Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change?
Chapter 357

Gilbert furrowed his brows, falling into a brief silence. "No more of this. Charles, let's go!"

"Yes, sir!"

Charles, barely daring to breathe, hurried after him. Caroline stood rigid, her face ashen. What on earth was happening? Her brother was like this, her other brother was like this, and as soon as Sherilyn returned... it was as though the sky had changed!

Stepping outside, Gilbert caught sight of that silver Pagani again, his expression souring further.

"Mr. Ferguson has been following us, hasn't left," Charles explained.

Like a bad penny!

Gilbert clenched his jaw; he had no time for these games now. Let it be. He bent to get into the car, and they drove off, the silver Pagani trailing behind.

At the Johnson Group headquarters, a mountain of work awaited him. Gilbert mustered his energy, bustling about. By evening, he'd managed to wrap up most of his tasks. He had neither the energy nor the mood for any socializing.

Descending to the parking garage, he got into the car, ready to head back to the Johnson Mansion. As they drove out, Gilbert couldn't help but ask, "Still no word?"

"...Yes," Charles hesitated for a moment before replying.

Hearing this, Gilbert closed his eyes, leaning back in frustration, and loosening his tie. It was the expected outcome. If there had been any news, Charles would have told him already. Gathering his courage, Charles ventured, "Mr. Gilbert, maybe no news is good news. Perhaps Sherilyn has found some friends we don't know about... who've taken her in..."

He was cut off suddenly by the screech of brakes as the car came to an abrupt stop.

Charles glanced at the driver and asked, "David, you've been at this for ages. What's going on?"

"Oops." David offered an apologetic grin, "My bad... Look, some girl just stopped right in the middle of the road, how could I have anticipated that?"

Charles looked ahead and indeed, there was a girl there. With the roads slick with snow, her belongings scattered everywhere, she was squatting down to gather them up. "That person..." Charles squinted, "Mr. Gilbert, isn't she from Sherilyn's dance troupe? What's her name... Rebecca?"

Gilbert remained indifferent; what did it matter to him whether her intentions were good or bad?

"Mr. Gilbert, I'll go lend her a hand."

Charles got out of the car to help Rebecca collect her things. Until she moved, they couldn't drive on.

"Miss Rebecca," Charles helped her gather everything, "Be careful on these slippery roads."

"Thank you."

Rebecca offered a smile, hugging her possessions close.

"Your bag's torn." Charles kindly offered, "Are you heading home? We could give you a lift."

"No, that's okay," Rebecca hesitated before quickly declining, "I'll manage on my own. Thanks anyway."

Charles didn't insist, bending down to pick up a box and handing it to her. Looking puzzled, he asked, "Miss Rebecca, are you hurt? Running a fever?"

"Uh, yeah." Rebecca offered a noncommittal smile, stuffing the box back into her bag. "Thank you, I've got to go!"

Clutching her belongings, she hurried across the street.

Charles got back into the car, turning to Gilbert. "Mr. Gilbert, that Rebecca... she's acting strange. She doesn't look injured, yet she bought antiseptic and fever patches..." "David, drive!"

"Sure thing."

Gilbert showed no interest in Rebecca's situation. As they drove off, Charles continued, now pointing out of the window, "Isn't that Rebecca? Weird, what's she doing heading this way? This isn't the way to Emerald Estates; it's the complete opposite..."

Suddenly, Gilbert's eyes snapped open, and he sat bolt upright. Charles jumped, "Mr. Gilbert, I... I'll stop."

Gilbert had no time for explanations, instructing David, "David, follow that Rebecca!"