บททั้งหมดของ Babysitting The CEO's Daughter : บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

Xavier's POVThe drive to Millbrook took exactly three hours and seventeen minutes—I know because I checked my watch obsessively, as if keeping track of time could somehow prepare me for what I might find. The address Honey had given me led to a small town that looked like something from a postcard, all tree-lined streets and quaint storefronts that probably hadn't changed much since the 1950s.I'd followed Honey's instructions and called the number on the card first. A gruff voice had answered with just "Yeah?" and when I'd explained who I was looking for, there had been a long pause before he'd said, "You sure you want to do this, buddy? Some stones are better left unturned."But I'd insisted, and now here I was, pulling up to a modest two-story house with white siding and a wraparound porch that should have looked welcoming but somehow felt ominous in the late afternoon light.I sat in my car for a moment, trying to calm the racing of my heart. What if she refused to see me? What i

Xavier's POV It's difficult to explain this feeling that's deeper than nostalgia. How much she reminds me of Loise, how often the memories of the both of them overlaps. It's so consistent to the extent that uts vexing. Hpw did I not notice this when for 6 years and now that she's been missing for three days, everything suddenly makes sense. I need to find her, bring her back to my side and then question her, because she seems to be the only one that has the answers I am looking for. Maybe she'll, maybe she won't understand why I'm looking for someone who beared her name. Maybe she'll even find it hilarious that I'm asking her questions about a dead woman. Maybe, maybe not. And that probability that she might hold the key to my answers is why I can't stop. "Boss," I got a knock on the front of my office door and jumped to my feet. "Whats the update?" I asked Xavier's POV It's difficult to explain this feeling that's deeper than nostalgia. How much she reminds me of Loise, h

The Money GrubberFletcher's POVFletcher watched from his office window as Nicole crossed the lobby below, an envelope clutched in her hand. The same kind of envelope Margaret used for petty cash disbursements and overtime payments. The same kind of envelope he'd seen Nicole accept at least three times in the past month.He'd tried to tell himself it was none of his business. She worked hard, stayed late, took on extra projects without complaint. If she needed the overtime pay, that was her right as an employee. But something about the way she handled that envelope, the mixture of relief and shame that crossed her face when she thought no one was watching, made his chest tighten with an emotion he didn't want to name.Or maybe it was something else entirely. Maybe it was the way his mother's words kept echoing in his head from their conversation two nights ago."She took the money, Xavier. Every penny I offered her. Do you know what that tells me about her character?"Fletcher had wa

Eloise's ObservationsEloise's POVEloise had learned a long time ago that grown ups didn't always tell the truth. Not the way kids lied about eating cookies before dinner or breaking vases, but in bigger, quieter ways. They smiled when they were sad. They said everything was fine when it wasn't. They pretended not to notice things that were right in front of them.That's why Eloise had gotten really good at noticing things herself.Like how Mrs. Patterson, the head housekeeper, always smiled really big when Nicole was around. Her teeth showed and everything, the way Daddy said you should smile when you wanted people to think you were happy. But when Nicole left the room, Mrs. Patterson's smile disappeared so fast it was like turning off a light switch. And then she would whisper to Maria, the other housekeeper, things that made both of them look at Nicole's back with scrunched up faces.Eloise didn't like Mrs. Patterson very much anymore.She was sitting in the breakfast nook now, e

Loise’s POVThat was the last time I had piece, becaise aking up let to me recieving the news that I had to be hospitalised emergencya nd I could have easily died if i didn’t get a disganosis immeiately. “I’msorry, BUt i need to return to the library. My group members and istill haven’t found all of the issues talkless of the solution. The deadline is in just a few hours time,” I pleaded ith teh nurse as I tried remobvgn he drip atatched to the back of y hand. She was degfinitely a registered nurse from the stern gaze she cast at me, The urgency in her eyesa dn ipatience rivaled that of the practicing student in teh ambulance later. I dropped my hadn to the side, not able to cross any boundaries becausse i fearedwhat she would od if I removed the needle without ermission.“Before you do that,” she dropped the tray on her side to the metal trolley and focused her full attention on me, “for how long do you think you’ve slept for?” she asked and I quezed my eyebrows wondwering whys uc