He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 190

No matter how ruthless the family was, Marcella still deeply loved her child.

When her eldest had nearly been beaten to death years ago, her heart had been ripped to shreds.

Watching history aggressively repeat itself, how could she just stand by and watch her flesh and blood be subjected to that kind of torture again?

Desperate, she violently tugged at her husband's sleeve. "You cannot do this! This is a modern, civilized society governed by laws!"

Lorenzo had always treated his wife with profound respect; in all their years of marriage, he had rarely even raised his voice at her.

But tonight, the patriarch's fury was absolute. Gritting his teeth, he snarled, "The nation has its laws, and this family has its own. I am punishing my own flesh and blood beneath my own roof. I'd like to see what judge dares to tell me otherwise."

He immediately pivoted to address the stunned audience. "A minor domestic matter has unfortunately derailed the evening. I deeply apologize for being a poor host. I will personally invite each of you back when circumstances are more favorable."

Taking his cue, Tobin swiftly and gracefully began herding the guests out the doors.

When had this untouchable empire ever suffered such a humiliating public scandal?

And it was entirely the fault of that arrogant actress.

The sheer embarrassment was staggering.

Seizing the chaos, Marcella shot Tanya a desperate look, silently ordering her to figure out a way to call for reinforcements.

But before the woman could even pivot, Lorenzo's voice boomed like thunder. "We are on total lockdown! No one steps a single foot outside these gates tonight. Anyone caught trying to leak this to the outside world will be permanently exiled."

In a heartbeat, the remaining staff froze completely solid.

Ottilie had just reached the main gates of the sprawling estate when Tobin abruptly blocked her path.

"Ms. Sewell, Mrs. Fordham has made it explicitly clear. Anyone is free to leave tonight—except you."

Standing at the base of the grand stone steps, she gazed up at the oppressive, fortified walls of the towering manor.

The head butler stood before her in his immaculate tuxedo, bowing deeply.

The ancient pine trees flanking the massive iron gates seemed to radiate nothing but cold, suffocating authority.

Back when she had been madly in love with the heir, she had never been allowed to set foot on these grounds.

If she had experienced this terrifying isolation even once, she would have sprinted in the opposite direction immediately.

And none of this blood-soaked tragedy would have ever happened.

"Is there an option to decline?"

"I'm afraid not," the butler replied, his posture remaining perfectly subservient.

He certainly hadn't been this overly polite the last time he ambushed her at the Meridian Villa.

Remembering how Yorath had violently kicked the man back then, the corners of her mouth twitched up. "You're holding me here against my will. I'm well within my rights to call the authorities."

"That is entirely your right. You may call whoever you wish."

Ottilie was forcefully dragged to stand right beside a trembling Marcella.

The matriarch didn't even acknowledge her presence, her knuckles turning white as she squeezed a silk handkerchief, her eyes rimmed with raw terror.

Lorenzo commanded the elevated platform, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Stance wide and gaze murderous, he radiated absolute power.

Every single breath he took suffocated the room with his unyielding, god-like authority.

Within half an hour, every single uncle and elder in the sprawling dynasty had arrived.

Dozens of cousins and younger heirs poured into the hall, flooding the cavernous space with a sea of dark suits.

They immediately split down the middle, forming two perfectly disciplined rows.

In the entirety of this monstrously powerful family, Marcella was the only woman permitted to bear witness.

The terrifying, ancient weight of true aristocratic power was finally fully unmasked before Ottilie's eyes.

And standing all alone in the center of that brutal gauntlet, Yorath looked as though he were preparing to go to war against the entire world!

Lorenzo's voice echoed off the high ceiling. "Everyone is here, and you all know why. The Fordham family rules are absolute: marriages are made for the sake of the family. If you want an exception, you must earn the approval of our ancestors. There are twenty-seven ancestral pillars. You will kneel and take a brutal strike at every single one of them. If you can still walk out of here alive, you are the head of the Fordham family, and I will step down for you."

His vicious gaze locked directly onto the heir. Father and son stared each other down in a silent, bloodthirsty clash of wills, neither one willing to retreat an inch.

The dynasty operated on one terrifying rule: the throne didn't automatically go to the patriarch's children. Any cousin with enough power and ruthlessness could easily rip the crown away for themselves.