Mr. CEO, You Look Strangely Familiar-Chapter 96 - 94: His Eyes Started to Rain for Some Reason (Part 3)

Chapter 96: Chapter 94: His Eyes Started to Rain for Some Reason (Part 3)

A shimmering tear clung to the corner of her eye, threatening to fall. Her eyelids slowly drifted shut. She couldn’t hold on any longer and passed out—

The phone on her chest vibrated incessantly. It was Leon Lynch, calling again and again like a madman.

Nora Ainsworth had previously disabled her phone’s location tracking.

So, no matter how many times Leon Lynch tried to find her location, he couldn’t.

He had feared Nora Ainsworth was in the car crash he’d heard about, but he was told it was just a film set and they had already wrapped for the day.

He had searched the entire East Gate at least ten times without finding any trace of Nora Ainsworth. His calls went through, but no one ever picked up.

’If only she would just answer the phone,’ he thought. ’I’d do anything. If I could just hear her voice, that would be enough.’

*

At the hospital, Catherine Callahan was wheeled into an operating room.

Immediately after, Nora Ainsworth was lifted out of a box and placed on a stretcher.

As she was being pushed toward the operating room, they passed Quentin Grant. He raised a hand, and the stretcher stopped.

His gaze drifted to her small, pale face, also stained with blood. He suddenly walked to her side, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek.

No one knew, in that moment, how much he was struggling to control his emotions as his trembling hand rested on her still-warm face.

His eyes, filled with an indifferent chill, turned to a nearby nurse. "You put her in a box?"

The nurse was flustered by his gaze, which seemed to pierce right through her. "It’s because the other patient was already on the stretcher, and there weren’t any more—"

"BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ—" The phone started vibrating again.

His gaze fell to her chest. He reached out, slipping his hand inside her clothing.

The faces of several nurses instantly turned as red as a baboon’s ass. They turned their heads away, not daring to look.

When his hand emerged, a phone was lying in his palm.

His gaze fell on the caller ID. He registered the name, then dismissed it.

The thin mist of emotion in Quentin Grant’s eyes cleared, leaving only a faint coolness. "Listen carefully. You must save her. Even if she’s disabled, even if she’s half-dead in a vegetative state, I want her alive."

The nurses didn’t dare say more. They nodded quickly and hurried into the operating room.

The doors closed, and the light overhead flicked on.

He stood there alone, silently awaiting the outcome of two surgeries.

It was an excruciatingly long wait. This was a situation he could never have imagined.

The phone was still ringing incessantly. Quentin Grant finally swiped to answer.

"Nora, tell me where you are, quick! Listen to me, it’s possible someone tampered with the car, that they messed with the brakes! Just keep the steering wheel steady, I’ll come get you! I’ve searched the entire East Gate over a dozen times and I can’t find you. Where are you right now? I’ll come save you, don’t be afraid! Just tell me where you are, and I’ll be there right away." Leon Lynch’s voice was choked with emotion.

The phone slipped from Quentin Grant’s hand, crashing to the floor. The battery popped out.

’She called me, again and again, and I just hung up on her. She must have been so scared, so panicked, at that moment.’

He bent down, a great effort, and picked up the phone.

He turned it on. Seeing the outgoing call log, tears inexplicably streamed from his eyes.

The log showed several calls in a row to his number. Then, only seconds later, a final call was made to Leon Lynch.

And that single call had connected.

He opened her text messages and found one from his number.

The message read: "Come to Lips in Motion."

The timestamp was 6:13, but Nora Ainsworth had called him twenty minutes later.

Crucially, he had never sent her that message.

This was enough to prove that someone had used his name to lure her out.

Someone was trying to harm her.

’How could it be such a coincidence that she hit Catherine’s car?’

’What was Catherine even doing at the East Gate?’

His eyes darkened. He turned and left the hospital.

Quentin Grant went straight to the police station. But when he brought up the car crash at the East Gate, the police seemed surprised. "Young Master Grant, are you mistaken? There haven’t been any reports of a car accident today. The station hasn’t received any calls about an incident at the East Gate."

Quentin Grant remained impassive. "What do you mean? I was passing the East Gate and saw two cars collide. I clearly saw how horrific the scene was. How can you say there was no such incident?"

"Ah, you’re talking about the film shoot," the officer said, realization dawning. "Someone made special arrangements for that. They said they were filming a scene at the East Gate using only a single high-angle camera, no director needed. They told us they wanted to shoot a realistic scene of an accidental car crash for a TV show."

A cruel smile spread across Quentin Grant’s lips. "Can I see the surveillance footage?"

The officer nodded. "Of course. That footage... I watched it myself, and I have to say, that film crew is incredibly professional. It’s shockingly realistic, just like a real car crash."

Quentin Grant sat in the surveillance room, watching the feeds on the screen.

Several tall men who looked like crew members drove a car to a spot about ten meters away. Catherine Callahan, wearing protective gear including a helmet and body armor, got into the car and waited for about ten minutes.

The tall men hid themselves. A car came rushing over at high speed. The side-view camera clearly showed the face of the driver—it was Nora Ainsworth.

She was desperately wrenching the steering wheel, but to no avail. Catherine Callahan’s car also started moving slowly, heading toward her. At the very instant of impact, Catherine rolled out of the unlatched car door.

The now-empty vehicle and the car carrying Nora Ainsworth crashed into each other. The scene was horrific.

Quentin Grant sat frozen. Once again, tears streamed from his eyes, their fall sending a tremor through his heart.

As the footage continued, men helped Catherine Callahan to her feet. They removed her protective gear, then dabbed pig’s blood over her head and body until she was disguised as a gravely injured patient on a stretcher.

But as for Nora Ainsworth’s car, no one went to rescue her immediately.

Finally, after a long delay, a few men extracted her from the wreckage, but only to put her directly into a box until the ambulance arrived.

A significant amount of time had passed.

"Young Master... Grant? Are you—" Several of the officers looked stunned.

Quentin Grant stood up. "This is quite an impressive film set. Anyone who didn’t know better would truly think it was a real accident."

"Yes, we all thought it looked very real. If it hadn’t been reported in advance, we definitely would have dispatched officers."

Quentin Grant walked out of the police station.

He returned to the hospital.

The light above the operating room was still on.

He shoved the doors open and strode inside.

The surgeons operating on Nora Ainsworth were instantly flustered. "Mr. Grant, you can’t just enter an active operating room. Please step outside."