Sweet Wife So Charming: CEO: Hold Back Your Heart-Chapter 345: Truck

Moira Young struggled to lift her face, trying to find traces of Fiona Rhodes lying, but all she could see in Fiona’s expression was sarcasm towards her, nothing more.

This was when fear crept in, and the confusion in her eyes greatly amused Fiona, who wasn’t in a hurry to let go of Moira. Instead, she looked down at her with the demeanor of a victor.

Seeing that Moira still seemed incredulous, Fiona sneered and took out the phone from Moira’s pocket to dial Julian Sinclair’s number.

Moira thought Julian wouldn’t answer, but to her surprise, things turned out differently.

The call actually connected.

A familiar voice came from the other end: "Hello?"

"Uncle, it’s me, where are you?" Moira, disregarding Julian’s cold tone, urgently wanted to know about him.

But Julian was evidently impatient: "Where I am has nothing to do with you."

"Uncle??" Moira was startled, seemingly not expecting him to say that.

"Don’t call me again. I’m busy." The cold voice, accompanied by the busy signal in the phone, caught Moira off guard.

Her face grew increasingly pale, her entire body frozen in place, unable to move as Fiona pinned her to the ground.

Seeing her so lost and forlorn, Fiona felt even more triumphant: "So? Do you believe it now?"

Just as she wanted to further mock Moira, a large hand suddenly reached out from beside her, harshly throwing Fiona aside. Startled, Fiona grabbed a nearby coat rack and angrily looked toward the entrance.

There stood Adrian Grant, gently cradling the disheveled Moira on the floor, his eyes filled with care and pity for her.

Thinking about Julian’s attitude toward Fiona, she felt even more resentful. Why should Moira, this useless girl, receive so much affection? She’s just an orphan, what right does she have to compete with me for Julian?

But then she remembered that Julian now seemed like a puppet for her to manipulate. Fiona’s mood improved slightly.

Still, Moira was always such an eyesore, regardless of the situation.

As Fiona continued cursing Moira, Adrian had already carried Moira to a small sofa nearby, looking at her with heartache.

Since Fiona had made a move, Moira’s eyes, already as red as a little rabbit’s, filled with tears that streamed down her cheeks. Yet, her face showed no emotion; only emptiness remained in those eyes, usually filled with endless stars.

Adrian tenderly wiped away Moira’s tears, then turned his gaze to Fiona, who was sitting on the floor, "I’m wondering, who gave you the courage to treat my dear Moira like this? Just relying on the Rhodes family’s influence? I think if the Grant family were to use all its resources to bring down the Rhodes family, it wouldn’t be too difficult."

Adrian’s face now showed no trace of the tenderness he had for Moira, only icy disdain.

Fiona stood up slowly, adjusted her makeup, and forced a calm smile at Adrian, yet the hatred in her eyes was impossible to hide: "Adrian Grant, you’ve misunderstood. I came mainly to share the good news about Julian and me with Moira, who unexpectedly wanted to harm me and my unborn child. I had no choice but to defend myself."

But what had Adrian just said? To use everything to destroy the Rhodes family?

At this thought, Fiona’s expression shifted slightly, her eyes looking sharply at Moira. What on earth is so good about this wretched girl? Why is everyone so protective of her?

Why!?

Moira didn’t expect Fiona to be so shameless and immediately retorted: "You’re the best at turning black into white, Fiona Rhodes. There’s no way you’d be pregnant with Uncle’s child! It’s absolutely impossible!"

Though she said it was impossible, fresh tears began to fall again.

Adrian hadn’t expected Fiona to attempt to provoke Moira further at this moment, and his face instantly darkened. He forcefully pulled Fiona and threw her out of the room.

Fiona staggered and crashed into the wall outside, bewildered. She hadn’t anticipated that Adrian would disregard the child in her womb. Her expression stopped pretending and turned vicious, making Adrian even more repulsed.

He had no interest in arguing with a woman like Fiona and slammed the door shut, turning to comfort Moira.

His mind replayed the words Zayne Sinclair had said and the scenes he had witnessed, and his gaze toward Moira grew more sympathetic.

Under Adrian’s comfort, Moira quickly calmed down. Although her voice remained choked with emotion, it didn’t deter her urgent need to know Julian’s situation: "Adrian, brother, you’ve been there so long, you know if what Fiona said is true, right? Uncle won’t marry her, and she’s not pregnant, right?"

Seeing the hopeful look in Moira’s eyes, Adrian felt he couldn’t bring himself to speak the truth of what he had learned, trying instead to change the subject: "How did that woman get in here? From now on..."

"Don’t change the subject, Adrian. I just want to know where Uncle is now!" As a woman’s intuition kicked in, Moira immediately sensed Adrian’s abnormality. She interrupted him, staring at him directly, demanding an answer.

The intense gaze made Adrian feel as if his thoughts were laid bare, so he had to look away, softening his voice: "Don’t be afraid, little Moira. Adrian will always protect you."

Realizing Adrian was evading a direct answer, Moira felt a jolt inside. Reflecting on the call she made to Julian, everything began to connect. Her vision grew blurry once more: "Adrian, there’s no need to say more. I understand now, Fiona was telling the truth. Uncle, he really doesn’t want me anymore."

With that, Moira burst into tears and ran out of the room, ignoring Adrian’s shouts behind her. All she wanted was to find a quiet place to cry it out.

Moira ran out of the hotel, merging with the flow of people, running heedlessly until she was utterly exhausted and pale, stopping breathlessly at a crossroads, staring blankly at the sky by the red light.

After a while, as her strength briefly returned, she gazed across at the park, crossing the street with heavy steps. In her current state, Moira could only hear a buzzing in her ears, unable to hear or care about what others were saying. She walked mechanically, oblivious to the fact that the light was red.

Just as Moira was about to cross halfway, a truck headed toward her, with people on both sides of the road shouting for her to get out of the way. But it was too late; some turned away, unwilling to witness the impending bloody scene. Suddenly, a figure darted past them, heading straight for Moira in front of the truck. In the final three seconds, she was pounced on to safety, then promptly pulled across the road.