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

Chapter 97 Ernest Wakes Up

Hadley browsed through the information but didn’t see anything specific relating to what she was looking for.

After a pause, she keyed in the words “praying mantis” “bite” “partner.”

Then she saw her answer.

“Temale praying mantises are known for their cannibalistic mating behavior, where they bite off the head or legs

of their partners after mating.”

Speechless, Hadley put her phone away,

Several days later, within the opulent walls of the Flynn Mansion, while Nyla mended from her recent operation,

Eric had taken up residence at the family mansion to keep her company.

In the stillness of the witching hour, Eric slumbered deeply, only to be roused by the shrill chof his phone.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his mind, but it vanished like mist when he glimpsed the caller ID.

It was the physician overseeing Ernest's care that was calling. Sleepiness fled in an instant.

“Yes, hello?”

“Mr. Flynn! Your brother has stirred from his long slumber!”

Eric went rigid, a shiver racing through him, raising every hair in its wake.

It felt like a dream woven from threads of disbelief. “Repeat that, please!”

“Your elder brother is awake! His eyes have fluttered open!”

Astonishing-beyond belief!

A tidal wave of emotion crashed over Eric, shattering his usual composure. Before he could rein it in, a warm blur

clouded his vision, spilling over as tears of unrestrained joy.

After all these years... Ernest had returned to them!

No longer would his brother languish on that sterile hospital bed, ensnared by a web of tubes and the hum of

machines, trapped in an endless twilight.

“Mr. Flynn?” The doctor's voice echoed from the other end. “When might you grace us with your presence?”

Eric's senses snapped into focus, his voice raw and quivering with barely contained elation.

< Chapter 97 Emest Wakes Up

“This very instant! I'm on my way!”

His brother had awakened-how could he delay even a heartbeat?

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“Very well! We'll be expecting you.”

Tossing the phone aside, Eric dashed to dress, but as he crossed into his sprawling wardrobe, he pivoted sharply

on his heel.

“Grandma! Of course, | must tell Grandma!”

Such a monumental occasion-how could he not share it with Nyla? Despite the late hour, the news simply

couldnt wait for dawn’s light.

It wasn’t merely a matter of her potential displeasure at being left in the dark-he simply couldn't hoard this

jubilation alone!

Thus, under the cloak of night, Eric and Nyla departed the Flynn Mansion, bound for the private hospital where

Ernest was.

In the car, Nyla’s tears flowed unchecked, a river of pent-up relief.

“Grandma,” Eric murmured, his own eyes rimmed with red as he offered her a tissue. “You mustn't weep so. |

know your heart's brimming with joy, but your health demands care too.”

“Lecturingnow, are you?” Nyla shot him a watery glare. “Do you think I'm shedding these tears by choice?

They've a mind of their own! Oh... my dear Ernest, awake at last! At long last!”

Nyla pressed a hand to her heart, her sobs rolling like thunder. “I once feared he would linger in that limbo

forever... that | would meet my maker before he ever gazed upon the world again.”

Eric's chest tightened, a dull pang twisting within.

“No, Grandma. Ernest would never abandon us so-he has proven it tonight, hasn't he?”

That night, Linda was absent, immersed in the filming of a nocturnal scene far from the Flynn Mansion’s

embrace.

Nyla sighed, a heavy breath laced with longing, “And of all nights for Linda to be away... how can she not be at

Ernest's side when he opens his eyes?”

“There is no need to fret.” Eric soothed. “I've already spoken to her agent. The moment Linda's scene wraps,

she’ll hasten to the hospital.”

“That will have to suffice, | suppose.”

Within the hushed confines of the hospital room, tranquility reigned supreme.

The late hour had dimmed the primary lights, leaving only the gentle radiance of wall sconces to bathe the

space in a soft glow.

Eric guided Nyla to the bedside with tender care, their movements as delicate as a whisper.

Reclining on the hospital bed, Ernest bore the sserene visage he had worn throughout his long coma-eyes

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Chapter 97 Ernest Wakes Up

shut, breaths even and unhurried.

