Chapter 481 Only You Can Heal
Hope gently placed her hand on Elissa's shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat.
She said softly, "I understand—she's your sister. But I think Anne is smart and capable. She can take care of herself. It's okay to worry, but make sure you take care of yourself. Then, when she comes back, love her the way she deserves."
Anne had explored the entire island.
There was a helipad on the mountain with two helicopters parked nearby. A large yacht was anchored offshore.
But she couldn't operate any of them—there was no way out.
She finally decided to make the best of it. Deal with problems as they came, and if there weren't any, just roll with it.
"Ma'am, Thora is calling for you."
Back at the mansion, Quinton handed her a phone. At the mention of Thora's name, Anne took it.
"Thank God you're okay." Thora's relief was palpable, followed immediately by an apology. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have drunk so much."
"It's not your fault."
If Willard had planned to take her, Thora being sober wouldn't have made a difference.
Anne found herself comforting her instead. "You should head back to Maple Valley soon. Check out those studio locations and look at some houses. And please talk to my sister—tell her not to overthink this. I'm fine."
Thora agreed to everything. "I will."
"Take care of yourself. I'm hanging up now."
"You too."
Anne didn't bother asking how Thora's call had gotten through. Without Willard's permission, no one could reach her anyway.
How pointless.
"Ma'am, dinner is ready."
Anne headed to the dining room. She wasn't about to starve herself—there was no point in that.
Quinton followed a few steps behind, feeling compelled to defend Willard. "Ma'am, it's not that Mr. Larson wants to keep you locked up. He just doesn't know what else to do. He just wants a chance..."
Anne glanced at him. "I want a chance too. Why won't he give me one?"
Quinton immediately regretted speaking up. "Whatever chance you want, just tell him directly. He'll give you anything."
Anne could already see Willard sitting at the head of the table. Without lowering her voice, she said, "I want a chance to leave Willard."
Quinton practically vanished into thin air.
Anne sat in the chair farthest from Willard, picked up her fork, and ate in silence.
Willard moved closer, sliding dishes toward her and placing her favorites within reach. This time he didn't serve her food or pour her soup—he just arranged everything and ate his own meal.
The dining room fell silent except for the soft clink of silverware.
Anne ate quickly. When she finished, she grabbed a couple of napkins, wiped her mouth while standing, and returned to her room.
Willard set down his utensils.
Quinton suddenly appeared, concern written across his face. "Sir, you've barely been eating lately. And with your injuries, you're not resting properly either."
Willard's eyes dropped, dejected. "No one cares anyway."
Quinton was about to blurt out "We care," but seeing Willard's defeated state, he swallowed the words.
When had emotions like this—this vulnerability—ever touched their invincible, untouchable boss?
Lyndon finally contacted Francis to ask about Willard's location. He couldn't leave the country himself, but he could send someone else.
But Francis was cooking at the time, so Elissa answered the phone. He had his own reasons—he didn't want to deal with Lyndon right now.
Besides, after Elissa's talk with Hope, she'd accepted Anne's situation. There was no need to hide anything.
"Lyndon. focus on your own business. We're not getting involved with Anne's situation anymore."
Lyndon was taken aback. "You know better than anyone what Willard has done. How can we not get involved?"
"Anne is still young and hasn't had much experience with relationships. What if she gets hurt again..."
Elissa knew what he wasn't saying. "Don't worry, big brother. Anne may not have much romantic experience, but she's not naive. She knows how to handle herself."
"Is Willard blackmailing you somehow?" Lyndon asked.
"No, it's just that letting Willard keep causing trouble isn't solving anything. This needs to be handled by the people actually involved."
Lyndon didn't press further, just told Elissa not to worry and that he'd visit again when she was closer to her due date.
Elissa agreed and hung up.
She tossed the phone onto the counter and tried to hug Francis from behind, but her belly made it impossible to get close.
Francis turned off the heat and pulled her into a proper embrace, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry."
Elissa poked his chest. "What are you apologizing for? You seeing someone else?"
Francis pinched her cheek. "Under the circumstances, I have reasonable suspicion that you're trying to start a fight."
"As if." Elissa stepped out of his arms and cupped his face, squishing his cheeks. "You're the one acting guilty."
