He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 193

Unable to endure it a second longer, Jevon shot up from his seat, only to receive a sharp glare from Tobin.

"Man, I've been sitting too long, my back is killing me," Jevon complained. "Just getting up to stretch. The old man never said I couldn't walk around the house."

"For your own safety, Mr. Crawford, I strongly suggest you refrain from wandering," Tobin replied smoothly.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm just not allowed to contact the outside world, right? Fine, I won't."

He tossed his phone to the butler, then unclasped his expensive watch and stripped off every piece of metal jewelry he was wearing.

"Look, empty hands. Forget tipping someone off—if I need you, I'll just yell from the courtyard. Now, can I please go stretch my legs in the garden?"

"Oh, actually, you can assign two of your lovely female guards to escort me. They can keep me company."

Without waiting for an answer, he pointed at the stoic line of professional security.

"You, and you. Come with me."

He had specifically picked out the only two female bodyguards in the room.

"You're not going to stop me from taking a walk, are you, Tobin?"

"I wouldn't dare. Please suit yourself, Mr. Crawford," the butler replied.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jevon arrogantly strolled outside with the two stunning guards trailing him.

He even started belting out an overly dramatic breakup anthem just to fit the mood.

"I'd do anything for love, but I won't do that... my heart beats on till the end of time!"

He practically screamed the lyrics, venting all the stifling frustration building up in his chest.

To the outside world, men like them born into billionaire dynasties looked flawless and invincible.

But heavy is the head that wears the crown.

When it came to the family's expansion, choosing a wife was never up to them.

In his entire life, Jevon had never respected anyone the way he respected Yorath.

Not just anyone earned the right to be called his brother.

He wandered into the back garden, slumping onto a swinging bench beneath a massive oak tree. He waved the two guards over.

"Hey, gorgeous, how about a leg massage? All this walking is making me sore."

The stunning guards remained strictly professional, completely ignoring him.

"I'll pay. A hundred-dollar tip each."

One of the guards finally spoke, her tone deadpan. "Those tricks won't work on us, Mr. Crawford. We are elite security professionals. We cannot be bought."

Back in the Ancestral Hall.

Yorath's clothes were ripped to shreds. He lay face-down on the wooden floorboards, his shallow breathing the only indication that he was still alive.

As long as he wasn't dead, and as long as he refused to yield, the enforcer would not stop.

Marcella stood tall and imperious. She had married into the Fordhams, birthed three sons, and groomed every single one of them into powerhouses.

They had crushed the heirs of the rival branches beneath their heels, leaving no room for anyone else to rise.

Years ago, they hadn't managed to beat Lyle to death. He had entered the corporate empire immediately after graduation and was now the undisputed second-in-command.

As for the other cousins, only a select few were allowed into the minor subsidiary branches. They had zero speaking power; some didn't even get invitations to the main estate for the holidays.

Given Lyle's precedent, everyone knew that if these three brothers survived a catastrophe, they would return with a vengeance.

But Yorath was very different from Lyle.

Lyle was the eldest. From birth, he was groomed to carry the family's burdens, to honor tradition, and to be merciful to his subordinates.

Yorath, however, was ruthlessly vindictive. Whoever laid a hand on him today would be thrown into a federal prison the second he caught his breath.

Everyone in that room knew the truth: Yorath had to die today.