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17kNovel > Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You can’t afford me now > Chapter 3081

Chapter 3081

    ?Chapter 3081:


    “When Mr. Flynn walked out, he didn’t even bother taking his medication,” Emma added. “He left everything behind at the hospital.”


    That alone hinted at something reckless—almost deliberately self-destructive.


    Phone trembling in her grip, Elissa paced the floor, her heartbeat thundering as uncertainty closed in around her.


    “Elissa?” Emma’s voice snapped her out of her daze. “Maybe you should go see him… make sure he’s okay?”


    “Me?” Elissa stopped in her tracks, stunned.


    “Who else?” Emma replied briskly. “I already grabbed his meds from the hospital. I’ll swing by to pick you up—you can give them to him yourself.”


    “But…” Elissa faltered, uncertainty knotting her tongue.


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    “Is something in the way?” Emma insisted. “Your mother’s home, isn’t she? That’s fine. I’ll tell her you’re going out with me—like always.”


    “No,” Elissa murmured, shaking her head. “She’s still at the university—she’s workingte.”


    “Even better,” Emma dered. “Stay put—I’m on my way. See you in a bit.”


    Before Elissa could gather a single coherent thought, the call cut off—Emma was already gone.


    Left with no room to argue, Elissa exhaled shakily and slipped into the walk-in closet to change.


    It wasn’t long before Emma’s car pulled up outside.


    Elissa descended the stairs dressed and ready, and Emma met her at the door, hand outstretched. “Come on—let’s get moving.”


    “Alright,” Elissa whispered.


    “Miss Brown, you’re going out again?” the housemaid ventured, uncertain. Twice in one afternoon? She seemed unsure whether to intervene.


    “Rx,” Emma assured gently. “She’s with me—when have I ever failed to return her safe and sound?”


    ncing at her watch, she added casually, “We’re already cutting it close for the concert—let’s hurry.”


    “Oh—right.” Elissa waved lightly. “I’m heading out. I’ll message my mom.”


    “Of course, Miss Brown,” the maid replied.


    They stepped outside and hurried to the car. A short driveter, they reached Ernest’s home.


    Emma sped Elissa’s hand for reassurance and jabbed the doorbell several times.


    “Why isn’t he picking up?” Elissa whispered, anxiety creeping into her voice.


    A dozen awful possibilities shed through her mind. Had something gone wrong? Had his injuries worsened?


    Atst—after what felt like forever—the door swung open.


    “Let’s go,” Emma urged softly.


    She guided Elissa through the gate and reached the front door. Ernest stood before them, looking nothing short of wrecked. Fatigue shadowed every line of his otherwise handsome face.


    He shot Emma a puzzled frown. “Miss Carrillo?”


    “That’s me,” Emma replied, then shook her head with a knowing smile. “But I’m only the messenger today.”


    She gently nudged Elissa ahead. “It’s Elissa who came for you.”


    Leaning in, she whispered to her friend, “Same n asst time. I’ll give you space—call when you want to leave.”


    She gestured the shape of a phone.


    “Okay,” Elissa murmured with gratitude. “Thank you for everything.”


    Emma shed a bright grin. “Go on in.” Then she slipped out and closed the door softly behind her.


    A hush fell over the foyer, leaving only Elissa and Ernest standing opposite each other.


    Their gazes locked—words momentarily abandoned them.


    For the first time, Elissa truly looked at him… and shock rippled through her.


    What on earth had he done to himself?


    The bandages that once covered his injuries were gone—exposing raw, inmed wounds that made her chest tighten. One entire side of his ck shirt and trousers was drenched, the fabric clinging to him, most noticeably at his pant leg.


    After a tense moment, Elissa’s brows knit. “What… happened to you?” she asked softly.


    “Nothing worth mentioning,” Ernest replied, tone dull. “I slipped in the bathroom andnded in the bathtub.”


    Elissa could only stare, speech robbed from her.


    Was he really that unsteady? Injured enough that even his own home was dangerous to him?


    Why had he insisted on leaving the hospital so soon, then?


    .


    .


    .
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