Francis caught her hands and kissed them. "Let me finish cooking and feed you first."
Elissa bumped him with her belly. "Feed me, and then what?"
Francis's Adam's apple bobbed as he gripped her waist and gently guided her out of the kitchen. "Don't distract me from cooking."
Elissa hooked her finger around his belt and blew him a kiss before skipping away happily.
Francis looked down, closed his eyes for a few seconds, then returned to the kitchen.
Soon, dinner was on the table.
Elissa actively served him soup and picked out pieces of meat for him. "Eat more—you'll need your energy. It's hard work."
Francis ate the meat she fed him, his gaze traveling down from her face and back up again, loaded with meaning.
Elissa laughed. "I meant cooking is hard work. What are you thinking about?"
Francis finished his meal quickly, then sat beside Elissa, watching and taking care of her. He didn't rush her verbally, but his actions showed his impatience.
"Eat more, or the baby will take all your nutrients and you'll be hungry. And you'll be even hungrier after some prenatal exercise."
Elissa set down her fork and wiped her mouth. "I still need to do prenatal yoga later. I can't eat too much, or I'll be uncomfortable. If I get hungry, I can have a snack."
Francis saw she was finished and immediately swept her up, carrying her to the bedroom. "Sweetheart, I know it's off-limits for now, but you can still take care of me in other ways..."
Anne had no phone, no computer—just television.
After a few days of this lifestyle, she'd had enough.
Willard had been recovering from his injuries these past few days, but because he hadn't been taking proper care of himself, they kept getting infected and he'd been running a high fever.
Anne hadn't seen Willard at dinner, but she didn't ask about him either.
Quinton watched Willard burning up with fever, the hope in his delirious eyes painfully clear. He couldn't bring himself to report the truth.
But Willard wasn't blind—he could sense whether Anne had come or not.
"Has her camera arrived?"
"Yes."
"Give it to her."
Quinton immediately went to handle it.
Anne was sitting by the shore, bored out of her mind, watching seagulls in the distance.
The island's climate was perfect—even though it was summer elsewhere, here there was a gentle spring breeze. Very comfortable.
But she didn't want to stay here forever.
"Ma'am—"
Quinton watched in horror as Anne jumped into the ocean.
Before he could reach her, another figure moved faster.
"Sir!"
Willard dove in, found Anne, and dragged her to shore.
When Anne was pulled onto the beach, she was still confused. She'd just been swimming—what was the big deal?
Quinton called for people with a stretcher, hurriedly carrying Willard back. He also called for a maid to help Anne.
Anne wiped the water from her face, pushed away the maid, and wrung out her hair. "What happened?"
Quinton was torn between rushing to check on Willard and keeping an eye on Anne, worried she might try something else if jumping in the ocean hadn't worked.
"The master was rescuing you."
"Why?" Anne was puzzled. "I wasn't drowning. What was there to rescue me from?"
Quinton was stunned. "Weren't you... trying to drown yourself?"
"Yeah. How else do you get in the water to swim?" Anne didn't notice Quinton's expression as she arranged her wet hair, eager to get back and shower and change into dry clothes.
Quinton quickly instructed the maid and rushed to Willard's room.
The doctor was treating him, and Quinton didn't dare speak. But from the doctor's expression, he knew what he wanted to say.
The wound hadn't fully healed, and now it had been exposed to seawater—it would be even harder to treat.
He'd been starting to recover from the fever, but now it was spiking again.
Quinton didn't understand why his boss was torturing himself like this.
After Anne showered and changed, she learned from the maid that Willard had thought she was trying to commit suicide, which was why he'd jumped in to save her.
She was speechless.
"Ma'am." Quinton found her. "Could you please go see the master? Just for a moment, I'm begging you."
Anne didn't want to go. She wasn't a doctor, and what could she do anyway? Would Willard magically get better just from seeing her?
"I have things to do..."
Quinton couldn't force her. When the master woke up and found out, he'd probably end up in solitary confinement.
At that moment, he thought he understood why his boss was torturing himself—he wanted to feel the same suffering Anne had once endured.
Francis, satisfied, was massaging Elissa's uncomfortable calves when his phone rang. He glanced at the number, answered, and put it on speaker before tossing it aside.