“Why...” Nyla’s voice trembled, her weathered eyes brimming with a storm of feelings as she turned to the

doctor, bewilderment etched across her face.

The doctor, sensing her unease, offered swift reassurance. “Fear not, Mrs. Flynn. He awoke earlier-now he is

merely sleeping. Try taking his hand and speaking to him.”

“Very well...”

With a quivering hand, Nyla reached out, her fingers curling gently around Ernest's.

The instant her lips parted to speak, tears carved glistening trails down her timeworn cheeks. She dared not lift

her voice above a murmur, her words laced with quiet sobs. “Ernest... Ernest, it's Grandma. I've cto see

you, my sweet boy.”

At that, the room seemed to hold its breath. Silence reigned, stillness prevailed-every gaze locked onto Ernest,

as if fearful of missing the flicker of his awakening.

At last, Ernest’s eyelids trembled, and with agonizing slowness, they lifted. His eyes found Nyla first, and then

drifted to Eric standing nearby.

“Brother,” Eric said, stepping closer to ensure he filled Ernest's view. “It’s me, Eric. Grandma and | are here with

you.”

Tears sprang to Ernest's eyes in an instant, shimmering on his lashes before spilling free from the corners. Nyla’s

composure crumbled entirely. She clutched her eldest grandson’s hand with fervent strength, her voice

fracturing as sobs overtook her. “Ernest, my darling!”

Eric, ever mindful of his grandmother's fragile state, steadied her with a gentle touch. “Grandma, you mustn't

weep so. It'll only weigh on Ernest's heart even more!”

At his words, Nyla wrestled her sobs into submission, though the ache within her chest gnawed relentlessly.

Yet something felt amiss. Ernest's response... it wasn’t what she had envisioned.

She turned to the doctor, her eyes alight with unspoken queries. Hadn't he really awakened?

If he was truly conscious, shouldn't words have tumbled from his lips by now? Since their arrival, Ernest had

uttered not a sound.

Reading her distress, the doctor offered a soothing explanation. “Mrs. Flynn, there's no cause for alarm. This is

quite typical for someone emerging from such a prolonged slumber...”

It was only natural for someone rousing from years in a coma to need tto mend.

Ernest's mind was awake, but his voice, his movement, even the simplest acts of self-reliance-they would

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require patient rehabilitation. He was starting anew, like a child learning the world afresh.

“Rest assured, though,” the doctor added with calm certainty, “with tand therapy, he'll make strides

forward.”

Nyla released a tremulous breath, and then gave Ernest's hand a tender pat. “Did you hear that, love? All will be

well in time. No need to hurry, alright?”

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Chapter 97 Ernest Wakes Up

Though Ernest's lips remained sealed, the steady stream of tears spoke volumes-be understood her every

word.

Nyla’s heart twisted anew. “You must be weary, poor thing I'm sorry we roused you so late Rest now, dear one

Grandma will stay right by your side.”

“Yes,” Eric chimed in, his tone warm and steadfast. “I'll be here too.”

Ernest, still voiceless, let his eyes drift shut once more, surrendering to slumber’s gentle pull.

Once he was peacefully asleep, Eric guided Nyla to the outer lounge, where the doctor awaited to shed further

light on Ernest's condition.

“Speak plainly,” Nyla demanded, her tone resolute and imbued with a quiet power. Though she had long

relinquished the helm of the Flynn dynasty, her presence still commanded reverence. “Will Ernest ever reclaim

the life he once knew?”

The doctor faltered for a fleeting moment before answering with measured candor. | cannot vow a complete

restoration. Medicine is an art of uncertainties, and each soul dances to its own rhythm of healing.

Seeing Nyla’s face shadow with dismay, he hastened to bolster her spirits. “Yet | swear to you, we'll leave no

stone unturned in his care. Mrs. Flynn, we must hold fast to hope.”

His eyes darted to Eric, a silent plea for reinforcement.

A weight settled in Eric's chest, heavy as stone, yet he had no luxury to falter. With Ernest still frail, the mantle of

the Flynn family’s future rested squarely upon him, demanding he stand tall.

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