Mr. CEO, You Look Strangely Familiar-Chapter 97 - 95: Don’t Get Angry at Night, You’ll Get Prostatitis

Chapter 97: Chapter 95: Don’t Get Angry at Night, You’ll Get Prostatitis

A cold smile touched his lips as he said cruelly, "If the police find out your hospital risked someone’s life to fake a scene, I wonder—would this place get shut down? Would you all go straight to prison for a decade or two?"

The doctors were instantly dumbfounded. The scalpels fell from their hands, clattering sharply against the floor.

Catherine Callahan, who had been playing dead on the operating table, abruptly sat up.

Her expression was lucid, without the slightest hint of injury.

"Young Master Grant, it was Miss Callahan who told us to do this! We’re innocent." The doctor believed Quentin Grant was fully capable of shutting down the hospital and sending them all to prison.

Without giving Catherine Callahan a single glance, he turned and walked over to Nora Ainsworth’s operating table.

"Get her through this, completely unharmed, and I’ll consider letting you all off the hook."

"Yes, yes, of course! Please rest assured, Young Master Grant. Miss Ainsworth is incredibly lucky. During the crash, she likely used one hand to shield her heart and the other to protect the back of her head. As a result, those two potentially fatal areas are uninjured. It’s her hands that are severely hurt; the rest of her injuries are actually quite minor."

He stood there, watching her. Her lips were pale, her eyes closed as if she might never wake again. A dull, intense ache flared up somewhere inside him. Her hands, covered in blood, dangled over the edge of the operating table.

"Save her. I’ll be watching right here."

He spoke after a moment’s pause.

The doctors began bandaging her, each of them exceptionally careful, not daring to make a single rough move.

Catherine Callahan sat on another hospital bed, her once-lucid eyes now vacant. ’So this is how it ends.’ She hadn’t managed to leave Nora Ainsworth half-dead; instead, she had revealed a side of herself to Quentin Grant that he had never known.

Nora Ainsworth was still unconscious. Quentin Grant picked her up and carried her out of the operating room.

Catherine Callahan watched as he left, not once looking back at her from beginning to end.

The feeling was worse than being stabbed.

At that moment, she was overcome with the urge to become Nora Ainsworth. ’If I were the one who was truly injured, he might never have discovered any of this. Wouldn’t I have been the winner then?’

But there were no ’what ifs’.

Quentin Grant settled her into the passenger seat, then got into the driver’s side and called the director of the General Hospital. "This is Quentin Grant. I have a patient at my home who just got out of surgery for a car accident. I need you to send someone to my private villa now to set up an IV drip."

The director didn’t hesitate for a second. "Of course, Mr. Grant. Rest assured, we’ll be there within twenty minutes."

He ended the call and gently leaned Nora Ainsworth’s head against his shoulder. Looking down at her, he saw that her usual mischievous smile was gone, as was her vibrant energy. She looked as though she were merely asleep.

He couldn’t use his right hand to turn the key; if he did, her head would slip from his shoulder.

He reached out with his left hand and turned the key. The car moved slowly; in fact, the team from the hospital had already been waiting at the entrance to the Grant Residence for several minutes by the time Quentin Grant’s car pulled up.

He carried her into his bedroom. The doctors followed, ready to set up her IV.

Quentin Grant stood to one side. Just as the doctor was about to insert the needle, he blurted out, "Be gentle."

The doctor nodded in trepidation. "Of course."

Perhaps the anesthesia was wearing off, or maybe Nora Ainsworth was on the verge of waking up, but as the doctor inserted the needle, Quentin Grant saw her brow furrow slightly.

"I told you to be gentle, didn’t I?! Are you deaf?!"

The sudden roar made the doctor’s hand tremble, forcing him to start over.

Once the IV was in, the doctor didn’t even dare to lift his head. "Mr. Grant, you’ll need to be very careful with her diet when she wakes up. Nothing spicy, sour, salty, raw, or cold. She’ll also need to be on bed rest for at least ten days before she can get up."

"Mm."

Only then did the doctors leave.

His mood gradually calmed. He stood before the bed and murmured, "You’d better wake up soon. Otherwise, I’ll add another three years to your time by my side."

There was no response.

He turned and walked to the balcony. Outside, it had begun to rain.

Quentin Grant pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag.

The smoke vanished into the fine rain. He stood there like a statue for a long time.

A familiar vibration sounded again. He was about to reject the call when he saw it was from Chloe Marshall.

"Nora, are you moving in with me tonight?"

Quentin Grant answered, "Why would she be moving in with you?"

Chloe Marshall was so startled she nearly bit her tongue.

"I-It’s... Young Master Grant? Where’s Nora?"

"Answer my question." He tossed the cigarette butt away, a hint of annoyance in his expression.

"It’s—it’s because Nora said she had a feeling you were... you were going to throw her out. So, she said that if you kicked her out tonight, she’d stay with me for the time being."

Quentin Grant fell silent. Just as Chloe Marshall thought he had hung up, he said, "She won’t be coming. Good night."

Chloe Marshall hung up and looked at her phone again. A wave of happiness washed over her. ’Young Master Grant’s words clearly mean he isn’t kicking Nora out after all.’

"Boss Ellsworth!" she said, jogging over to Ethan Ellsworth. "I’m heading home now."

Ethan Ellsworth glanced at her. "It’s pitch black out. I’ll give you a ride. If you run into some creep, an idiot like you wouldn’t even know where to go to cry about it."

A wide smile bloomed on Chloe Marshall’s face. "Okay! Thanks, Boss Ellsworth."

Ethan Ellsworth pulled out his keys and headed for the door, with her following behind.

Just as they were about to get in the car, they happened to run into some acquaintances.

"Ethan Ellsworth!"

Turning around, they saw Jean Grant helping a drunk Marlon Marshall out of the hotel entrance, rushing toward them.

"Ethan Ellsworth, could you do me a favor and take him home? I didn’t drive."

A smirk played on Ethan Ellsworth’s lips. "Call me ’Ellsworth’ and I’ll consider it."

Jean Grant looked him in the eye and said bluntly, "What, will your mouth grow hemorrhoids if you go five seconds without trying to take advantage of me?"

Ethan Ellsworth threw up his hands. "Well, if you’re not willing, you can’t blame me. I was just about to drive my employee home."

Seeing him turn to leave, Jean Grant glanced around. There were no taxis in sight, and the rain was starting to come down harder. Left with no other choice, she called out, "Ellsworth." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Ethan Ellsworth pulled open the car door. "That’s more like it. Get in."

Chloe Marshall sat in the passenger seat, while Jean Grant and Marlon Marshall sat in the back.

The car drove down the street, and no one inside spoke.

Chloe Marshall glanced at Ethan Ellsworth and noticed him glancing, intentionally or not, at the rearview mirror.

She turned to look at the back seat and saw Marlon Marshall lying with his head on Jean Grant’s lap. Jean’s expression was calm, but Chloe noticed that Ethan Ellsworth’s face had darkened considerably.

In Chloe Marshall’s mind, when Ethan Ellsworth wasn’t losing his temper, he was the very picture of cheerfulness.

But once he got angry, he was like a raging bull.

It was a little scary.

She quickly turned her head to look out the window.

They arrived at her place first. Before getting out of the car, Chloe Marshall said to Ethan Ellsworth, "Boss Ellsworth, you shouldn’t get angry at night. It’s bad for your prostate."