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.”

the next morning, when she checked the ticketing website, the numbers spoke for themselves. Sold out. Every single

“Wow!”

stage,” she thought. If she couldn’t make a name for herself here… then she

chimed, snapping her

from Denver.

performance tickets are sold out!” A blushed, smiling emoji followed.

softly, warmth blooming in her chest. So he was keeping track

“Thank you.”

be incredible. Break a leg, Hadley!”

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

chat. His fingers hovered for a moment–then

VIP

typed out the message, hit send, and leaned back, waiting for replies.

had already secured his

Hadley’s first performance? Not

had been prepared for anything–even buying up any unsold tickets himself if demand had

money, and he was more than

how high the

he had stayed up, watching the ticketing site like a hawk. The moment the clock struck midnight, he clicked the link. But so had

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13:43

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The Only

a few VIP box

him from his thoughts.

the first to respond. “Hadley’s

quickly replied, “Yeah. Come

“I’m in, too.”

“Thanks, Marshall.”

But what about Eric? Why so

sat at his desk, coffee in hand, his phone screen glowing. His lips curied into a smirk.

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

then! Appreciate

Eric casually set his phone

hesitated for a beat before speaking. “Mr. Flynn… most of the employees I reached

the only one worried

possibility and had quietly arranged for Flynn Group employees to purchase tickets- his way of ensuring the numbers stayed

exactly seasoned ticket buyers. By the time they figured out

enough, Eric didn’t seem the least bit disappointed. If anything, there was a

eyes.

knowing glance before speaking. “No problem. Tell them I appreciate the effort. Anyone who pitched in–count it as overtime. Make sure they’re paid

a small nod. “Understood, Mr. Flynn.”

leave, a thought lingered in his mind-

want those tickets… or was he just playing a different game

Friday.

was alive with

demeanor. Howeve efore heading to his seat, he made a quick detour to

his way back, he stopped short. Ahead, standing in the corridor leading from backstage to the

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<

back to Denver. It wasn’t hard to guess who they were for.

“Denver!”

dressed in

“Hey, Hadley!”

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

let out a small laugh, shaking her head.

a little nervous right now. You’re just

nervous, Denver straightened, concern

You’ve got this. You’re going