He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 195

She walked over and picked up the ring. The blood on it was still fresh, staining her fingertips.

"You should get out of here. The fire is spreading fast."

She glanced back to see Lyle standing next to her, calmly holding up an umbrella to shield them from the flaming embers raining down from the ceiling.

"Yeah," she murmured, turning toward the exit.

At the entrance, the family elders had dropped to their knees in a weeping, chaotic mess.

They beat the floorboards, howling apologies to their ruined ancestors.

Walking beside her, Lyle casually remarked, "Yorath was willing to throw his life away for you. A love like that is truly enviable."

She slipped the ring into her pocket, dusting off her clothes.

Without missing a beat, she replied smoothly, "What exactly do you mean by that? Wasn't today just a highly coordinated show? You brothers practically conspired to burn this hall to the ground to overthrow the patriarchy, seize power, and end the old regime. Don't pin this on 'love.' I refuse to be labeled the sacrificial pawn who brought down the empire."

Lyle stared at her in silence.

She gave him a polite nod. "Goodbye."

"His Cullinan is parked outside," Lyle finally said. "Get in. Someone will take you home."

She walked down the sweeping steps, hyper-aware that every single eye was fixed on her.

Envy. Hatred. Pure contempt.

She didn't care. She glided past them with perfect, effortless poise.

Once outside, she spotted his massive luxury SUV parked dead center in the driveway.

The engine hummed to life. The rear door popped open, and Jevon waved frantically from inside.

"Hurry up, get in!"

She climbed into the plush leather seat and pulled the door shut.

Jevon boasted, grinning, "I just started a massive fire behind the hall. I saved his life and basically cemented your epic romance. How are you gonna thank me?"

Ottilie rarely ever had anything to say to him. She leaned her head against the window and stayed completely silent.

"Though I have no idea how the water buckets magically turned into gasoline later on," Jevon mused aloud.

She knew exactly how. The Fordham brothers had been wanting to burn that archaic shrine down for years.

"If he actually kicks the bucket, you need to leave the country immediately. I've got a private estate overseas. You can hide out there and never come back for the rest of your life."

If Yorath died, there was no way she would survive the fallout.

Forget the rest of the family—Marcella alone would tear her apart.

"People don't die that easily," she replied flatly.

With Elian and Quentin at the hospital, they could bring him back even if he only had one breath left in his lungs.

"He went through all that for you. You must be dying of gratitude right now, huh?"

"He didn't do it for me. I'm not that important to him."

Jevon scowled. "If it wasn't for you, who the hell was it for?"

"Nyssa Tarrant."

With the old Fordham rules obliterated, Yorath was now free to marry whomever he pleased. Who could possibly stop him now?

Jevon opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't find a single word of rebuttal.