The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 262

The housekeeper stepped up beside Laura, her voice low and a little anxious. “Did you see the news today? The police were on the scene, and a guy still went and stabbed someone in broad daylight. People these days... I swear, nobody’s even afraid of the cops anymore.”

She had no idea what had Laura so down lately. She just knew she had to be careful, because if she accidentally said the wrong thing and Laura shot her that icy look again, the one that felt like a snake coiling around her... She’d had nightmares about it for days.

She really didn’t want to lose this job. The pay was great, the work not too bad, and she’d sooner fight a bear than let someone else take it. So she’d been trying everything she could think of to keep Laura in a good mood, always on alert in case she slipped up.

She glanced quickly at Laura’s face, trying to read her mood. Seeing nothing there, she breathed a quiet sigh and said, “What if someone with a grudge tried to break in here? Good thing Franco looks after you so well, keeping you safe and sound.”

Laura gazed out at the night. Then, for the first time in ages, a little smile played across her lips. She seemed lighter, almost happy.

“You’re right. Franco really does care about me.”

Outside, Franco’s bodyguards moved with practiced precision. After stepping out of the car, they fanned out silently, never making a sound.

Later, Laura stretched out on her bed. The housekeeper turned off the bedroom lights and softly pulled the door closed behind her.

In the darkness, Laura let out a small, almost secret laugh.

Had he noticed?

…

After leaving the police station yesterday, Franco had gone straight back to the White Estate. He didn’t return to Misty Vale until the dead of night, and even then he worked in his study until two a.m.

But it didn’t matter if it was a weekday, a weekend, even a holiday. Franco always woke up right on schedule.

More than once, Galen had wandered in, baffled. “Don’t you have a wife? How do you manage it? Don’t you get tired? Who are you trying to impress, getting up at the same time every day? Are you superhuman or something?”

Franco broke his stare and walked over. His voice was calm, almost careless. “What’s all the note-taking for?”

Jackson fell in step beside him, pulling out a chair as he replied, “Petty called me this morning. She wanted some recipes for healthy soups. I’m slow with texting, so I just wrote them down. I’ll snap a photo and send it over.”

Of course. Franco’s grip tightened a little on his coffee cup. From brow to jaw, his whole face seemed carved out of stone.

He couldn’t help but remember those years when he was blind and someone else had looked after him. She cooked in the kitchen by pure guesswork, day after day, turning the White Estate into a whirlwind of chaos.

But when it came to making soup for Hans, she knew to ask for recipes.

Jackson thought he saw Franco’s expression get even darker, but he wasn’t sure.