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

Chapter 239

Chapter 239 You Will Regret This

“Did you find him?”

Ernest’s gaze hardened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

His eyes flickered toward Linda, hesitation gripping him like a vice. He parted his lips slightly, as if on the verge of speaking, but in the end, he turned away in silence.

Linda’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded in disbelief. “Ernest! Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

At the sharpness of her tone, Ernest faltered. His shoulders stiffened before he slowly turned back, his expression a tangled mess of conflict and regret.

“Ernest!”

Linda lunged forward, fingers digging into his arm, her grip tight, desperate. Her swollen, tear–rimmed eyes bore into his as she shook her head, her voice low but seething. “You’re not leaving. Not like this.”

“Linda…”

His brow creased, his eyes dark with something unspoken. He held her gaze for a long, aching moment before

exhaling deeply.

Gently, deliberately, he pried her fingers from his arm. “We’ll talk when I return.”

The words hit her like a blow. Linda staggered back, her breath shuddering

Ernest spared her one last glance before turning away.

“Ernest! Ernest!”

Her voice cracked, desperation spilling into the empty space between them.

Nyla came rushing over, her brows knitted in confusion. She had caught fragments of the exchange, but none

of it made sense.

“Linda, what’s happening? What is all this?*

“Nyla

Linda spun toward her, her hands gripping Nyla’s arm like a lifeline, tears pooling in her eyes. “I need to know,” she whispered, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “I need to know what he’s been hiding from me.”

In the car

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“Um… Mr. Flynn?” Quentin’s sharp eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “Miss Harris is following us.”

Ernest remained unfazed, his expression unreadable. His voice, cool and unwavering, cut through the silence.

“Let her.”

Quentin gave a curt nod. “Understood.”

Their destination was already set–an orphanage.

The call had come unexpectedly. The orphanage director had informed them that the child had returned.

The boy was bright–eyed and healthy, his face carrying the kind of charm that made adoption seem inevitable.

Yet, fate had been unkind.

open arms–only to return him six months later when they had a biological child of

family took him in, promising stability. But a year later, their marriage

broken vows, was sent back

when Quentin had found

had faded into guarded silence. A heart too young to bear such burdens had already learned the sting

first arrived at the orphanage to take him in, the director hesitated, her eyes

concern.

Flynn, please consider this carefully. Raising a child is an act

said.

commit, he shouldn’t take

in ways that couldn’t be

gaze with firm resolve. “Rest assured,” he had said, his

the finest comforts–everything money could offer. Personal caregivers, a home that

despite it all, the child had run back to the

rolled to a stop, Ernest’s sharp eyes scanned the surroundings. The director stood waiting

outside

Mr. Flynn, she greeted, her

“You too.”

nod, his demeanor steady. But as his eyes searched for the child and found only absence, his jaw tightened.

usually composed, held an unfamiliar

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239 You Will Regret

offered a reassuring nod. “He’s inside,

sat on a wooden step stool, his small frame hunched

of cookies.

difficult. Running away from Maple Bay, searching for a place that felt safe–it was too much for a child his age.

rumpled and stained with dust, his little face smudged with

bite, he devoured the cookies

dry, and for the first time

his eyes.

as if afraid that one wrong move might

“Locke,” he whispered.

puffed up with food. The moment he heard his name, his little body

“Locke…”

a hand, meaning to ruffle the boy’s hair, to offer a gentle touch–something to reassure him.

He leapt from the stool, his small legs carrying him straight to the director, where he clung to her tightly, hiding behind her like

to his

chuckled awkwardly, stroking Locke’s back in

He adopted you, remember? You’re part of his family

“No!”

snapped up, his big, teary eyes filled with raw

a good boy! Let me stay here, please!”

“But, Locke…”

follow Mr. Flynn. You’ll live in a big house, eat all the good food you want,

voice cracked, his tiny frame trembling as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. “I don’t want to!” Nothing the director said could console him. His cries grew louder, his body shaking

Ernest, searching his face for any sign of frustration or impatience. “Mr. Flynn,

his cane,

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deliberately, he extended his hand

voice was softer this time, steady yet

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