Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change?



Bella and Mason hurried into the elevator lobby, their breaths coming in short gasps from the run.

"Hold on!"

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, an arm shot out, halting them. With a soft ding, the doors obediently reopened.

"Thanks!"

Galen stepped in briskly, followed closely by Sherilyn, who echoed his thanks, "Thanks."

Inside the elevator, an awkward silence ensued.

In the cramped space, there were only four of them: Gilbert, Charles, Galen, and Sherilyn.

"Is it you?"

Galen smirked coldly, his eyes filled with hostility as he glared at Gilbert.

Huh? Gilbert's furrowed brows lifted slightly. Did he know him? Turning to Sherilyn, he realized the connection, and a chill spread from deep within him.

This pretty boy, what was he to Sherilyn?

Ever since Galen discovered how Gilbert had treated his sister, his animosity toward Gilbert had only grown. Seeing him in person, he could barely resist the urge to throw a punch.

"Fu-"

"Galen!"

Seeing Galen's anger rising, Sherilyn quickly grabbed his arm, gently shaking her head.

"Let's not get into it. We're here to eat."

Galen's muscles tensed, but he fought back his anger and nodded gruffly, "Got it!"

"Stop looking."

Sherilyn whispered, turning Galen away to prevent any further confrontation.

To Gilbert, their posture looked unmistakably like that of a couple, closer than Sherilyn had ever been with him.

In an instant, Gilbert felt engulfed by jealousy, sour to the core.

The elevator stopped on the 9th floor. As soon as the doors opened, Sherilyn and Galen hurried out.

"Quickly!"

Following closely behind, Gilbert and Charles exited the elevator.

Gilbert, with his hands in his pockets and chin slightly raised, watched Sherilyn and Galen's retreating figures for a long time, his fists clenching so tightly in his pockets that his knuckles cracked.

"Charles."

"Yes, Mr. Gilbert."

"Find out about that guy!"

"Yes, Mr. Gilbert."

...

They arrived five minutes early for their appointment, only to find the others were already there.

This was a room styled like a traditional Chinese private dining area, with a foyer and a decorative screen at the entrance.

As soon as they entered, a young man in a black suit was waiting.

"Which one of you is in charge? Only one needs to go in."

Gilbert glanced at Charles and gave a slight nod, "Wait here for me."

"Yes, Mr. Gilbert."

Gilbert eyed the man in the suit, who gestured for him to follow, "This way—"

Around the screen, the air was filled with the scent of tea, and the

bubbling of water on a stove

be faintly heard.

Gilbert suddenly had a bad feeling.

The person who had been standing by the window turned around at the sound.

Their eyes met, and both were taken aback.

"It's you!"

It was Naylor! Gilbert couldn't helpCopyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

but smirk coldly, instantly

novel

understanding, "You used the

pretense of collaboration to lure me out?"

"Correct."

Naylor nodded, then shook his head, "I never imagined that my own son would outmaneuver me!"

At this moment, Naylor showed no displeasure at being outsmarted. Instead, he was filled with admiration.

"To have such skill at your age, impressive! You truly are Naylor's son!"

"Your son?"

Gilbert scoffed, "If I'm a bastard, then what does that make you?"

Turning on his heel, he moved to leave.

"Naylor! Why go through all this trouble? Just come back, and the entire Harrison family fortune is yours! You'll be the next financial and logistics magnate after me!"