Mr. CEO, You Look Strangely Familiar

The gate slowly opened, and his car drove leisurely inside before closing again.

Barring her entry.

Outside, the world was once again bathed in a dim yellow light. Nora Ainsworth’s palms were ice-cold, but she still walked up to ring the doorbell.

Quentin Grant’s car window rolled down. The captain jogged over and said in a low voice, ”She came at noon, waited across the street all afternoon, came back again after five, and hasn’t left since.”

Quentin Grant glared at him. ”You idiot. Couldn’t you have just given her an umbrella yourselves?”

The captain sounded terribly wronged. ”Young Master, without your order, we wouldn’t dare.”

”Get lost!”

”Yes!” The captain turned and jogged away.

Quentin Grant sat there for a moment before suddenly yanking the car door open and getting out.

His face etched with anger, he strode toward the main gate.

He pulled the gate open, and it made a loud noise.

Nora Ainsworth stood there, face to face with him.

”What are you here for?”

”Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to beg you. So now, I’m begging you: release Leon.” A layer of white frost had settled on her eyelashes, and her tone was frigid.

”Is this how you beg?” A cold sneer played on his lips. ”To think you’re actually willing to come and beg me for his sake.”

”Then what kind of attitude do you want?” Nora Ainsworth shot back. ”For me to kneel?”

He scoffed. ”In that case, you can just go home.”

Quentin Grant turned to leave. Seeing him go, Nora Ainsworth panicked and rushed forward, grabbing his arm.

Both of them froze for a moment.

Her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees before him with a THUMP. Her voice was barely a whisper. ”Mr. Grant, I’m begging you. Release Leon. Do whatever you want to me, just don’t drag others into this.”

He gently shrugged her off. ”I don’t want your groveling. I want your willing submission. If you can’t give me that, then don’t come looking for me.”

Nora Ainsworth knew what he meant, but she pretended not to. ”I don’t understand what you mean. Spell it out.”

”Just like before. Be my woman.”

She remained silent, a sharp pain burning in her knees.

”I’m sick of the ’your woman’ role. How about this? We keep things as they are now—once a week.”

He turned, his eyes narrowing. ”Do you think you’re in any position to negotiate? This is an order, not a suggestion.”

She gritted her teeth. ”Twice a week, at most. That’s non-negotiable.”

Only then did he agree, though his expression remained impassive. ”Fine. Come over on Wednesdays and Saturdays. And you’d better guard your heart—don’t fall in love with me.”

Nora Ainsworth got to her feet and met his gaze. ”I should be saying that to you, Mr. Grant. You’re the one who needs to guard his heart. Stop loving me. It will only bring you more pain. I have no love left for you at all.”

His pupils constricted. ”Is that so? In that case, today happens to be Wednesday. Come inside.”

Nora Ainsworth glanced at the time on her phone before saying, ”Release Leon.”

”Get inside!”

Nora Ainsworth pursed her lips, thinking resentfully, ’Of course. All you know how to do is brazenly threaten women and act all high and mighty!’

She followed him inside.

The Men in Black watched from under their umbrellas as the pair walked in, each of them secretly thrilled. They watched until Nora Ainsworth and Quentin Grant had entered the living room.

Only then did the group start chattering.

”I was the only one who bet Miss Ainsworth would come in. Now, pay up!”

The crowd groaned. ”I had a feeling this would happen. Our Young Master is such a pushover.”

”Exactly! What happened to all his usual swagger? He gets so spineless at the crucial moment.”

”Damn, I lost big time. A few hundred bucks down the drain.”

”...”

Once in the living room, Quentin Grant dialed the number for the Hall Master of the Valor Society. ”I’ll accept your deal. Release him.”

”Okay.”

Hanging up, he looked at Nora Ainsworth. ”Satisfied now?”

Nora Ainsworth grunted in affirmation. ”Aunt Flo’s been in town for a few days.”

With that one sentence, she successfully made the color drain from Quentin Grant’s face.

”How long is Aunt Flo planning to stay? When is she leaving?”

Nora Ainsworth shook her head. ”I don’t know. Aunt Flo is very high-maintenance. Every time she visits, she insists on staying a few extra days before she’ll leave.”

Quentin Grant scoffed. ”Well, is her husband dead or something? Why hasn’t he come to drag his wife away?”

Nora Ainsworth was speechless. ”Why don’t you go inform her husband, then? I’m going home. I’ll come back when she’s gone.”

He grew anxious. ”No. If ’down there’ is out of commission, has no one ever told you that you can use your mouth?”

Nora Ainsworth headed for the stairs. ”I’m sleepy.”

He watched her retreating back, displeased. ”Did I say you could go upstairs? How presumptuous.”

Nora Ainsworth continued upstairs without a word, pushing open the bedroom door. The scene inside was familiar. Nothing had changed; it was just as it had always been.

He ran up after her and stood right behind her. ”What are you staring at? Get inside.”

Nora Ainsworth went inside. As she sat on the bed, she remembered that she’d left in such a hurry she hadn’t brought any pads with her.

She opened the closet. ’I wonder if the ones I bought before are still here?’

She rummaged around for a moment. Sure enough, there were still some left.

She took them out and put them in a drawer.

Having watched her series of movements, Quentin Grant said, ”Lie down on the bed. I’m going to see for myself if you’re faking this.”

Nora Ainsworth looked at him indifferently. ”Fine.”

She obediently took off her shoes and lay down on the bed. Quentin Grant walked over, unbuttoned her pants, and tugged them down slightly to look.

Sure enough.

”What, did all the convenience stores go out of business? You have to use a diaper?”

”They’re more convenient,” she explained.

”No wonder you were buying diapers.”

”You saw that news story?”

Quentin Grant looked sheepish. ”No. Why would I look at news about you? I don’t have feelings for you anymore. I just want to f*ck you again, that’s all.”

”Fine.”

Quentin Grant went to take a shower. By the time he came out, she—the one who was supposed to use her mouth—was already sound asleep.

He pulled her into his arms, gazing quietly at her face. ’This isn’t some doll. This is her, real and tangible.’

Holding her in his arms, he could still feel a trace of pain.

She’d gotten thinner. Her collarbones were starkly prominent.

’She must not be eating properly.’

He turned off the bedside lamp, closed his eyes, and held her tightly as he fell asleep.

When he woke up, she was no longer by his side. It was as if it had all been a dream.

He got dressed and went out to the living room. When the Men in Black saw him approach, they couldn’t help but snicker.

Quentin Grant stepped forward. ”Keep laughing and I’ll give you a reason to cry.”

Instantly, the smiles vanished, replaced by a row of deadpan faces. The change was faster than a magic trick.

”What time did she leave?”

”She left at 5:40, Young Master.”

Quentin Grant frowned. ’That early?’

’Was she afraid of being seen?’

”Mm. From now on, don’t stop her when she comes.”

”Yes, sir!” Their reply was in perfect, almost rehearsed, unison.

Quentin Grant nodded in satisfaction. ”Good.”

He turned to leave, and the group of Men in Black behind him immediately broke into wide, goofy grins. When he suddenly spun back around, they all instantly wiped the smiles off their faces.

This happened a few more times before he finally huffed, ”What do you think you’re doing?”

”We’re happy for you, Young Master. Because you smiled.”

Quentin Grant turned away again, raising a hand to touch his face. ’Was I smiling?’