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

Chapter 178 The Fierce, Untamed Fire

Late into the night...

The house was heavy with tension. Everyone remained gathered in the living room, waiting-except for Nyla,

who had been too exhausted to keep up and was sent to rest by her grandsons.

Then, at last-Quentin strode in, his voice breaking the unbearable stillness. “We found the driver!”

The words had barely left his lips before Eric shot to his feet. “Where is he?”

Quentin didn’t hesitate. “Our people are on their way to him now.”

“Then let's go.”

Eric’s voice was sharp, decisive.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“Linda!”

She turned to Ernest, blinking in surprise. “What is it, Ernest?”

Ernest met her gaze, his expression unwavering. “We're going too.”

What? Her hands curled slightly at her sides. Even in the dim light, the faint pallor in her face was noticeable.

“We? But your health-"

“I'll be fine.”

Ernest brushed aside any hesitation with a decisive wave of his hand. “Hadley is like a sister to me.”

How could he possibly sit back when his sister was missing?

His gaze snapped toward Linda, sharp and unyielding. “If you don’t want to come, then stay here.”

Linda's fingers twitched, her forced smile barely holding. “What are you talking about?” she said lightly, masking

the sting. “Of course, I'm worried about Hadley too.”

Like a sister?

The thought almost made her laugh. That was nothing more than a convenient excuse.

But she had no intention of staying behind-not when she needed to keep an eye on him.

Suppressing the flicker of irritation, she softened her tone. “I just don’t want you overexerting yourself.” With a

smooth motion, she stepped forward, gripping the wheelchair handles. “Let's go together.”

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Chapter 178 The Fierce, Untamed Fire

Ernest hesitated for a beat, but then nodded. “Alright.”

The night air was crisp, heavy with anticipation.

Eric stepped outside, his gaze sweeping over the lineup of cars. A flash of silver-gray caught his attention.

Denver. So, he hadn't left?

Eric barely spared him a glance. If the man wanted to tag along, so be it. Without another thought, he slid into

his own car as the convoy roared to life.

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Meanwhile, Denver's hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. A dull ache pulsed through

his leg, growing sharper with every mile.

Snow fell thick and heavy, blanketing the deserted factory district in an eerie silence.

There were no towering buildings in sight, just rows of dilapidated structures, their metal sheets rusted from

years of neglect.

The air was damp, laced with a musty stench that clung to the concrete walls. Inside the low, shabby houses, the

floor was nothing more than rough, unfinished cement.

A single copper wire dangled from the ceiling, feeding into an old incandescent bulb that flickered with an

irritating orange glow.

The atmosphere reeked of unease.

In the dimly lit hall, a buzz-cut man, somewhere in his late thirties or early forties, sat slumped between two

large men gripping his arms.

Unbothered by his predicament, he yawned, blinking lazily as tears welled up from exhaustion. “What's this

about?” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s late. | need to get srest.”

The air shifted the moment Eric stepped inside. His gaze locked onto the buzz-cut man instantly.

With slow, deliberate movements, he strode toward the table, planting both hands on the surface, his body

leaning forward. “Where's my wife?”

The buzz-cut man blinked in confusion. “Huh? Your wife?”

“Phillips!”

At his command, Phillips stepped forward, unlocking his phone and thrusting it toward the man’s face. “Look

closely! Do you recognize her?”

“Wow...” the man murmured, his voice dragging as he took in the photo.

“She’s a real looker!”

“That's not the damn question!” Phillips gritted his teeth. “Where did you take her after she got into your car?”

The buzz-cut man paused, as if sifting through his scattered thoughts.

Then, a slow, lazy chuckle left his lips. “How do you expectto remember such details?”

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Chapter 178 The Ferce, Untamed Fre

But the way his gaze flickered across the room, taking in the sheer number of men standing before him-the

wealth, the power-he knew. This wasn’t an ordinary situation.

With a smirk, be tapped his temple.

Letthink... | remember, | remember, she-

His gaze flicked toward Eric, his smirk deepening.

It was clear. This man was the one in charge.

A low chuckle broke the silence. The buzz-cut man smirked, raising his hand in a slow, deliberate motion, his

fingers rubbing together as if he was counting money.

