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

Chapter 685:

She quietly wondered if things might actually work out, if Eric might keep caring about Joy, if maybe this could be their chance.

Yet as soon as the thought came, her vision wavered, and her heartbeat quickened uncomfortably.

Reaching for support, Hadley leaned against the kitchen island, waiting anxiously until the spinning sensation and rapid pulse faded away.

At Flynn Mansion.

Hours past midnight.

The harsh ring of Ernest’s phone woke him from sleep. Quentin’s name flashed urgently on the screen.

He answered quickly.

“What is it?”

“Mr. Flynn!” Quentin’s usually steady voice cracked with anxiety.

“The boy’s missing!”

Missing?

Ernest pushed himself upright, his mind suddenly sharp and alert.

Fury flashed across his face, and he clenched his jaw, snapping into the phone,

“You had one job—watching a toddler—and you couldn’t even handle that?”

His son had been temporarily staying with Quentin, and Ernest still hadn’t worked up the courage to explain the boy’s existence to Linda.

On the other end, Quentin remained silent, taking in the scolding. After a pause, Ernest exhaled deeply, attempting to regain his composure.

𝖀𝖑𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖈𝖊: g𝖺𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⧽𝖼𝗈𝗺noveldrama

It wasn’t entirely Quentin’s fault; he had responsibilities of his own.

Two professional nannies had been hired, rotating shifts specifically to keep close tabs on the three-year-old.

Ernest walked to the window. It was two in the morning. How could a three-year-old just vanish?

Quentin explained,

“Around eight o’clock, the nanny tucked him in, and everything appeared perfectly normal.”

“But when she checked on him a few hours later, the bed was empty! In a panic, she had rushed straight to Quentin to report it right away.”

Quentin immediately reviewed the security footage and alerted the guards.

Disturbingly, the video showed the toddler quietly slipping out of the house and wandering into the night. According to the time logs, the child had already been missing for over four hours.

Ernest stood frozen, gripping the phone tightly, shadows deepening across his face.

“Mr. Flynn,” Quentin added carefully,

“I’ve already informed the police, and our security team is combing the area now.”

In short, everything that could be done was already in motion.

Yet, no updates had surfaced.

Quentin grasped the seriousness of the situation and knew he had to inform Ernest right away.

“Tell me exactly where you are.”

“Waiting just outside the front gate.”

.

.

.