<b>Chapter </b><b>362</b>


    Francis nced out the window as the car moved slowly through the bustling city streets. A familiar figure caught his eye. Reba was attempting to catch the bus, but the crowd was overwhelming, and she missed it<b>, </b>pushed aside by the rushing passengers.


    Time passed by with one second, two seconds.


    “Sawyer,” Francis said quietly.


    “Over there,” he instructed.


    “Got it,” Sawyer replied, maneuvering the car to stop before Reba. He rolled down the window. “Miss White, hop in. Mr. Francis insists on giving you a ride.”


    “Oh, I’m good. That’s…” Reba stuttered, tucking her hair back and giving an awkwardugh. “I appreciate it, Mr. Francis, but I can’t impose.”


    “I’m not your messenger boy,” Sawyer quipped, gesturing toward the back seat. “If you want to thank him, do it in person.”


    Wait, what? Reba was stunned, realizing she had no choice but to get in.


    “Hurry, please,” Sawyer urged. “We’re parked in a busne. We can’t stay here. Mr. Francis is only trying to be nice. Do you want him to get a ticket?”


    Reba was somehow persuaded by the logic, albeit reluctantly, and climbed into the car.


    Once the car was back in motion, Reba felt out of ce, her difort palpable in the silence that enveloped the space. Francis sat quietly beside her, his presence undeniable and impossible to ignore.


    Reba tried to rx, feeling her back sweating. What then?


    “Where to?” Francis suddenly asked, turning toward her.


    “Uh,” Reba started, caught off guard, “Maple… Street”


    “Okay,” Francis nodded, then directed Sawyer, “You got that?”


    Sawyer nodded, “Got it, Mr. Francis.”


    With a slight recline in his seat, Francis allowed the car to return to its quiet state.


    Reba sat rigidly, like a schoolchild, afraid to make a move until they finally arrived.


    As the car stopped, Reba wasted no time in expressing her gratitude. “I’m here. Thank you for the ride.”


    She quickly opened the door and dashed into her apartmentplex.


    Francis watched her vanish, his eyes lingering on the worn–out gate of her building.


    ‘She lives here? In such a rundown ce?‘ He thought.


    1/2


    12:17


    Chapter 362


    It crossed his mind that her financial situation might not be the best, but the thought was


    fleeting as he instructed, “Let’s go.”


    At Golden Oak Manor, Gilbert carefully carried Sherilyn from the car in the garage to the master bedroom,ying her gently on the bed.


    “You’re running a fever.” He had felt her forehead on the drive home. It was still hot. “I’ll callText ? by N0ve/lDrama.Org.


    the doctor…”


    “No!” Sherilyn protested, grabbing his hand. “I don’t want medicine.”


    “Listen to me,” Gilbert coaxed. “Let the doctor have a look. You might not need medicine, but I can’t just let you be if it’s serious.”


    After grabbing his phone, he called their family doctor and dialed the housekeeper to make some nutritious food.


    Soon enough, the family doctor arrived. After examining Sherilyn, the doctor reported, “It’s a mild fever, probably from catching a chill. The cut on her hand isn’t deep. No stitches are needed. I’ve cleaned and dressed it. Just make sure it stays dry. Also…” He hesitated, ncing at Gilbert. “It’s a bit delicate. Mr. Johnson, considering she’s a woman and naturally less robust than a man, perhaps be gentler, um, in bed, if you understand my meaning.” Sweating, the doctor found the conversation ufortable but necessary.


    From his medical bag, he retrieved a tube of cream. “This, Mr. Johnson, please apply it for


    her.”


    Gilbert was stunned. Was it what he thought it meant?