Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You can’t afford me now

Chapter 892:

“Care for you?” she hissed under her breath. “Didn’t you figure that out already? If it weren’t for Joy, would I even be near someone who ditched me four years ago?”

Her words hit Eric like a sledgehammer, leaving him stock-still, his face blank.

Hadley shoved him off in the stunned pause and twisted toward the door.

“Hadley!”

He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her from behind, crossing them over her chest. His voice dropped, raw and pleading. “What do you want from me? I didn’t care back then! I treated you like dirt! But I can’t rewrite history. Tell me—what can I do to make it right?”

How could he have seen this coming all those years ago?

Hadley’s spine went rigid. She stared blankly through the windshield, her tone icy. “Then let’s leave it behind us.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, a memory flickering—her boarding that lonely flight to Blathe four years prior…

“For me, what we had died back then. It’s been over between us since that day you sent me away.”

After dropping Hadley off, the evening was still young. Unwilling to be alone, Eric steered toward Poseidon’s Realm. To his surprise, only Barrie was there—Marshall was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Marshall tied up?” Eric asked offhandedly.

Barrie shrugged. “No clue. Said something’s up at home.”

Eric paused, caught off guard. “Something wrong? Does he need a hand?”

“Didn’t say. If he’s in a bind, he’ll holler.” He nodded toward Eric. “Up for a round?”

“Let’s go.”

R𝗲𝒶𝗅 f𝑜𝓇m 𝒽𝒶𝓁𝑑 ⓐt gⲁ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⧼𝖼𝖮𝖒

Marshall was indeed tied up, but not with the Myers clan—it was Wilma’s side stirring trouble.

When he arrived, Wilma latched onto his arm, frantic. “Marshall, you’ve got to help me out.”noveldrama

“Don’t worry, Aunt Wilma,” Marshall assured her with a nod. “I’ll give it my all.” He glanced around and asked, “Where’s Denver?”

“Upstairs in the study,” Wilma said, her face tightening as she led him up. “I can’t figure out why he’s so dead-set on heading overseas!” As she spoke, they reached the study door, and she knocked. “Denver, it’s me—and your cousin Marshall.”

“Come in,” Denver’s crisp voice sounded.

“Go ahead,” Wilma said, pushing the door open to reveal a cluttered room, books strewn everywhere.

“What’s all this?” Wilma frowned. “Your cousin’s here, and it’s a mess!”

“It’s fine,” Marshall brushed it off.

“Hey, Marshall,” Denver greeted with a grin. “Didn’t know you were dropping by. I’m packing—these books are coming with me. Leaving them here is just asking for dust…”

“Denver!” Wilma cut in, nerves fraying. “Why are you so stubborn?” She grabbed his arm. “I get it—the blind date with Astrid rubbed you wrong, but that’s on the Jenkins family. They’re the ones embarrassed, not you. No need to flee the country over it.”

“Mom,” Denver said, letting her vent before offering a soft smile. “You think that’s why?”

Wilma froze. “Then what’s driving you?”

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