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.

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

“Is this what | deserve?” she choked out, her voice raw with emotion. “Did you ever even think aboutwhen

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.

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

sent Quentin to track her down, but you can’t even say her name?”

“Oh no...” Nyla rushed in, eyes wide with alarm. She reached for Linda, prying her away from Ernest with firm

but gentle hands. “Linda, stop! He's still recovering!”

“Nyla...” she sobbed. “Doesn't this matter to you? Don’t you want to ask him what he’s done to me?”

“Alright,” Nyla murmured. “I'll ask him.”

Her voice softened, but the weight behind it remained. “Ernest, tellthis is all a misunderstanding. You can’t

explain, so should we call Quentin? Maybe he can clear this up?”

For the first time, Ernest stirred.

Seated in his 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

sound, he said, “No...”

The last of Linda's strength crumbled. “Ernest, you selfish bastard!”

Linda stormed 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 ssacred token. Like they

actually means something to you.” Her lips curling into a bitter sneer. “Well then, let's see how much you care

when they're gone!”

With one swift, merciless motion, she flung the hairpins out the window.

“No!”

The word ripped through the air like a gunshot.

Then-before she could even process the shock-something unthinkable happened. Ernest moved.

He pushed up from his wheelchair, his legs shaking violently beneath him, his body protesting the sudden

demand. But he tried.

He lurched forward-too fast, too unstable. His body crashed to the floor with a loud thud.

“Ernest!”

Nyla’s panicked scream filled the space as she darted toward him, her face pale with horror. She dropped

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beside him, hands trembling as she tried to help him up. “Ernest, can you hear me?”

Then, she turned to Linda, her expression dark with frustration.

“Linda, what the hell are you doing?” Nyla snapped, her breath shaky. “Was this really necessary? You know

he’s still weak!”

“Nyla...” Linda's voice wavered, barely a breath.

Nyla exhaled, shaking her head. The exhaustion in her voice was unmistakable.

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

Uncertain?

A bitter laugh slipped past Linda’s lips-hollow, empty.

Couldn't Nyla see it? The way Ernest had reacted-the sheer panic in his voice, the way he had moved for the first

tin years-over those two hairpins?

How could anyone still believe he had nothing to do with their owner?

“Hurry!” Nyla’s urgent voice broke the tension. “Cin here! Mr. Flynn has fallen down!”

The door burst open, and in cthe caregiver-along with Eric.

“What happened?”

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

under Ernest's armpits and hoisting him up with ease.

“Con,” he muttered, his grip steady as he helped Ernest back into his wheelchair.

The moment Ernest was seated, he didn’t spare anyone a glance. His fingers pressed the wheelchair’s control,

and without a word, he started rolling toward the door.

Eric looked from Ernest to Linda, utterly lost.

“Grandma? Where the hell is he going?”

“Oh no...”

Realization flashed across Nyla’s face. Without wasting a second, she hurried after him. “Con! Let's follow

him!”

The group trailed after Ernest as he made his way downstairs, heading straight for the garden.

Nyla had a sinking feeling-she knew exactly what Ernest was about to do. Turning swiftly, she called out, “Kira!

Get the servants! Help Mr. Flynn search!”

The entire household joined the effort. Everyone was there. Everyone-except Linda.

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

“Tortoiseshell. Small. Check everywhere!”

Eric's surprise was evident. “Grandma, are you saying... my brother?”

Nyla exhaled, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on her.

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Chapter 138 Two timing

She gave a slow nod. “I don’t know the full story...” Her gaze drifted toward Ernest, who remained oblivious to

everything around him, entirely fixated on the search.

“But just look at him,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Doesn't it tell you everything?”

She had never thought it possible. Ernest-her eldest grandson, always decent, always responsible, the one who

had never given her reason to worry-was hiding this?

“If he had toldfrom the beginning that his heart belonged to someone else,” she muttered, shaking her head

in exasperation. “Do you think | would've wasted my tarranging your engagement to Hadley? What a

mess!”

Eric stood frozen, unable to reconcile the image of his disciplined, no-nonsense brother with what Nyla was

implying.

Two-timing? Ernest?

Two hours passed. The garden had been thoroughly searched, yet only one hairpin had been recovered.

“Ernest.”

Nyla’s voice was softer now, filled with concern. She watched as he clutched the small hairpin tightly, his

knuckles white, his body rigid. “You must be exhausted. Go rest. Ill have the staff keep searching.”

Ernest didn’t budge. His fingers tightened around the delicate hairpin, his expression dark with frustration.

“Ernest!” Eric stepped in, his tone calm but firm. “It’s definitely here. The other hairpin is somewhere in the

garden-we will find it. But your health? That matters more. If you don’t rest, neither will Grandma. Do it for

her, alright?”

For the first tsince the search began, Ernest hesitated.

A long, tense pause. Then, finally-his shoulders dropped slightly, his fingers loosened, and he gave a small nod.

“Okay.”

“Quick! Take Mr. Flynn back to his room!”

“Grandma, I'll take care of it,” Eric said, stepping forward.

After ensuring Ernest was settled, Eric stepped out of the room, only to find Linda waiting for him.

“Eric.” Her voice was cold, edged with something dangerous.

“Tellthe truth,” Linda demanded. “Do you know who she is?”

It wasn’t a casual question. It was an accusation, sharp and direct. The two brothers had always been close,

sharing everything.

Before the accident, Eric had been the person Ernest trusted most. If anyone knew the truth, it would be him.

“I...” Eric hesitated, shaking his head with a helpless sigh. “I really don’t know. Ernest never mentioned

anything.” Linda’s eyes narrowed.

“It has to be a misunderstanding.” Eric added. “You know Ernest-he’s not that kind of person.”

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Linda scoffed, her expression darkening. “Not talking, huh? Keeping his secret? Fine. Keep covering for him. Let's

see how long you can keep this hidden.”