Capturing the Young Doctor's Heart: Mr. Big Shot Won't Let Me Go-Chapter 147: Called Her All Night 1

The sunlight changes from intense to faint, and then back to intense again.

When Claire Prescott found some time to come out, the elderly figure was already gone. She didn’t know when he left.

It seemed to be the manners of a wealthy family; he hadn’t disturbed her while she was working.

She didn’t think too much about it.

She went to the counter and asked the bodyguard elder brother, "Brother Lee, did the Lowell Family come looking for me just now? Did you see them?"

As soon as she spoke, both Brother Lee and Tiger looked at her with somewhat complex expressions.

Tiger wanted to speak but stopped himself, instinctively glancing at Brother Lee before pretending to be busy with something.

Brother Lee was silent for two seconds before responding, "Yes."

"Then was she Keane Lowell’s grandmother?" Claire Prescott guessed.

"Yes."

"Did she say what she wanted with me?"

The bodyguard shook his head, "Not sure."

Claire Prescott slowly lowered her gaze, contemplating as she turned and returned to the clinic.

Recalling the elderly lady’s gaze upon her, she felt something was amiss. Yet, the lady hadn’t uttered a word, and she couldn’t begin speculating based solely on a look.

Nighttime.

After dinner and accompanying her grandmother for a walk in the alley.

The summer night’s breeze felt comfortable against her skin, but she forgot to apply mosquito repellent before stepping out, and mosquitoes kept buzzing around her, leaving several bites on her exposed arms.

She encountered two young girls playing in the alley.

One of the girls gasped upon seeing her, covering her mouth, "Wow~, sister, you have fireflies on your head; they look so pretty."

Claire Prescott’s expression slightly changed as she raised her hand to grab them but timidly pleaded with her grandmother, "Grandma, please help me chase them away."

Having skin that attracts insects, she has always disliked bugs crawling over her.

Septima leisurely searched for the firefly’s trace and gradually discovered it resting on her hairpin, silently glowing.

With a gentle wave of her wrinkled hand, the firefly flew away, and the two girls then chased after it.

"Not afraid of centipedes, but scared of a firefly," Septima looked at her with indulgence.

"As long as they’re not on me, I’m not scared."

Noticing several bites on her arm, Septima furrowed her brow, stopped walking forward, and told her to go home, sighing, "Delicate skin, if you get married in the future, you’ll have to be cherished."

...

Once home, Claire Prescott took some ointment upstairs.

After applying it and doing some bookwork, the downstairs lights were quietly turned off. The two elders would go to sleep every night at around nine, maintaining a very regular schedule.

She then found her pajamas and went into the bathroom.

At ten o’clock.

Claire Prescott, as usual, sent a message to Keane Lowell on days she couldn’t see him: [Go to bed early, goodnight, kiss.jpg]

Quickly, a message came back from his end: [Come out.]

Claire Prescott paused, and understanding his meaning, she quickly suppressed her eager emotions, quietly went downstairs, and rushed outside.

As the car headlights flashed over her, she instinctively wrapped her chest with her arms, watching as the Maybach stopped in front of her, and the man stepped down from the back seat.

As soon as the door opened, Claire Prescott threw herself into his embrace.

A strong scent of alcohol filled her nostrils as she gazed up at him, "Did you drink?"

"Yes, had a gathering tonight."

"Had quite a bit to drink."

Keane Lowell leaned over, wanting to lift her, but Claire Prescott stopped him, "Wait for me, I haven’t closed my house door yet."

Keane Lowell released her.

After she closed her home’s door, they both got into the car, one behind the other.

"Partition, drive slowly," the man’s voice sounded.

Perhaps because of the alcohol, his low voice had a slightly buoyant feeling.

The driver in front listened to the order.

The raised partition divided the car into two spaces. Claire Prescott sat in his lap, her whole body enclosed in his arms, his body warm, as though the weight of his arms pressed upon her.

She looked at those eyes, made hazy and deep by the alcohol, "Drunk or not drunk?"

"A bit."

Claire Prescott wanted to get up and return to her seat but was pushed back, "Where are you going?"

His muscular arm inadvertently crossed her chest, pressing against her through the thin fabric.

Claire Prescott then dared not move, and unexpectedly, he bluntly asked,

"Not wearing a bra?"

Claire Prescott’s face flushed, burying herself into his shoulder, softly saying, "I was just about to sleep."

Keane Lowell warmly and deeply said, "Hmm, sleep with me tonight."

Claire Prescott couldn’t bear it, lifting his hand from her chest to move it below, comfortably settling against him.

Perhaps because of the alcohol, Keane Lowell fell asleep in the car, holding her without moving.

As she exited the car, she had to help carry him upstairs with the driver.

After settling him onto the bed, the driver silently left.

Claire Prescott entered the bathroom and took a warm towel to wipe his face, her movements exceptionally careful. Upon reaching his neck, she hesitated, skillfully unfastening with one hand.

She originally felt something was amiss.

While wiping his neck, her hand was suddenly held by him.

Half-asleep, the man mumbled, calling for Claire.

"I’m here," Claire Prescott responded.

Her gentle voice entered his ear.

Keane Lowell tightly clutched her hand, his brows furrowing.

Claire Prescott soothingly smoothed out the crease in his brow, bending down to briefly kiss his lips.

Just as she was about to pull away, a large hand suddenly clasped the back of her head, and Keane Lowell hastily kissed her, bringing her along as they rolled over on the bed.

The man’s heavy body pressed down on hers, his breathing yet to stabilize, sealing her tender lips with passionate and fiery kisses.

"Claire..."

He called her name more than once, each time seemingly conveying different meanings.

Like a whisper of love, carrying a deadly seduction, her heart seemed to be captivated by him entirely.

Soon, he pulled her body into a tight embrace, his mature and robust frame securely enveloping her, leaving no room for escape.

In the quiet of the night, she heard his murmurs, "No matter what happens, we won’t part, okay?"

For the first time, she sensed the feeling of anxiety from him.

Claire Prescott couldn’t help but think further.

Initially, her father disapproved of her being with Keane Lowell because of the enmity between the two families. Her family accepted Keane Lowell, but she never considered, nor did she perceive, a very crucial issue.

Maddie liked her, but that doesn’t mean The Lancasters as a whole could accept her.

The fact that Old Mrs. Lowell came to find her today—does it mean she already knows about her relationship with Keane Lowell and wants to impede their progress?

So, while it’s known the Prescott Family and The Lowell Family are rival families, the reason The Lowell Family targets her family doesn’t seem to have ever been answered.

"Claire."

Claire Prescott hugged him tighter, soothing, "Yes, we won’t separate."

It seemed that the man was hiding something from her. Since he didn’t want her to know, she would just pretend not to know for the time being.