The car’s rear beca the front, and the two cars faced each other head-on.
Damon Crawford’s heart skipped a beat and he hurriedly slamd on the brakes.
But the car still left a skid mark on the ground, crashing into the other vehicle.
"Thud—"
Damon Crawford’s airbag deployed, trapping him in the driver’s seat, unable to move.
Maeve couldn’t anticipate the sudden forced stop, and she was thrown heavily against the back of the passenger seat and passed out instantly.
Only Ashley Shaw, thanks to Maeve’s assistance, had her handcuffs restrain her, preventing her from passing out like Maeve.
However, her wrist bore a deep mark and her right hand was scraped raw in several places.
anwhile, the luxury car opposite remained virtually unhard, only losing a headlight.
The safety performance of a three-million-dollar luxury car is not to be underestimated.
Warren Prescott opened the car door, his face grim, and stepped out, walking towards the forced-to-stop BMW X2.
Today, he was accompanying Elder Prescott for a check-up, and while Elder Prescott was undergoing a heart ultrasound, he went out for a cigarette to relieve his stress.
The dean was personally accompanying Elder Prescott, leaving Warren only responsible for transport.
But unexpectedly, just as he lit his cigarette, he saw Ashley Shaw helping a woman out from the hospital.
Standing by the side trash can, the hospital’s entrance pillar blocking him, Ashley Shaw didn’t see him.
Yet he instantly recognized the woman Ashley Shaw was assisting—the one he encountered at the hotel, who pronounced Ashley Shaw’s na with a peculiar tone.
His instincts scread trouble, and he kept an eye on them.
True enough, the woman took advantage of a distracted mont as Ashley Shaw opened the car door to shove her inside.
The car sped off.
He imdiately called Mr. Coleman, who was waiting outside, and they began chasing the vehicle.
When they first hit the BMW, and it kept going without stopping, he realized the situation was serious.
So he gave Mr. Coleman an adamant order.
Even if it ant destroying his own car, they had to force the BMW to stop.
Mr. Coleman didn’t disappoint him.
The car was indeed forced to stop, and suffered considerable damage in the process.
His footsteps were swift, anxious about Ashley Shaw’s injuries.
Inside the car, Damon Crawford could only see a handso man approaching with an overpowering deanor.
The man was young, but the cold gleam in his eyes made him seem like a ssenger from hell.
Damon Crawford shivered uncontrollably, instinctively trying to wiggle free from the confines of the airbag and seat.
But...it was too late.
The man arrived at his car, raising a hand to attempt opening Ashley Shaw’s door.
The door was locked, preventing him from opening it.
Damon Crawford realized this, breathing a sigh of relief, and planned on removing the airbag to drive away.
But before he could deal with the airbag, the man returned to his car, now carrying a small fire extinguisher.
Damon Crawford watched in disbelief as the man swung the extinguisher at his window.
With a single hit, the window was shattered, spraying glass onto Damon Crawford’s face, causing him to curse in pain.
"Damn!"
But the next mont, Damon Crawford couldn’t even muster a curse.
Because Warren Prescott used the hole in the window to unlock the car.
The door swung open, and Warren Prescott pulled Damon Crawford out, pressing his head against the window.
Warren Prescott was ruthless; the window was already cracked, and with just two hits, Damon Crawford’s face was a bloody ss, making it difficult for him to even breathe, not to ntion swear.
"Master! Don’t kill him!"
Mr. Coleman rushed over, reminding Warren Prescott, "Checking on Miss Ashley is the priority!"
Warren Prescott feared less about causing a death than he did about his actions not being brutal enough.
However, Mr. Coleman’s reminder of "Checking on Miss Ashley is the priority" dragged him back from the brink of a furious rampage.
He threw Damon Crawford aside, opening Ashley Shaw’s car door.
Inside the vehicle.
Ashley Shaw’s face was pale, her curled eyelashes noticeably trembling.
He hadn’t ever seen Ashley Shaw like this.
It was clear panic, overwheld with fear.
She seed like a broken porcelain doll, yet she managed to thank him with effort, "Thank you."
Warren Prescott’s brow furrowed deeply, it felt as if he could crush a fly between his brows.
Heartache peaked at this mont.
He tried to appear calm, mustering a smile uglier than a cry, and reached to gently stroke Ashley Shaw’s head.
"Don’t be afraid, I’m here, everything’s okay."
Ashley Shaw nodded, but her eyes lacked focus.
Her limbs were trembling, fear consuming her.
But the source of her fear wasn’t Damon Crawford, rather, it was the car crash just monts before.
When the car collided, her mories before death in her past life flooded her like the ocean.
For a mont, she almost couldn’t breathe on her own, forcing herself to inhale, her chest exchanging carbon dioxide and oxygen.
She thought those who have died once would be less afraid to die again, but when faced with life and death, she feared it more than in her previous life.
Soone who has died once truly fears death more.
She feared that all the choices and efforts she made differing from her previous life were going up in flas.
She feared that after her death, Ariana would be terribly alone.
She could empathize with that loneliness, as in her past life, Ariana left her first.
When the car crashed, endless mories surfaced involuntarily, but she longed for her child most.
The child who never had the chance to see this world, perished alongside her.
While she lived again, her child could never return.
Then, she saw Warren Prescott getting out of the car and approaching them.
His silhouette uncannily overlapped with the blurry figures she glimpsed in her life’s final monts of her past life.
But...it couldn’t be. He so strongly dislikes her, if not for Grandpa Prescott’s will before he passed, he would have divorced her by now, how could he have held her and yelled hysterically?
If it wasn’t Warren Prescott, who would it be?
Ariana is gone, Grandpa Prescott is gone, who else in this world would grieve over her death?
Ashley Shaw’s thoughts drift uncontrollably further away, her gaze lacking even more focus.
Warren Prescott clearly noticed that Ashley Shaw’s deanor was a bit off.
This didn’t look like a simple reaction due to fear; she clearly thanked him, but her eyes felt void of his presence, almost as if chanically uttered by an AI.
"Ashley? Ashley Shaw!"
Warren Prescott shook Ashley Shaw by the shoulders, finally bringing brightness to her eyes.
"Mm?"
"Are you okay? Do you have any injuries...?"
Before the word "injuries" could leave his mouth, Warren Prescott finally noticed that Ashley Shaw was handcuffed.
Earlier, in his urgency, he focused solely on checking Ashley Shaw’s state, neglecting the fact that her hand was cuffed.
He saw that her jade-like wrist was grazed to varying degrees, fresh blood slowly oozing from the wounds.
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