Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You can’t afford me now

Chapter 767:

Westgate Avenue.

Elissa sat in quiet uncertainty, her unseeing eyes staring into the void. She had no idea where she was—or why she was here. The last thing she remembered was being in the hospital. But when she woke up, she inexplicably found herself in this unfamiliar place.

At first, panic had gripped her. Had she been kidnapped? Was this some kind of ransom plot? But nothing seemed to indicate that.

She wasn’t mistreated. On the contrary, she was well taken care of—too well. Servants attended to her every need, and a doctor came daily to check on her and change her bandages.

It was meticulous care… but it came at a cost. She was completely cut off from the outside world.

Beyond the household staff, a bodyguard was stationed nearby—not just for protection, but to keep an eye on her. The farthest she was allowed to go was the courtyard. Each time she so much as neared the gate, the bodyguard would step forward, his voice calm yet firm.

“Miss Holland, please head back.”

How could she not be afraid? She knew what this was. She wasn’t a guest. She was being watched. But who would do this to her? And more importantly, why?

Just then—Ding dong!

The doorbell rang. Someone had arrived.

The servant strode to the door and pulled it open.

“Doctor. Miss Holland is in the living room.”

gⱯlnσν𝓮𝓁s﹒𝓬𝗈𝗺, the heart of fictionnoveldrama

As expected, the doctor arrived at the same hour, like clockwork.

Though Elissa’s world had dimmed, her ears had become a stage for every subtle sound. She listened keenly—two sets of footsteps.

It was always the same when the doctor came. Yet, the other person never spoke a word.

Elissa assumed it was the doctor’s assistant or perhaps a nurse, someone content to remain a shadow in the room.

“Miss Holland, how are you feeling today?”

“Quite well.” Elissa straightened on the sofa, offering a faint smile. The bandages still cloaked her eyes, shielding them from sight and scrutiny alike.

“Today is the day we change your dressing,” the doctor announced.

“Alright. Thank you.”

The doctor unlatched the medical kit and began his work, peeling away the layers of gauze with steady hands.

Seated on a nearby sofa, Ernest watched in silence as each strip of bandage fell away, unveiling what lay beneath. His brow creased ever so slightly. The swelling had retreated, but the bruises remained—dark testaments to past suffering.

Just then, Quentin hurried in, leaning close and whispering in hushed urgency, “Mr. Flynn, your brother is outside the door!”

Ernest’s expression stilled, his grip on the cane tightening. Eric? What was he doing here?

Saying nothing, he merely nodded and then pushed himself up. With one last glance at Elissa, he turned and stepped out.

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