Mr. CEO, You Look Strangely Familiar

”What are you doing!” He wrapped his arms around her from behind. As they sat on the edge of the bed, he placed the laptop on her lap, and it quickly booted up.

Quentin Grant typed the name ”Nora Ainsworth” into the search engine, and a wiki page immediately appeared.

He opened the page. It showed Nora Ainsworth’s personal information and photos.

Below that was a list of her works.

Nora Ainsworth stared, dumbfounded. ’How could I not have thought to search my own name online? Or maybe I just assumed nothing would show up. That must be why I never did something so simple.’

Below that was a section on her relationship history.

Engaged to Leon Lynch, then called it off. Later, she and Quentin Grant, head of the Grant Group, announced their relationship at Studio City.

Then, Quentin’s fingers tapped a few keys, and a video appeared. It showed him and Nora Ainsworth standing together in a hotel hallway at Studio City, with Quentin announcing that they were together.

She watched with intense focus.

Seeing the sweet, happy look on her own face as he held her, and his own serious expression, she could hardly believe her eyes.

Even though she couldn’t believe it, the evidence proved they had indeed been together.

”Let me look up what happened to your mother.”

He quickly brought up the news of Mrs. Ainsworth’s suicide.

This series of events showed that what he had just said was, in all likelihood, true.

No wonder. She had dialed her mother’s cell phone number countless times, only to find it belonged to someone else. She had never once managed to speak with her. The Ainsworth Family’s phone number had also been changed long ago.

Nora Ainsworth sat there, staring blankly at the floor. ’What on earth happened these past two years? Why can’t I remember any of it?’

Snapping the computer shut, her voice became much calmer. ”Tell me everything.”

He replied, ”If you’re willing to listen, I’ll tell you every last detail.”

The two of them lay there side-by-side, and for the entire night, Quentin Grant never stopped talking.

He explained all the relationships and everything that had happened, even telling her every place they’d been together.

So when the morning light streamed through the window, she turned to him and asked, ”Was my first time with you?”

”Mhm.”

”Then who was your first time with?”

Quentin Grant cleared his throat. ”Let’s not talk about that.”

”It was that Catherine Callahan, the one who almost killed me, wasn’t it?”

”She wasn’t like this before.”

Nora Ainsworth huffed. ”I feel like a perfectly good cabbage that’s been rooted up by you.”

His hand stroked her hair. ”No matter how good a cabbage is, it’s still cheap. I’m not perfect either, but I’m still worth more than you. Besides, you’re a cabbage that only I get to root up. No one else should even think about it.”

Nora didn’t know if it was a psychological reaction or what, but his touch didn’t bother her as much as it had yesterday.

”I have a feeling you’re still not telling me something.”

She looked straight at him and asked with conviction.

Quentin Grant thought for a moment. ”There is one thing I haven’t told you. When you eventually recover, I’ll tell you then. Telling you now would be pointless.”

”Then when will I recover?” After listening to him all night, she now wanted to find her lost memories of the past two years.

”I don’t know either. Walsh is still researching it. I told him the other day not to bother, but if you’re willing, you can go back and cooperate with the treatment.”

”I’m not going back! You just want me to bear your next generation, don’t you? You want me to be a surrogate mother.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ”Nora, do you have any idea how many women want to have my children? Would I need you to be a surrogate? Stop being ridiculous. You were having trouble conceiving before, and you really wanted a child. Now, as long as you cooperate with the treatment, I won’t touch you. Okay?”

Her eyes lit up. ”You promise?”

”I promise.”

Nora Ainsworth thought about it carefully, then agreed. ”I’m willing to cooperate with the treatment. As long as I can recover, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Hearing this, Quentin Grant was happy too. ”I was hoping to court you all over again, but it seems that’s not happening now.”

”We still can.” She sat up too, smiling at him. ”Didn’t you say we’ve already rolled in the sheets countless times? What’s wrong with a pure prelude? In any case, you’ve already nibbled on this cabbage, inside and out.”

Quentin Grant hummed in response. ”Don’t leave the courtyard today. We’ll go out on a date tonight.”

And so, on that day, the sun was bright, and the spring flowers were in bloom.

After Quentin Grant left, Nora Ainsworth spent her time alone in her room, quietly looking up news—some about Leon Lynch, some about her and Quentin Grant. She even logged into her own Weibo account. It was strange. She clearly didn’t remember anything, but when she went to log in, her fingers typed out the username and password automatically, and she logged in smoothly.

She glanced at the list of people she followed. There were only a few.

Ethan Ellsworth, her company’s President Harding, and a Chloe Marshall. She clicked on Chloe Marshall’s profile and saw that her last update was from the thirteenth of the twelfth lunar month last year, about four or five months ago. Her most recent post was just a single image of praying hands.

But below it were millions of comments. The number was undoubtedly shocking.

She opened them and saw they were all things like ”Rest in peace! Travel well!” or various candle emojis.

She slowly scrolled down through the comments. After reading many of them, it was clear they were all conveying one message: this Chloe Marshall was no longer alive.

Nora Ainsworth froze, a sudden, sharp pain piercing her heart.

She had a faint feeling that this Chloe Marshall must have been very close to her.

When she looked through her old posts, she realized her guess was right.

Her Moments feed and past Weibo posts showed frequent interactions, almost exclusively among Chloe Marshall, Ethan Ellsworth, herself, and Chloe’s brother.

Closing the laptop, Nora Ainsworth lay down and fell asleep.

Right now, all she wanted to do was sleep. It was the only way to stop herself from overthinking.

But her dreams were chaotic. A long time seemed to pass without her realizing it, until finally, she shot up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat.

Two scenes were seared into her memory. The first was at Studio City, with Leon Lynch telling her a joke. The second was her mother jumping from the fifteenth floor, falling to her death right in front of her.

The scenes didn’t feel fake at all.

They couldn’t have been more real.

She looked at her watch. It was already past five. She had slept for the entire day.

The elderly housekeeper walked in, beaming. ”Miss Ainsworth, you’ve slept all day. You must eat something. Here, I’ve brought you some food. Please, have a little.”

Nora Ainsworth was surprised. ”Ma’am, you—”

The housekeeper smiled and said, ”Our Young Master knew who you were the moment you came here. Don’t hold a grudge against the Young Master for so long. With men, you have to give them the cold shoulder for a bit, then warm up to them again. It’s much more effective that way.”