“If I tell you what you want to know, what do | get in return?*

Eric's stare turned razor-sharp-lethal

Phillips stepped forward, his voice snapping like a whip. “If the information is real, money's not an issue!”

“Hold of.”

Eric lifted a hand, halting Phillips in his tracks.

“What is it, Mr. Flynn?”

His gare drifted downward-toward something near the man’s feet. His breath hitched, his body tensing as he

slowly bent down, fingers closing around a red cashmere cardigan. Hadley’s.

Heat surged through him like wildfire. A slow-burning fury that erupted all at once.

Without hesitation, Eric pivoted, his leg snapping out in a brutal kick-sending the chair, and the man in it,

crashing to the ground!

“Mr. Flynn!”

“Eric

Phillips‘ voice rang out, followed by Linda's sharp gasp as she pushed Ernest's wheelchair into the room.

But it wasn’t over.

Eric moved before anyone could stop him, grabbing the fallen man by his collar and yanking him upright. Then -

another punch. A sickening crunch echoed through the room as blood splattered onto the cold concrete floor.

“Mr. Flynn!

Phillips hesitated, visibly unsettled. This wasn’t like him at all.

But Eric didn’t care.

His knuckles clenched, his voice a low, menacing growl. “Where is my wife? What the hell did you do to her?”

The buzz-cut man let out a strangled, bloodied chuckle.

His lips curled into a twisted grin, his gaze shifting toward the red cardigan clenched in Eric's fist.

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“Oh, so that woman is your wife?” he said, as if savoring the revelation.

Leaning back slightly, he exhaled with a smirk. “If you'd just said so earlier, | might've remembered sooner.

Quite the beauty, that one...”

“You're really want to push your luck today?‘

With a feral growl, he launched himself forward, fists flying-each punch landing with crushing force.

“Is this funny to you? What the hell did you do to her?”

His fear had reached its breaking point.

Hadley-his Hadley-had been at the mercy of this scum. And it was all his fault.

If he had protected her better-if he had never let her out of his sight-she wouldn't have ended up in this

nightmare.

Just as things spiraled out of control, Ernest’s voice cut through the madness. “Eric! Stop!”

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But Eric’couldn’t stop. That red cardigan-Hadley’s cardigan-was something he had chosen for her, delivered by

FOUR Hours, meant only for her.

And now, it lay crumpled and discarded, tainted by the hands of this filth. His mind recoiled at the horrifying

images clawing their way in-Hadley, vulnerable, fabric ripped away, trapped in fear.

“You dared to lay your filthy hands on her? You're gonna fucking pay for it!”

On the verge of breaking, Eric's mind spiraled, his breath ragged as he drove his fists forward, again and again,

his voice hoarse, raw, repeating the swords like a fevered chant.

“Mr. Flynn!” Phillips lunged forward, trying to pull Eric away-only to be shoved back with force. “Get lost!”

If this went on any longer, something terrible was going to happen.

Linda felt it-a bone-deep unease prickling across her skin. She had grown up with Eric, had practically known

him his entire life.

And in this moment, as she watched him spiral into violence, it was as if she was seeing the boy he used to be -

the fierce, untamed fire hidden beneath the mask of a gentleman.

“Eric!”

Taking a sharp breath, Linda rushed forward, throwing her arms around his waist. “Stop! Please, stop! | beg you -

stop!”

Her voice trembled as she tilted her face up to him, her grip tightening. “If you kill him, how will we ever find

Hadley?”

She knew Eric better than anyone.

You can kill him,” she murmured, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “I won't stop you. But at

least... wait until he tells us where Hadley is.”

Finally-Eric stilled. His breaths crough and uneven, his bloodshot eyes dark with realization.

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Chapter 178 The Fierce, Untamed Fire

Yes. Hadley cfirst.

The buzz-cut man lay sprawled on the floor, a crumpled, bloodied heap. His breath rattled, his swollen face

barely recognizable.

“Speak! Where is my wife? What did you do to her? Where is she?”

“No, please...” The man’s body trembled, his battered frwracked with pain. “I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Eric's rage flared hot again, his muscles coiling as he readied for another strike-But Linda's grip tightened.

“Then what do you know?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the room like steel. “Talk. Now.”

The man coughed, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. “I'll talk... I'll talk...”

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