Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change?

Gilbert was genuinely stunned by how smoothly things were going. He had expected that, given Sherilyn's infatuation with him, he would have to put some effort into convincing her. But things were turning out much smoother than anticipated, which, in his book, was a good thing.

After a brief moment of surprise, Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Well then, let's get this signed, shall we?"

Sherilyn agreed, "Okay."

He passed the pen to Sherilyn.

Sherilyn read through the agreement carefully and shook her head. "I don't want the house or the money. Sylvia raised me, and I already owe the Johnson family."

Gilbert couldn't help but chuckle at her refusal. "Since you stepped into the Johnson family's home at fifteen, you've lived off us until now."

That included her years abroad for studies and all the living expenses.

Gilbert retorted, "And without the ability to support yourself, how do you plan to live?"

At that, a chill ran down Sherilyn's spine, and she clenched her fists tightly, choosing not to argue.

"Or is it..." Gilbert squinted, thinking it over, "You're refusing now so you can return and cling to me when you can't make ends meet?"

"I won't." Sherilyn's gaze hardened as she firmly denied it.

"In that case," Gilbert said with a carefree smile, "let's get this over with."

"Okay, I'll sign." Smiling faintly, Sherilyn tightly grasped the pen and signed her name on both document copies.

Finally, Gilbert seemed relieved. "I'll let you know when I've arranged a time with the town hall."

"Hmm," Sherilyn nodded without any objections.

He took the agreement and looked at Sherilyn properly for just once. "Grandma is about to have surgery. Before she recovers, we'll need to keep our divorce a secret from her. She's taken care of you for all these years. Can you play along?"

Sherilyn was surprised. He divorced her, yet he still wanted her to play along.

"Don't worry." Gilbert smirked, "You won't be at a loss. Once everything is over, I'll give you some money as compensation."

Hmph. Sherilyn let out an almost imperceptible scoff and nodded. "Okay, I understand."

"Great." After saying that, Gilbert stood up. "We might need to see each other during this time. I'll take the master bedroom, and you..." He paused, then continued, "Pick a room downstairs and clean it up." With those words, he turned and went upstairs.

Sherilyn watched him leave, her lips curling into a subtle smile.

He was making her pick a room downstairs? All the rooms downstairs were for the servants. In his eyes, she was nothing but a servant.

After a few deep breaths, Sherilyn returned to the dining room. The pasta on the table had been sitting out too long, turning mushy and cold.

Sherilyn sat down, grabbed a fork, and shoveled a big bite into her mouth. It was cold and nearly choked her. But she was so hungry, and there wasn't anything else to eat.

Just as she was about to take another bite, Gilbert suddenly burst in again. "Sherilyn!"

"Cough, cough!" Caught off guard, Sherilyn choked on her food.

"Tsk." Gilbert frowned and grimaced, glancing at the plate before her. "What on earth did you make? Is that even edible?"

"Pasta," Sherilyn managed to say after coughing, "Did you need something?"

"Pasta?"

That clumpy mess was pasta?

Gilbert scoffed, "You can't even make pasta, huh? It looks like my family did spoil you rotten."

Really? Sherilyn barely managed to hold back a sneer.

"Oh, right." Remembering why he had come, Gilbert pointed at her plate. "From now on, don't cook here. Go out to eat. The kitchen's a mess, and you've filled it with the smell of grease and smoke!" With a cold glance, he added, "Got it?"