He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 243

As she spoke, Yvonne booted up her laptop and began running diagnostics on the apartment's security systems.

It looked incredibly high-tech, like a military-grade bunker. It had everything.

Ottilie sat down next to her. "Did Yorath set this up?"

"Yes." Yvonne only looked up after she finished her immediate tasks. "If you want to rest, Ms. Sewell, take your pick of the bedrooms."

With that, she picked up her laptop, walked into one of the rooms, shut the door, and didn't come back out.

Ottilie sat on the sofa for a while, staring blankly into space until a heavy wave of exhaustion hit her.

She picked a room at random and passed out the second her head hit the pillow.

When she woke up, the rich aroma of food filled the air.

Her head throbbed, her body felt incredibly weak, and her stomach gnawed with hunger.

The events of the past twenty-four hours flashed through her mind scene by scene.

Yorath had given her truth serum. If it hadn't been for that syringe...

She wouldn't have lost control. She wouldn't have escalated things to the point of no return.

But there was a silver lining.

She didn't lose her memory this time.

Did that mean her amnesia was finally cured for good?

Ottilie washed up and walked out to find a tray of baked fish waiting on the dining table.

The table had a built-in induction cooker, keeping the pan of fish piping hot and fragrant.

Yvonne walked out of the kitchen. "We can't leave the apartment right now, and ingredients are limited. Please make do for now, Ms. Sewell. It'll get better once we're out of the country."

Ottilie sat down, picked up her silverware, and took a bite.

"You can't blame them," the butler reasoned. "Anyone would be terrified if they heard you were personally sending men to apprehend them."

"You sure know how to kiss up," Magnus grumbled. "Fine. The girls handled themselves well. Call off the search. If they want to run, let them run."

"Of course, sir. Someone of your stature shouldn't be lowering yourself to bicker with two little girls anyway. Besides, that Ms. Sewell has nerves of steel. She'll do whatever she sets her mind to. With a temper like Mr. Yorath's, only a woman like her could keep him in line."

Magnus shot him a piercing look. "How much is he paying you to sing his praises?"

"You wound me, sir!" the butler protested. "He's still unconscious in the hospital. I wouldn't dare take a dime from him. And even if I did, I've lived off your generosity for years. My loyalty is to you, unconditionally."

Magnus waved him off. "Enough kissing up. Go to the hospital. Check on him. Tell him that if he survives this, he can do whatever the hell he wants. This old man is officially washing his hands of it."

"Yes, sir. I'll head over immediately." The butler bowed and backed out of the study.

He couldn't help but sigh. Ah, the passion of youth.

Once you reached a certain age, all this dramatic talk of love and hate just seemed so trivial.