Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change?



"

"Look," Francis started, a hint of concern in his voice that was rare for someone of his usually stoic demeanor, "Nanson's a bright kid." Younger than Edwin Morris, a whiz in the legal field handling divorce cases-it felt like an overkill.

"By the way," Rebecca White snapped back to reality, "Mr. Johnson, you've got things to do, right? Just drop me off at the next corner." "No need," Francis shook his head, his expression softening a bit. "I'm off the clock. I'll go with you."

He was heading home; she was off to work.

"...Oh."

Rebecca White nodded, a bit dazed, realizing her shoes were still in his grasp. Embarrassed, she took them back.

"Thanks, sorry for the trouble."

"Mhm."ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

Francis's gaze dropped to her feet. "The heel's broken. Your foot okay? Didn't twist it, did you?"

Rebecca White paused, hurriedly tucking her foot away, shaking her head. "No, it's fine."

"Mhm."

Francis, ever the man of few words, didn't press further.

The car fell into silence.

Rebecca White held her shoes tight, anxiously wishing they'd reach Johnson Mansion soon. Being alone with him was overwhelmingly intense.

Her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest, her palms sweaty.

The drive was silent until they arrived at Johnson Mansion.

The car stopped in front of the main building.

Rebecca White managed to slip on her shoes, wincing slightly as her feet hit the ground.

She had twisted her ankle and hadn't told Francis the truth.

Sitting down, it was bearable, but standing made the pain all too apparent. Still, she could manage to walk.

Francis, hearing the faint sound, looked back at her. "What's wrong?"

"Uh?" Rebecca White quickly shook her head. "Nothing."

"..." Francis frowned slightly, his gaze briefly passing over her ankle before he looked away.

"Come on in then."

"Ms. White!"

ne

Entering the living room, James came running over, launching himself at Rebecca White. "Ms. White, got a hundred percent on my English spelling test today!"

"Really? That's amazing!"

James held up his arms, and Rebecca White, despite the slight stumble, lifted him up.

"Yeah! Ms. White, come on! To my room!"

He was eager to show off and seek her praise.

Behind them, Francis's brow furrowed slightly.

He had seen it clearly; Rebecca White had nearly lost her balance. It was obvious her foot was hurt.

An hour later.

Rebecca White came downstairs.

The nanny had taken James to bathe, and it was time for her to leave.

Navigating the stairs was a

by

SWn

challenge with her injured ankle, grasping the rail for support, step.

Finally reaching the ground floor, she let out a sigh of relief.

"Ms. White."

Just as she steadied herself, she looked up to find Francis a few steps away, watching her intently.

Rebecca White was surprised. "Mr. Johnson?"

Did he need something?

Francis nodded towards a direction. "Come with me," he said, then turned, heading towards the couch area.

Rebecca White, puzzled and hesitant, followed. "Mr. Johnson..."

"Sit."

Francis patted the seat next to him.

Next to him? Rebecca White hesitated, shaking her head, "No, I—"

Before she could refuse, he grasped her arm and gently pulled, guiding her to sit beside him.

Rebecca White blinked in confusion.

Then, Francis bent down, reaching

for her

ankle. She looked at him

l

wide-eyed, "Mr. Johnson, what are you"

swno

The next moment, he lifted her leg, placing it gently on his lap.