Chapter 453
Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You can’t afford me now
Chapter 453:
Hadley tried to focus, to assess her bodyâs state. âI have no strength.â
Ericâs gaze narrowed. âThatâs all?â
Hadley blinked. âYes⦠I think?â
What? What else was she supposed to feel? âOh.â
Eric exhaled, his tension easing just slightly. So Wilma had only used something mildâenough to weaken Hadley, enough to leave her vulnerable, but not the kind of drug that sent people into oblivion.
Still.
If he hadnât turned back⦠Would Hadley have been able to fight that bastard?
Wilma. That woman was supposed to be refined and respectfulâyet she was willing to endanger someoneâs life just to clear the path for her son.
Disgust curled in Ericâs chest. His expression darkened, his eyes sharp with something lethal.
Hadley noticed and stiffened slightly, a sudden unease creeping over her.
Hadleyâs voice was soft, hesitant. âShouldnât you be leaving?â
Eric shot her a sharp glance, still visibly irritated. âAnd go where exactly? I donât even want to imagine what will happen to you in this state if I leave!â
If Wilma had been bold enough to try once, who was to say she wouldnât try again?
Hadley sighed inwardly. She was starting to get used to his unpredictable bursts of frustration. Fine. It was better to let him do as he pleased.
A heavy silence settled between them.
Find it at gâað ððνðð s.â§¼ð¼ððº
Eric exhaled slowly, realizing his tone had been harsher than intended. âAhem.â
Clearing his throat, he shifted slightly, his voice begrudgingly softer. âWell⦠you said youâre too weak to move, right? What if you need water? Orââ He paused, looking momentarily uncomfortable. âWhat if you need to use the bathroom?â
Before Hadley could react, he dragged a chair to the bedside and sat down, arms crossed. âIâll stay until youâre better. Then Iâll leave.â
Hadley blinked.
He could help with water, sure. But the bathroom?
She almost pointed it out, but the moment she opened her mouthâ
âShut up!â Eric didnât even look at her, waving off whatever she was about to say. âI donât need your thanks. Just sleep.â
He stretched out, propping his legs against the edge of the bed, and then leaned back in the chair, shutting his eyes as if he intended to rest right there.
Now that the room was quiet, Hadley finally had a chance to take a good look at him.
What had happened to him?
Where had he come from?
She had noticed it earlierâbeneath the dim lighting, a bandage wrapped around Ericâs head, barely concealed by his hair.
Was he injured?
Had he hit his head? Were there other wounds hidden beneath his clothes? And what was he doing in Blathe? How had he even gotten hurt? Had he been at the theater yesterday?
.
.
.