Mr. CEO, You Look Strangely Familiar-Chapter 95 - 93: For Some Reason, It Started to Rain in His Eyes (Part 2)

Chapter 95: Chapter 93: For Some Reason, It Started to Rain in His Eyes (Part 2)

The first person she called was Quentin Grant. She dialed twice, but no one answered. The third time, the call was clearly rejected.

With almost no hesitation, she dialed Leon Lynch’s number.

When the call connected, she could no longer control her emotions and screamed, breaking down completely.

"Leon!"

Leon Lynch was just finishing his meal. Hearing her voice, he shot to his feet. "Nora, what’s wrong?"

"Leon! Help me! Help me! Please, help me!" Her hand could barely grip the phone, trembling so hard it felt like it would fall.

"Where are you?! Tell me. Don’t panic."

"I’m at—" She looked around. "I’m at the East Gate! Hurry! The car is out of control, and I’m trapped inside— Help me! AAAAAAHHH!!"

Leon Lynch bolted out of the Lynch Family home.

Mrs. Lynch shouted from behind him, "Leon! Where are you going!"

But he was running too fast to answer.

His car roared to life and shot off like a rocket.

Even though he was speeding, it would still take a while to get to the East Gate.

Meanwhile, Nora Ainsworth’s car was gradually picking up speed. Her heart pounded in terror as she watched herself trapped in the automated vehicle. The feeling of helplessness was worse than death.

The car turned onto a tree-lined lane. Just then, a horn blared from up ahead, and headlights flared with a blinding light.

Nora Ainsworth felt the car lurch forward as if it were flying. Her eyes widened as she watched her car collide with the one approaching.

In an instant—

A gut-wrenching pain and searing heat ripped through her body.

A blood-curdling scream came from the other car. Nora didn’t make a sound, watching as flames erupted from the front of her vehicle. The car quickly rolled onto its side, the sound of shattering glass filling her ears. Both vehicles were mangled beyond recognition.

Fortunately—

She hadn’t lost consciousness.

Soon, the wail of police sirens and ambulances assaulted her eardrums. Pinned inside the car, she was still breathing but couldn’t speak, her eyes staring wide open.

Amid the bustling crowd of first responders, no one came to lift the car and pull her out.

’They seem so busy, so busy... maybe they’re busy saving the people in the other car...’

’It makes sense. If it weren’t for my car, the other one wouldn’t have met with such a disaster...’

After what felt like an eternity, just as Nora Ainsworth felt she couldn’t hold on any longer, the wreckage was finally cleared. She was unceremoniously dragged out.

But then, she was forced into a large container.

So when Leon Lynch’s frantic shouts echoed nearby, she wanted to tell him she was right there. ’I’m here! I’m right here!’ But then his voice suddenly stopped. ’Leon? Leon Lynch, did you leave?’

Quentin Grant had been talking with Mrs. Grant. They were at a critical point in their conversation, with his mother in tears, when his phone rang again and again.

He had no choice but to reject the call.

As he was walking to the entrance of the Grant Residence, his phone rang once more. This time, it was the police and paramedics.

Hearing that Catherine had been in a serious car accident, he didn’t think twice and went straight to the scene.

The gruesome sight before him made Quentin Grant’s heart clench. Innocent memories from their past flooded his mind.

Recalling his mother’s words, Quentin quickened his pace toward the woman on the stretcher.

His mind went blank, his lips trembling. "Catherine? Catherine! CATHERINE!!!"

His panicked expression was a far cry from his usual noble, calm demeanor. "Doctor, you have to save her!"

The doctor, feeling immense pressure, nodded repeatedly. "Mr. Grant, please calm down. We need to get back to the hospital immediately. The patient’s vitals are unstable. It’s worse than we thought; she might not make it."

Quentin Grant looked like a wrathful Asura from the darkest night. "What do you mean she might not make it? What are you standing around for?! Get her to the hospital!"

He followed the stretcher into the ambulance, tightly gripping her blood-stained hand. "Catherine, wake up."

"Quen—tin—" Blood was steadily streaming from her mouth, trickling down her jaw.

"I’m here. I’m right here!"

"Please—please hold me... Even if—I die—I want to—die in—your arms!"

Her eyes could barely open. Quentin Grant cradled her head, his voice filled with conviction. "You won’t. I won’t let you die!"

She raised a trembling hand. "Quentin, how—how badly is Nora hurt?"

A grim shadow fell over Quentin Grant’s face. "Nora Ainsworth?"

She gave a faint, bitter smile. "She gave Warner a rabies shot once... The other day, he started acting frantic, so I called out to him, but he suddenly lunged at Nora. I—I couldn’t stop him... and she’s held a grudge ever since. Tonight, Nora messaged me, asking to meet. I never—expected... that she would drive her car straight—at me. She wants me dead. I’m really—not a threat to her... Quentin, I just want to be by your side. Can you tell her that? Please tell her I won’t take her place."

Quentin Grant’s hand tightened. The shock that flickered across his face did not escape Catherine Callahan’s notice.

’Is she really that scheming of a woman?’

"What ’place’ could she possibly have? She’s just a woman," he said, his voice strained, as if he were trying to convince himself.

"Don’t—don’t blame her... I know... she just loves you too much. Quentin, even if I die now, I have no regrets... At least I know I’m in your arms—"

She coughed up a mouthful of blood and closed her eyes.

"Catherine? Catherine!" Quentin Grant’s hand was stained with her blood. The vivid red instantly reminded him of the question Nora Ainsworth had asked him last night. ’Is she really involved in this?’

Nora Ainsworth forced her eyes open, her consciousness fading. She was also in this ambulance, but stuffed inside the large container.

She had been loaded onto the ambulance before they even put Catherine on a stretcher.

With her eyes wide open, she listened to Catherine Callahan’s words, desperately wanting to defend herself.

Her personality would never allow her to be framed so unjustly.

How she wanted to shout righteously at Quentin Grant: ’You think *I* did this? As if! I’ve been dying to get away from you! When the hell did I ever fall in love with you? Do you really think I’m capable of orchestrating something this elaborate, that I have the power to bribe the police and the paramedics?!’

But a terrible truth flickered in what remained of her consciousness: this was no accident. It was a premeditated plot.

She desperately wanted to scream these thoughts aloud, but no sound would come out.

Nora Ainsworth thought, ’That woman must be my mortal enemy. First a fractured leg, and now I’m about to lose my life? And I’m supposed to just die taking the fall for this?’