Simon didn't wait for a response and launched into his report: "Sir, Mr. Willard Larson is quite seriously ill, but the island's medical facilities are limited. The doctor they brought can't seem to help, so Mr. Louis Armstrong flew over tonight."
Francis glanced at Elissa, who had her eyes closed but whose fluttering eyelashes clearly showed she was awake.
"How did he get sick?"
Simon explained, "Apparently from trying to save Miss Anne Waverly. First he fell onto a barbecue grill and got burned, then he's been running a high fever. He hasn't been treating it properly or eating well. Just when things were getting worse, he jumped into the ocean for Miss Waverly again. The seawater made the infection much worse. He's delirious with fever now."
Francis saw Elissa struggling and patted her waist. "Stop pretending. Ask Simon whatever you want to know."
Elissa opened her eyes. Francis helped her sit up and placed soft pillows behind her back, then handed her the phone.
He sat beside her and continued the massage.
Simon was quick on the uptake. "Ma'am, from what Quinton said, Mr. Larson hasn't been treating himself properly because he wants to experience the same suffering Miss Waverly went through."
He added, "Repeated burn infections are very painful."
Elissa didn't care about Willard. Even if he was suffering now, it was too little, too late. If he hadn't acted as he did, Anne wouldn't have had to endure so much.
Besides, he'd been the one to abandon her when she needed help—he couldn't blame Anne for his current injuries.
"How is my sister?"
Simon reassured her. "Don't worry, ma'am. Miss Waverly is fine. Except for not having her freedom, there are no other restrictions."
"When can I video call her?"
Simon considered this. "While Mr. Willard is delirious, I can arrange it."
"Thank you so much."
"It's no trouble—it's what I should do."
After hanging up, Elissa looked at Francis. "What do you think?"
Francis moved the phone farther away to avoid radiation. After finishing the massage, he helped her lie down before answering, "I think the same as you."
Elissa gave him a look. "Smooth talker."
Francis smiled slightly and bent to kiss her forehead. "Sleep now."
"I'm waiting for the video call."
"Sleep first. I'll wake you tomorrow."
Elissa was indeed tired and, with Francis's gentle coaxing, soon fell asleep.
Just as Francis was about to join his wife in bed, his phone vibrated. He quickly silenced it and tiptoed out to the balcony to answer.
"Speak."
A lazy voice came through, "Sounds like you're in a good mood tonight."
Francis asked, "Do you have actual business?"
"No, just wanted to listen to you two fight."
Francis popped a mint into his mouth and chuckled softly. "Then you'll be disappointed. My wife is always rational and level-headed."
"Seriously?" Jerry teased.
Francis didn't want to waste time with him late at night and hung up directly.
He went back to hold his wife and sleep.
Jerry clicked his tongue, tossed his phone aside, and also went to hold his wife.
Hope wasn't asleep yet. "What did Francis say?"
"Nothing much." Jerry nuzzled into her neck. "Seems like Elissa has accepted it. She's pretty calm."
"Elissa is amazing. She only gets flustered when someone close to her is in trouble. Otherwise, she handles everything perfectly."
Jerry pinched her little nose. "You're amazing too. You picked up everything I taught you yesterday so quickly."
Hope stopped talking and moving, or else they'd get no sleep again tonight.
When Anne saw Louis, she realized how serious Willard's condition was. She only ever saw Louis when things were very serious.
She finally went to Willard's bedroom.
Unlike before, the room wasn't crowded with people. Only Willard lay quietly on the bed while Louis treated his wounds beside him.
She'd never seen Willard's injuries before—when the doctor had cut away his clothes last time, she'd already left.
She hadn't expected that after all these days, the wounds hadn't healed and had actually gotten worse.
"Is seawater really that bad?"
She'd been wondering aloud, but Louis heard her.
"Seawater may look clear, but it contains complex elements. Besides, with wounds like his, even tap water would cause serious problems."
"Because they were never properly treated."
Anne nodded, confused. "But with your medical skills, you can definitely cure him."
Louis wore a surgical mask, revealing only a pair of cool, alluring eyes.
His voice was equally frosty, "I can treat the body. The mind? That's yours to heal."
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