Chapter 407
“Hurry!” Nyla’s urgent voice broke the tension. “Come in here! Mr. Flynn has fallen down!”
The door burst open, and in came the caregiver—along with Eric.
“What happened?”
Eric froze at the sight of his brother sprawled on the floor. In an instant, he strode forward, slipping his arms under Ernest’s armpits and hoisting him up with ease.
“Come on,” he muttered, his grip steady as he helped Ernest back into his wheelchair.
The moment Ernest was seated, he didn’t spare anyone a glance. His fingers pressed the wheelchair’s control, and without a word, he started rolling toward the door.
Eric looked from Ernest to Linda, utterly lost.
“Grandma? Where the hell is he going?”
Realization flashed across Nyla’s face. Without wasting a second, she hurried after him.
“Come on! Let’s follow him!”
The group trailed after Ernest as he made his way downstairs, heading straight for the garden.
Nyla had a sinking feeling—she knew exactly what Ernest was about to do.
Turning swiftly, she called out,
“Kira! Get the servants! Help Mr. Flynn search!”
The entire household joined the effort. Everyone was there. Everyone—except Linda.
“Wait… what exactly are we looking for?” one of the servants asked.
“Two hairpins,” Nyla responded quickly. “Tortoiseshell. Small. Check everywhere!”
Eric’s surprise was evident.
“Grandma, are you saying… my brother?”
Nyla exhaled, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on her.
She gave a slow nod.
“I don’t know the full story…” Her gaze drifted toward Ernest, who remained oblivious to everything around him, entirely fixated on the search.
“But just look at him,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Doesn’t it tell you everything?”
She had never thought it possible. Ernest—her eldest grandson, always decent, always responsible, the one who had never given her reason to worry—was hiding this?
“If he had told me from the beginning that his heart belonged to someone else,” she muttered, shaking her head in exasperation. “Do you think I would’ve wasted my time arranging your engagement to Hadley? What a mess!”
Eric stood frozen, unable to reconcile the image of his disciplined, no-nonsense brother with what Nyla was implying.
Two-timing? Ernest?
Two hours passed. The garden had been thoroughly searched, yet only one hairpin had been recovered.
“Ernest!”
Nyla’s voice was softer now, filled with concern. She watched as he clutched the small hairpin tightly, his knuckles white, his body rigid.
“You must be exhausted. Go rest. I’ll have the staff keep searching.”