Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change? novel Chapter 353

Chapter 353 

It was way past midnight. 

Except for Sylvia, who had tapped out early due to exhaustion and was sent back to her room by the Harrison brothers, everyone was gathered in the living room, anxiously waiting for 

news. 

Finally, it was Sawyer who burst in with an update. “We found the driver!” 

At that, Gilbert leaped to his feet. “Where?” 

“Our guys are already on their way there,” Sawyer replied. 

“Lead the way!” 

“Right.” 

Gilbert turned and headed for the door. 

“Caroline.” 

Francis turned to Caroline, who looked stunned. “What’s up?” 

He said, “We’re going too.” 

What? Caroline’s face soured instantly, though it was hard to tell under the dim lights. “Us? But, your health…” 

“I’m fine.” 

Francis waved off her concern, adamant, “Sherilyn’s my sister.” 

How could he just sit around when his sister was missing? 

He glanced at Caroline, frowning, “If you don’t want to come, stay here.” 

Caroline was taken aback, forcing a smile. “What are you talking about? Do you think I’m not worried about Sherilyn?” 

As if! 

She couldn’t let herself stay behind. At the very least, she could keep an eye on him. 

Suppressing her irritation, Caroline steadied the wheelchair. “I’m worried about you, too. If we’re going, we’ll go together.” 

“Alright.” 

As they stepped outside, it was no surprise to Gilbert to see the sleek silver Pagani still there. Edgar hadn’t left yet? 

Too bad, if he wanted to follow, let him. 

A convoy of cars sped off into the night, with Edgar gripping the steering wheel tightly, his 

115 

1. no. 

Chapter 353 

leg throbbing with a pain that seemed to grow worse. 

*** 

Snow was falling heavily, blanketing everything in sight. 

They arrived at a decrepit industrial area, low buildings as far as the eye could see, the air thick with a damp, musty odor. 

Inside one of the low–rise buildings, the floor was bare concrete, and the roof was strung with thick copper wire, holding a single incandescent bulb that cast a dim, orange glow. 

The setting was unnervingly irritating. 

In the center of the room, a man with a buzz cut, probably in his forties, was being held down by several burly men. 

“Ah…” The buzz–cut thug yawned, tears streaming down his face. “What do you guys want? It’s late, and I wanna sleep.” 

Gilbert was the first to step forward, his eyes immediately locking onto the buzz–cut thug. 

Leaning forward on a table, his gaze was sharp as nails. “Where is my wife?” 

“Huh?” The thug looked confused. “Who’s your wife?” 

“Charles!”