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

Chapter 138 Two–timing

Flynn Mansion.

Linda’s growing unease over the past few days finally solidified into certainty.

Her fingers tightened around the two delicate tortoiseshell hairpins–something she had just discovered beneath Ernest’s pillow.

They weren’t hers.

Then whose were they?

First, there was a photo of another woman. Now, this.

“Ernest!”

Linda’s voice cracked as she held up the incriminating haripins, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“Whose are these?”

Ernest’s gaze flickered downward, averting her question.

Although he couldn’t form complete sentences, his silence spoke volumes-a refusal, a quiet defiance.

“Ha… haha.”

Linda let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound hollow in the stillness.

“Oh, right. I almost forgot–you still can’t talk, can you?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, her emotions teetering on the edge. “Fine. Let’s make this easy. Just nod or shake your head. Can you do that?”

She inhaled sharply, and then pressed on, her voice lower but no less cutting. “Tell me, Ernest… is there someone else? Huh? Is that what this is?”

Still, he said nothing. His head remained bowed, his gaze avoiding hers, his silence a shield he refused to lower. Rage flared in Linda’s chest, burning away the last remnants of her restraint.

She reached out abruptly, her fingers gripping his face, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“Look at me!” she demanded, her voice trembling with emotion. “Answer me, damn it! Nod or shake your head! Is it really that hard?”

Ernest’s thick brows knit together, his lips pressed into a firm line. His eyes held something–an emotion she couldn’t decipher, something locked away beneath layers of unreadable restraint.

And yet, in that unbearable silence, she knew. It was true.

But when? How?

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He had been in a coma for years–it couldn’t have been then. So… it had to be before he went into a coma?

The realization struck like a bolt of lightning. Linda froze, her entire body going rigid as a chilling thought crept into her mind.

“Ernest!” Linda’s voice trembled with fury, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.

“Is this what I deserve?” she choked out, her voice raw with emotion. “Did you ever even think about me when you were with her?”

Ernest sat motionless, his gaze locked on the floor, silent as ever, but his breathing faltered.

“Who is she? Who is she, Ernest?” Linda demanded, her voice rising like a whip crack.

Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about!” Her voice broke with desperation. “You

track her down, but you can’t even say her

in, eyes wide with alarm. She reached for Linda, prying her away from Ernest with firm but gentle

sobbed. “Doesn’t this matter to you? Don’t you want to ask him what

murmured. “I’ll ask

but the weight behind it remained. “Ernest, tell me this is all a misunderstanding. You can’t explain, so should we call Quentin? Maybe he can clear this up?”

time, Ernest stirred.

wheelchair, he slowly lifted his head, his expression unreadable. A long silence stretched between them before he finally moved. A slow, deliberate shake of his head. Then, in a hoarse whisper, barely a breath of

last of Linda’s strength crumbled.

toward the window, her fingers clenched around the delicate hairpins. “You won’t say a damn thing, huh? You keep these–treasuring them, touching them, holding onto them like some sacred token. Like they actually means something to you.” Her lips curling into a bitter sneer.

she flung the hairpins

“No!”

ripped through the air like

the

shaking violently beneath him,

too unstable. His body crashed to the floor

“Ernest!”

space as she darted toward him, her face pale with horror.

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to help him up.

Linda, her expression

snapped, her breath shaky. “Was this really necessary?

he’s still weak!”

voice wavered, barely a

The exhaustion in her voice was unmistakable.

know you’re hurting,” she murmured, her voice softer now. “But… isn’t everything still uncertain?”

Uncertain?

bitter laugh slipped past Linda’s

see it? The way Ernest had reacted–the sheer panic in his voice, the way he had

anyone still believe he had nothing

broke the tension. “Come in here! Mr. Flynn

in came

“What happened?”

the sight of his brother sprawled on the floor. In an instant, he strode forward, slipping

grip steady as he helped Ernest back into his

didn’t spare anyone a glance. His fingers pressed the wheelchair’s control,

started rolling toward the

to Linda,

hell

“Oh no…”

wasting a second, she hurried after him. “Come on! Let’s follow

him!”

he made his way downstairs, heading straight

Turning swiftly, she called out,

joined the effort. Everyone was

exactly are we looking for?” one of the servants asked. “Two hairpins,” Nyla responded quickly. “Tortoiseshell. Small. Check

was evident. “Grandma, are you

the weight of the situation pressing heavily on

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