I Fell for the Man Who Ruined Me, Then He Forgot He Ever Loved Me Back novel Chapter 170

The photo was uploaded immediately.

From the moment it was snapped to the time it was posted, it took less than three minutes. It was a completely casual shot, with zero thought put into the angle or the lighting.

Jorrod was half-propped up against the hospital pillows, holding a phone, clearly in the middle of handling business.

That effortless, unbothered image instantly shattered the "coma" and "critical condition" narratives.

The internet's fury rapidly pivoted toward the tabloids, slamming them for exploiting someone's health for clicks.

As the doctor predicted, Jorrod recovered his strength quickly. Once he was up and moving, he felt completely fine.

Staying in the hospital was a hassle, so a swift discharge was the best course of action.

Theodore wanted his grandson to return to the family estate. Since it was his birthday, a family dinner would put the patriarch's mind at ease.

Jorrod rejected the idea with a flat "No."

Silas, of course, understood exactly why.

It would be terrible form for a couple in the honeymoon phase not to spend his birthday together.

Seeing Theodore gearing up for an argument, Silas quickly smoothed things over. "Mr. Vaughn, don't worry. I'll keep an eye on him. His place is close to mine anyway."

Theodore shot him a lethal glare. "You being there is exactly why I'm worried!"

Silas: "..." Fair enough.

His credibility with the patriarch was completely shot.

Jorrod had finished the discharge paperwork. He got out of bed, stretched his stiff muscles, and began changing out of his hospital gown.

"By the way, Jorrod," Theodore suddenly remembered. "Nate put an immense amount of time and effort into handling the fallout from your accident."

Jorrod's hands paused on his shirt. He froze, his newly restored brain rapidly searching for anyone with the name "Nate."

He frowned slightly, glancing over his shoulder. "Nathaniel Yale?"

"Yes, exactly!"

"I see." Jorrod smoothly grabbed his jacket from the hanger and slipped it on with practiced elegance.

He looked down, his long fingers swiftly fastening his cuffs, adjusting the expensive fabric with methodical precision.

Only when he was perfectly put together did he look up, his gaze dead and emotionless. He finally spoke. "Then I'll arrange a private dinner with him tomorrow to properly thank him."

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