He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 258

Before they could even exchange a few more words, a loud knock echoed through the apartment.

Ottilie glanced at the door. "Just ignore him. Let's keep talking."

Yves opened his mouth to reply, but the knocking continued incessantly.

The rhythm was chaotic, grating on the nerves, feeling more like a frantic death knell than a polite summons.

There was no way they could maintain a conversation through the racket.

"I am so sorry about this," Ottilie said, looking deeply embarrassed.

"It's alright. Let me walk you out."

She yanked the door open. "What's the rush?"

Jevon lowered his hand, flashing an easy smile. "I got hungry. Figured I'd knock and see if you two wanted to grab food together."

Ignoring him, Ottilie turned back to Yves. "You don't need to walk me down. Goodbye."

She stepped into the hall and shot Jevon a cold look. "Let's go."

Standing in the doorway, Yves watched her retreating figure with profound melancholy, mentally comparing her tragic fate to a beautiful songbird locked in a ruthless tyrant's gilded cage.

Her life was so endlessly tragic.

And Yorath Fordham was nothing but a modern-day dictator holding her captive.

Jevon drove Ottilie back to the Meridian Villa. "Yorath said you two are getting your marriage license tomorrow, so you need to get some good rest today."

She gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. As she stepped out of the car, Jevon added, "Don't go running around. Stay put in the house. Your show is airing soon; don't stir up any trouble."

Ottilie walked straight through the front gates without a word.

Jevon waited until Yvonne Quinn escorted her safely inside before putting the car in drive and heading to the hospital.

On the way, he picked up some premium porridge and a few light, oil-free side dishes from a high-end restaurant.

Back in the ward, he ate with Yorath.

"Yorath, the Sewell parents aren't exactly easy to handle. Last time, we practically forced them to sign the contract severing their ties with her. Now you're inviting them to the wedding? They're going to bleed you dry."

"They'll come," Yorath said, completely unfazed.

That afternoon, once the intense heat broke, Yorath left the hospital.

Having just gotten off the operating table, he couldn't walk, so he was wheeled out in a wheelchair.

The women instantly erupted into delighted cheers.

"I thank you on behalf of the girls, Mr. Fordham," the owner said obsequiously. "Please, take a look. If anyone catches your eye, we'll have her attend to you immediately."

Yorath smiled faintly. "I'm married, and my wife runs a tight ship. I don't indulge in these things."

"Congratulations, Mr. Fordham! What wonderful news..."

Having just received massive tips, the girls eagerly clapped and cheered, "Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. Fordham! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness!"

The owner leaned down and whispered into Yorath's ear, "He's upstairs, locked in. He threw a fit for an entire day and night, but he finally ran out of energy and fell asleep."

Yorath nodded.

"Lead the way."

The owner guided them upstairs.

He pushed open the door to a private suite, revealing a man sprawled across the velvet sofa.

The heavy door made a loud noise, jolting the man awake. Seeing the group at the entrance, he shot up off the couch like a cannonball.

"Damn it, you finally showed up! Locking me in here for this long—I'm calling the cops!"