Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me by Thedora Birnir

Chapter 127 He’s Not The

Only One Who’s Worried…

Linda didn’t react, keeping her expression composed, as if she had seen nothing unusual.

“I managed to get back earlier today,” she said smoothly. “How about a walk in the garden?”

Ernest met her gaze and gave a small nod.

Though he still relied on a wheelchair, his condition had improved enough that he could stand with assistance.

Taking a few steps was no longer an impossible task–and he welcomed the challenge.

“Let’s go.”

Without hesitation, Linda stepped behind him, pushing the wheelchair toward the garden.

Later, under the glow of the evening lights, Ernest practiced standing with his walker, his movements steady

but cautious.

Nearby, a servant approached Linda, keeping their voice low. “Miss Harris, the trash has been cleared.”

Linda barely shifted, her gaze still on Ernest as she responded, “Anything unusual?”

The servant hesitated for a fraction of a second before extending something toward her. “Please have a look at

this.”

Turning slightly, Linda reached out and accepted the object. A small, charred fragment–roughly the size of two

knuckles.

She studied it, her fingers brushing over the burned edges. Her brows furrowed.

The fragment in Linda’s hand was small, but telling. A charred corner of a photograph. Though most of it had been lost to the flames, a faint outline remained–what seemed to be a head. The hairstyle suggested it belonged to a girl.

So this was what Ernest was so desperate to destroy….

But why? And who was she?

She masked her thoughts with a calm nod. “That’s all for now. You may leave.”

“Yes, Miss Harris,” the servant responded before quietly stepping away.

Once alone, Linda carefully tucked the fragment away, her expression unreadable.

The date was set.

13:43

Chapter 127 He’s Not The Only One Who’s Worried About Her

This Friday. Eight o’clock.

A prime–time slot–proof of how much Blanche valued this performance. It wasn’t just another show; it was a

statement.

Hadley felt a rush of emotions–excitement, nerves, and the weight of expectation pressing down on her.

This was her first real stage performance. A defining moment. Failure wasn’t an option.

With tickets going on sale that night, Hadley forced herself to sleep early.

Blanche had already reassured her beforehand.

“Don’t stress over ticket sales,” she had said firmly. “Lightning Studio performances always sell out fast. Just focus on your dancing. If the premiere flops–that’s when we’ll have a problem.”

sure enough, the next morning, when she checked the ticketing website, the numbers spoke for

“Wow!”

it. This is the big stage,” she thought. If she couldn’t make a name

chimed, snapping her out of her thoughts.

from

out!” A

So

“Thank you.”

to be incredible.

the other end, Denver set his phone down, a thoughtful look

chat. His fingers hovered for a moment–then he started

Studio’s performance. VIP

message, hit send, and leaned

course, he had already secured his own ticket.

Hadley’s first performance? Not

buying up any unsold

the money, and he was

had underestimated just how high the

night, he had stayed up, watching the ticketing site like a hawk. The moment the

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Not The Only

of speed. In the end, he had barely managed to snag a few VIP box seats. If he had hesitated even a second longer, he might not have gotten any at all.

phone buzzed, pulling him from

first to respond.

“Yeah.

“I’m in, too.”

“Thanks, Marshall.”

what about Eric?

at his desk, coffee in hand, his phone screen glowing.

typed out a reply to Barrie’s question. “Alright. Nothing better

Appreciate

casually set his phone down, his expression as composed as ever- impossible

Flynn… most of the employees I reached out to weren’t able to secure tickets.

the only one worried

Flynn Group employees to purchase tickets- his way of ensuring the

weren’t exactly seasoned ticket buyers. By the time they figured out the process, the seats had already been snatched up.

bit disappointed. If anything, there was

eyes.

appreciate

small nod. “Understood, Mr. Flynn.”

turned to leave, a thought lingered

or was he just playing a different game

Friday.

alive

the refined crowd with his usual composed demeanor. Howeve efore heading to his seat, he made a quick detour to the

back, he stopped short. Ahead, standing in the corridor leading from backstage to the main hall, was Denver–holding a large

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<

then back to Denver. It wasn’t

“Denver!”

light yet tinged with nervous energy. She stepped into view, dressed in her performance attire, the soft

“Hey, Hadley!”

smile tugged at Denver’s lips as he lifted the bouquet

a small laugh,

Actually… I’m a little nervous right now. You’re just in time to help distract me.

straightened, concern flickering in his eyes.

this. You’re