He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 188

Every pair of eyes in the room instantly locked onto her.

They were highly educated elites; they wouldn't stoop to outright jeering.

But the mocking amusement in their stares was undeniable.

Right now, she felt like a cheap court jester dragged before the aristocracy for their personal entertainment.

No wonder he had used her as a human shield on the front lines.

If he had actually brought his precious Nyssa into this den of vipers, there was no way she could have stomached this kind of humiliation.

Maintaining absolute poise, Ottilie smiled smoothly. "I didn't study dance, I studied martial arts. I'm actually quite good at punishing evil and upholding justice. If you'd like to see that, Mrs. Fordham, I'd be more than happy to give a demonstration."

The benevolent smile nearly slid right off the matriarch's face.

Sensing the danger, she wisely backed down.

They were high society. If this actress truly threw away all decorum and publicly humiliated her in her own home, the fallout would be disastrous.

Yorath merely cast his mother a flat look, remaining entirely silent.

"What kind of dance do you prefer, Mrs. Fordham?" Jevon interjected smoothly. "I happen to be quite the expert. Allow me to perform for you instead."

Instantly mollified, Marcella happily pivoted the conversation.

"Where is Nyssa? Dinner is about to be served."

Just then, Nyssa was ushered through the grand doors by Yvonne.

Yvonne stepped forward, bowing respectfully to the matriarch. "Ma'am."

Having delivered her charge, she melted quietly into the background.

Nyssa approached with a charming smile, presenting an elegantly wrapped gift box.

"Mrs. Fordham, I picked out this silk scarf for you. I truly hope you like it."

Marcella inspected the fabric, beaming with approval. "You always know exactly what I like, my dear. Please, come visit us more often."

"I'd love that," she replied, carefully suppressing her giddy triumph so as not to appear overly desperate.

Marcella then signaled the head butler, Tobin. "Everyone is here. Summon the men for dinner."

The patriarchs and businessmen descended from their private meetings upstairs, immediately swarming the guest of honor with warm congratulations on her recovery.

Riding high on the festive mood, Marcella gently pulled a striking young woman to her side.

She gestured eagerly toward her son. "Yorath, come here for a moment."

He obliged, stepping forward. "Mother, you just recovered. Try not to overexert yourself tonight."

Descending the grand staircase, Lyle froze halfway down as the declaration rang out.

It took several heavy seconds before his suspended foot finally touched the next step. He simply stood there, staring at his younger brother.

The emotions swirling in his eyes were incredibly complex, masking whatever dark thoughts were racing through his mind.

Before Marcella could even formulate a screech of protest, Lorenzo Fordham let out a furious, booming sneer.

"Utter nonsense! Do you really think just any trash off the street can enter this family?"

"I don't need to enter this family," Yorath countered icily. "But I am going to marry her."

Blinded by rage, the patriarch snatched a steaming teacup off the table and hurled it directly at his son's head.

Jevon and Elian moved with lightning speed, blocking the strike.

"Please calm down, Mr. Fordham! If you severely injure him, you'll be the one regretting it!"

Lorenzo shoved them violently aside, his wrath entirely locked onto his heir. "You think you're fully grown now? You think I can't control you? If you insist on marrying this woman, then get the hell out of my sight! From this day forward, you are no longer a Fordham!"

Not a single person in the massive room dared to breathe.

Yorath gave a stiff, definitive nod. "Fine. As of today, I sever all ties with this family."

Without another word to his father, he turned to Ottilie, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. He snapped it open, revealing a breathtaking, flawless pink diamond ring.