He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 189

The craftsmanship was utterly magnificent, the facets throwing off a blinding, kaleidoscopic fire that screamed astronomical wealth.

Ottilie remained rooted to the spot, staring at him with a face completely devoid of emotion.

"Yorath, I'm very sorry, but I do not want to marry you."

A collective, horrifying gasp ripped through the drawing room.

The scandal of him abandoning his empire for love paled in comparison to the sheer, reality-shattering shock of him being rejected.

In a setting like this, a joke of this magnitude was practically a death wish.

Buckling slightly beneath the crushing weight of his murderous glare, she suddenly let out a bizarre, unsettling laugh.

Her mind felt entirely untethered, the words pouring out before she could even process them.

"I've told you repeatedly that I don't love you. I don't even like you. But you refused to listen to a single word. You convinced yourself, in your own delusional arrogance, that I was desperately obsessed with you—that I was just clinging to you to drain you for all you're worth. I'll admit, Mr. Fordham, you certainly have the assets to justify that kind of ego. But surely I am allowed to say no, aren't I?"

His expression didn't change a fraction. Behind those gold-rimmed glasses, he remained the picture of aristocratic poise.

But Ottilie could clearly see the violent, freezing storm raging within his eyes.

She then turned to address the horrified parents. "I am already seeing someone. He's a teacher—an educated, civilized man with a perfectly clean background. I would strongly advise you to put your son on a leash and keep him from harassing me..."

The varying shades of purple and red rapidly overtaking the family's faces were a magnificent sight to behold.

Taking it all in, she regarded these so-called elites with nothing but pure contempt.

"Back when I loved your son, he was my entire world, and you were all untouchable gods. But now that I don't love him, now that I simply refuse to do this anymore—your power and prestige mean absolutely nothing to me."

Finishing her piece, she offered a razor-sharp smile to his mother.

"Mrs. Fordham, if you want me to dance for you, I can certainly do that—provided the price is right. After all, you pride yourselves on being a wealthy, prestigious family. Surely you wouldn't expect a free show from a working girl in the entertainment industry?"

Marcella had never in her entire life expected to be accused of 'freeloading' in front of high society.

Nor had she ever anticipated that this actress would violently turn on them, publicly dragging the family's name through the mud with absolutely zero regard for the consequences.

She stood completely frozen, incapable of formulating a single syllable.

Gasping heavily for air, she merely stared daggers of pure hatred at the girl.

Ottilie gave a polite nod to the stunned crowd of heiresses and wives. "Apologies for the spectacle. I won't hold up your lovely gathering any longer. Goodbye."

Forget marriage—even crawling back as his mistress was impossible now.

Before the girl even managed to make a comeback, the family's wrath would blacklist her from the industry entirely.

Nyssa covertly glanced over at the man of the hour.

Yorath still wore that impenetrable aura of aristocratic grace, and—incredibly—he actually seemed to chuckle.

"Well, you all saw it for yourselves," he announced loudly to the silent room. "My wife has a terrible temper and keeps me on a very tight leash. If anyone here tries to force some random woman on me, she gets so furiously jealous that not even God himself could stop her."

With that, he looked back at his mother. "Take care of yourself."

Marcella leaped to her feet, absolute panic seizing her features. "You are truly going to abandon the family that carried you for ten months and bled to raise you for two decades—all over a woman?"

He hadn't set foot in this house for three long years. Tonight was supposed to be his grand return, and yet he was immediately severing ties all over again.

And for a common actress, no less!

Ignoring her entirely, Yorath turned on his heel and strode purposefully toward the exit.

Pushing past the breaking point, Lorenzo aimed a trembling, wrathful finger at his son's retreating back. "Fine! You want out of this family so badly? You're no longer my son! But if you want to leave, you will submit to the Fordham Rite in the ancestral hall. If you survive, you're free to go. But if you fail—if your body breaks before the end—then you will die on those floors, and your worthless life will finally be repaid to the parents who gave it to you!"