The Billionaire Who Stole My Heart novel Chapter 1192

The butler supported Eltham back to his room, while Hestia whipped up a hangover cure, a steaming cup of strong black coffee with a dash of honey, just about to deliver it when she was stopped by the butler.

“Ms. Bennett, I'll take care of it. You should get some rest.”

The butler wasn't fond of Brittany.

Nor did he have any respect for Hestia.

Plainly speaking, he believed Eltham deserved the finest woman in the world.

In his eyes, Hestia, coming from a humble background, even with a daughter, still wasn't fit for high society.

Hestia's eagerness to please Eltham was, in his view, a mere chase after a status upgrade.

The butler knew exactly what game Hestia was playing, pretending to care with her hangover remedy.

“Alright.”

Hestia felt as if she had been slapped across the face. Her cheeks burning, she handed over the coffee and headed to Twila's room.

Twila had already drifted off to sleep.

The scars on her wrists were glaringly visible.

The doctors had said the damage was severe, and even with reconstructive surgery, playing the piano was out of the question.

Twila had her moments of tears and tantrums over this, but eventually, she had to let go.

Watching her daughter's frail figure, Hestia felt a surge of resentment for the first time.

If only she had been stronger, could she have protected Twila from harm?

Eltham had a restless night, with the butler by his side the entire time.

Only at dawn, when Eltham finally fell into a deep sleep, did the butler step out, instructing the staff to be extra attentive and not let anyone take advantage of the situation.

After the butler left, the staff guarded the door.

Hestia emerged from Twila's room and asked a servant, “Is Eltham feeling better?”

“Yes, much better.”

Hestia nodded, tempted to check on him, but the servant’s stance didn’t invite further action, so she reluctantly backed off.