He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 55

She had fought desperately for a phone call to him, but he never answered a single one.

Heath sneered. "That's purely your speculation, not a fact. I was there. Ottilie was insanely jealous that Nyssa had more screen time than her. She screamed that Nyssa was stealing her leading role, and that's why she attacked her."

"I was never jealous of Ms. Tarrant, and I never insulted her," Ottilie finally spoke up, her voice steady. "You and Preston tied me up. You brought in a group of extras, planning to turn the scene into a reality. You ripped my clothes. You were going to assault me."

"You think you're some kind of goddess?" Heath spat. "You think we'd stoop that low? Stop spewing garbage! I wouldn't risk offending Yorath just for a few minutes of fun. I'm not psychotic!"

He turned his vile glare toward Yorath. "Yorath, has your brain rotted? Nyssa loves you. She sacrificed so much for you, and now that this crazy bitch is back, Nyssa is still trying to be graceful and help you clean up her mess. And you can't even see it! You're torturing Nyssa for the sake of this lunatic! How can you do that to her?"

Seeing the conversation derailing, Ottilie quickly pulled it back.

"We are here to discuss my return to the industry. Please stick to the relevant topic."

"Bring in the second witness," Yorath ordered.

Soren escorted a nervous middle-aged woman into the room. She stood awkwardly to the side, looking completely out of her depth.

"Mrs. Aston, please tell everyone what you know," Yorath said gently.

Mrs. Aston wrung her hands. "Three years ago, my son was a PA on the set of *Echoes of Antiquity*. Someone gave him twenty thousand in cash and told him to lock the doors and not open them for anyone. He... he ended up burning to death inside, too."

Yorath nodded. "We have recovered ten thousand in cash from that original payment and successfully extracted fingerprints from the bills. I am demanding that everyone present submit to a fingerprint comparison."

"Why the hell should we give you our fingerprints?" Heath exploded. "Just because this old hag says so? Does she have proof? Don't think for a second I'm scared of you just because you love throwing lawsuits around, Fordham! Push me too far, and we'll see who ends up in a body bag first!"

Yorath remained infuriatingly calm. "The testimonies prove that there was a mastermind behind the events of that day. This case is riddled with inconsistencies and involves everyone sitting at this table. I will continue investigating until I find the real culprit and clear everyone's names."

Warren Walden scoffed. "Are you implying, Mr. Fordham, that whoever opposes your investigation is the mastermind? That anyone against Ms. Sewell's return to the industry is the real killer?"

Heath went purple with rage, the veins in his neck bulging as he abandoned all pretense of class.

"Go fuck yourself! Fuck your entire family! You cheap bitch, come over here! I'll fuck you to death and show you exactly how tiny I am—"

Consumed by humiliated fury, Heath completely lost his mind, screaming profanities so vile the rest of the room grimaced.

He was so blinded by rage he didn't even notice Yorath calmly rise from his seat and walk over to him.

Yorath grabbed Heath by his collar, practically hoisting the man out of his wheelchair, choking off his tirade.

Yorath offered a chilling smile. "You can curse her family. But you cannot curse her."

With that, he drove his fist brutally into Heath's face.