The Billionaire Who Stole My Heart novel Chapter 969

"Alright."

After Hugh left, Brittany returned to her studio, only to be summoned away by Ysabel for a meeting.

Meanwhile, Hugh settled into the backseat of a sleek black Bentley.

The woman who had just dined with him spoke with deferential poise, "Young Master."

"Erase all trails. We can't let anyone trace our whereabouts."

"There’s been someone snooping around the research institute," the woman said with a slight frown. "Could it be Ms. Dustin?"

"I'll persuade her to back off."

Hugh leaned back against the plush leather seat. "How's Estelle doing?"

"The Hartman family is being stubborn. She's living with Mr. Dominic Hartman."

"Hmph, she's got nothing but Dominic on her mind. Forget it, let's go."

...

It took Brittany three days to finalize the design draft for Hugh, who was quite pleased with the outcome.

Once she was sure everything was in order, Brittany handed the blueprints over to the factory.

As the end of the month neared, the buzz around Saskia's wedding intensified.

While the Lynette family was abuzz with activity, the Metzger family remained unusually quiet.

Jonathan had been recuperating for over half a month, and his wounds had significantly healed. He had completely forgotten about Saskia, his attention now solely on Ophelia.

Ophelia, on the other hand, was utterly exasperated by his attention. Mrs. Metzger's hopes for her to keep Jonathan company only added to her frustration.

With no real way to decline, Ophelia brought her work to the hospital room, settling into a couch to tackle her paperwork.

Jonathan lay in bed, his eyes brimming with a plaintive look, fixated on Ophelia.

"Ophelia, why won't you talk to me?"

Ophelia was silent, her attention unyielding from her documents.

Jonathan could sense Ophelia's annoyance with him, perhaps even finding him bothersome. Whenever he couldn't see Ophelia, he felt an irritating emptiness, as if he'd lost something vital. Yet, Ophelia didn't care for him. If it weren't for Mrs. Metzger's wishes, she probably wouldn't stay at the hospital.

Curled up on his bed, Jonathan's head drooped like a wilted flower.