He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 192

Yorath slowly shifted his gaze toward Ottilie.

His eyes were incredibly calm, devoid of any expectation, as if he had anticipated her exact reaction all along.

Ottilie didn't look away.

They locked eyes for a mere two seconds, yet it felt as though centuries had passed across a thousand mountains.

Finally, she offered a small smile.

A completely heartless, indifferent smile.

Yorath withdrew his gaze and gently pushed his mother away.

"Mom, step aside."

Marcella clung to him fiercely, shielding his battered body, and snapped at the enforcers, "If you want to hit my son, you'll have to kill me first."

Who in the Fordham family dared to strike Marcella?

Her background was far too intimidating.

Back when she got married, Magnus Harrington had made his terms crystal clear.

*This is my only daughter. If she loses so much as a single hair after marrying into the Fordhams, there will be hell to pay.*

Marcella had practically married beneath her station; her pedigree was flawless.

Magnus only had this one precious daughter. Terrified that the merchant-class Fordhams wouldn't know how to treat her properly, he had done the most.

He had assigned her an entire staff of private aides and security, outfitting her like royalty.

Tanya was one of the loyal staff members Marcella had brought with her.

The enforcers didn't dare lower the cane. They all looked to Lorenzo.

Lorenzo remained standing in his position of absolute authority, as cold and ruthless as a machine.

"Marcella, don't make this difficult for me," he said.

"How can you be so heartless, Lorenzo?" she spat. "What good does it do you to beat your own son to death? Are you hiding some illegitimate brat out there? Are you trying to kill my boy so your bastard can take over? Let me tell you right now—if my son dies, I will take you and the entire Fordham empire down with me!"

No one should ever underestimate a mother's fierce determination to protect her child.

But Lorenzo remained entirely unyielding. "The Fordham empire doesn't belong to any single person. Calm down. Letting a scandalous little actress join this family would make us the laughingstock of the city."

With that, he shot a look at the bodyguards.

Two men stepped forward immediately, though they didn't dare manhandle her.

They simply said respectfully, "Ma'am, please don't make this hard for us."

Every syllable dripped with a bone-chilling hatred.

She continued, "If you ever had a son and he met a piece of trash like you, you'd be infinitely crueler than I am. What right do you have to resent my boy?"

Ottilie felt absolutely nothing hearing those words.

She simply replied with an eerie calmness.

"There's no need to rush into hating me, Mrs. Fordham. Why don't you figure out who your son is actually in love with first? It helps to aim your anger at the right target."

Marcella's chest heaved with violent fury. "Do you even have a heart, Ottilie?"

"No." Ottilie felt a hint of moisture at the corner of her eye. She touched it; her fingertip was wet.

This entire scene really should be recorded and sent to Nyssa Tarrant.

Such profound devotion was enough to move the heavens.

Outside the Ancestral Hall.

Jevon Crawford and Elian Zouch were still stuck in the living room of Creekwood Manor.

He had already downed a cup of coffee, two cups of black tea, and eaten two Artisanal Pistachio Financiers.

He kept checking his watch, then his phone, fidgeting like a cat on a hot tin roof.