He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 48

The hospital room door had been left ajar, and Ottilie instantly felt the heavy, scrutinizing gazes from the hallway fixed upon her.

Sitting up against the pillows, she casually brought the fingers that had brushed Kendrick's sleeve up to her nose and sniffed.

"Is your agent wearing the cologne Passage d'Enfer? I swear I've smelled that scent somewhere before."

A flash of pure panic darted across Kendrick's eyes, but he quickly masked it with annoyance. "Half the men in the city wear that cologne. Stop being so paranoid, Ms. Sewell."

Nyssa smoothly interjected, "Do you really like Kendrick that much? Maybe we should just let him stay and assist Soren. After all, Soren has a legal background; he doesn't know the first thing about navigating the entertainment industry."

Before Ottilie could even open her mouth, Yorath shot down the idea. "Your team stays with you."

Nyssa nodded obediently, playing the perfect subordinate. "Of course. Whatever you decide."

She then turned back to the room, beaming. "Oh, by the way! My birthday is coming up in a few days. We're hosting a massive party on a yacht out in international waters. You should absolutely come! Don't even worry about bringing a gift. Just showing up would be the best present I could ask for."

She gave a cheerful little wave and strutted off down the hall, Kendrick trailing closely behind her.

The second they got into their chauffeured car, Kendrick's face contorted in anxiety.

"Did she figure it out? I was the one driving that night. I personally dropped her off at that abandoned warehouse."

Nyssa leaned luxuriously against the plush leather seats, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. "She has zero evidence. Even if she knows, what exactly is she going to do about it?"

"But Mr. Fordham's clearly favoring her right now," Kendrick argued nervously. "We need to prepare for the fallout."

"Who he favors doesn't mean a damn thing. When it comes to powerful men, you don't listen to what they say. You watch what they actually do."

Nyssa truly didn't view Ottilie as a threat anymore.

She had an entire army behind her: an elite agent, top-tier makeup artists, personal stylists, exclusive fashion designers, formidable family backing, unlimited resources, and undeniable A-list status.

As long as she didn't leave any concrete evidence behind, she was untouchable.

Why would Yorath ever sabotage a cash cow like her over a baseless accusation?

"You're brilliant, gorgeous, and perfect," Kendrick muttered, bewildered. "I just don't understand why Mr. Fordham won't..."

Nyssa knew exactly what he was implying.

Whenever Yorath looked at her, there was absolutely zero heat. No desire, no passion.

The moment she stepped through the grand double doors, she spotted a flamboyantly dressed young man standing nervously in the living room.

Even after three years, his aggressively trendy style made him instantly recognizable.

It was Henri, the exclusive fashion designer. No one even knew his real name.

Henri practically folded himself in half, bowing at a perfect ninety-degree angle. "Mr. Fordham! It's been far too long. Please forgive my unannounced intrusion."

Yorath gestured dismissively, guiding Ottilie to the plush sofa without offering the man a seat or even a glass of water.

"You have exactly one minute."

Henri plastered on an agonizingly apologetic smile. "Regarding the gown I sent Ms. Sewell the other day... it wasn't that I recorded her measurements incorrectly. It was a terrible mix-up. I accidentally swapped Ms. Tarrant's dress with Ms. Sewell's, which is why it didn't fit. I came here personally to beg for your forgiveness. Please, give me another chance. Don't sever the Fordham family's contract with my studio."

The Fordhams were a sprawling, infinitely wealthy dynasty. Lorenzo had numerous siblings, and the extended family represented an unfathomable consumer base.

For years, every piece of custom jewelry and high fashion they wore had been exclusively commissioned through Henri's studio.

Add in the fact that he was Nyssa's personal designer, and he had skyrocketed to the top of the fashion world, raking in obscene amounts of money.