Chapter 480 Winnie's Dilemma
How old was Melanie? About 24?
She had a child with Bentley? Winnie just couldn't see it; Melanie didn’t seem to have any connection with Bentley at all.
Rubbing her temples in confusion, Winnie wondered whether she should go get Melanie. But could she handle Bentley? The answer was a resounding no.
She wasn't close enough to Melanie to interfere with her personal life, so she sent the location to Melanie's assistant, asking him to come pick her up.
Her already rotten mood was completely disrupted by this ordeal.
Winnie settled her tab, stepped out of the bar, and hopped into her car. She had driven a mile before the realization hit her: she had been drinking.
The streets were empty; the night was quiet and clear. But even so, she felt the pressing need to call for a designated driver.
As she attempted to pull over and reach for her phone, she hit the brakes, but they were unresponsive. She thought her foot had lost its strength.
With a forceful stomp, the brake pedal suddenly reacted like the accelerator, and her car's speed soared past 90 mph.
"What's going on..." Panic set in, cold sweat forming on her brow, and her drunken haze began to clear from the shock.
After several futile attempts, Winnie realized that the brakes hadn't failed due to a lack of strength in her leg. Someone must have tampered with her car!
But how? It was running just fine on her way to the bar!
She glanced up and saw the throughway's end rapidly approaching. With the speed too high, she attempted a sharp turn.
The steering, too, was compromised!
"No, I need to stop..."
Crash!
The world blurred as her car smashed through the guardrail. Winnie grappled with the steering wheel in a desperate bid for control. The vehicle hung precariously over the edge, threatening to plunge into the river below the bridge.
Her body trembled, her face turned pale, and the airbag obscured her vision.
Warm blood began to trickle down from her head. She was injured.
Fearful of falling into the river, Winnie shakily reached for her cell phone on the dashboard.
When she finally clasped the device, panic took over her mind. She hit a button, thinking it the emergency call key.
But her eyes rested on the name that appeared on the screen: Lawrence R.
Tears clouded her eyes; her heart ached with a mix of pain and warmth. It was almost laughable that, in this life-or-death moment, her subconscious being reached out to this man she had inadvertently begun to despise deep down in her bones.
Winnie's attempt to hang up came too late; the call connected.
"There's no point in pretending," she quickly spoke up, "Lawrence R... I've had an accident. There's been a crash! You—"
"Are you looking for Lawrence? He's in the shower. We're at a hotel," came Ishara's sickly sweet voice, dripping with insinuation. "At this hour? You know what we'll be up to soon. Haven't you been in my shoes? Why ruin our moment?"
On the other end, silence enveloped Winnie as if her blood had turned to ice, likely to shatter in her veins with any sudden move.
Her pupils dilated with disbelief, growing faintly white in shock. "Put Lawrence on the phone!" she demanded.
Instead, all she heard were suggestive splashes over the line.
"He doesn't want to take the call, that's why I've got his phone, you see?"
The connection ended, leaving Winnie alone with the chilling sounds of a potential fall looming near, as reality's harsh grip took hold.
“Winnie, why didn't you call the cops after the accident? What's the use of calling Lawrence? He's not going to save you!”
“Today, he wouldn't even let you win the competition!”
“He's in a hurry to take me to Lymington, to visit his mother. We'll head out as soon as we wake up."
“He's not coming to rescue you...”
Desolate, Winnie hung up the phone as if withering away.
When her life hung in the balance, he was taking Ishara to meet Madam Rodriguez, rushing all the way from Trento City to Lymington, with such urgency, such importance!
Melanie's assistant said he left the company with Ishara at three in the afternoon, going on a date.
And now they are indeed at a hotel...
In her dying moments, her last glimmer of hope for him turned into bitter irony.
He wouldn't save her. He handed his phone to Ishara!
Tears streamed down Winnie's cheeks, her heart turned to ash...
Why did she ever fall for such a heartless man?
With a light chuckle, Ishara hung up the phone and turned off the faucet in the plane's lavatory.
Pondering briefly, she pulled out her own phone and texted Eleanor, "Mom, did Uncle's associates took care of her yet? But she's not dead! She attempted to seek help from Mr. Rodriguez."
"Ishara, wait a moment," Eleanor replied, surprised, and immediately called her brother.
The response was unexpected, "Ishara, your uncle had someone shadowing her. But they hadn't made a move! Her car clearly malfunctioned—there was an accident! It seems this little wretch has more enemies than just us; others want her dead? The accident didn't kill her; I'll tell your uncle to push harder!"
Staring at the message, Ishara wondered who else wanted Winnie dead.
With a slight smirk, she texted back, "From her voice, it sounds like she's trapped in the car. Tell them to act fast and not let her get away!"
After sending the text, Ishara stepped out of the restroom.
She glanced at Claire.
Claire was keeping watch at the cabin door.
Trying not to draw attention, Ishara slipped the phone back into Lawrence R's suit jacket pocket.
The suit jacket was hung on a rack; he had just stepped out for an emergency video conference call.
At 6:30 PM, the plane was due to take off.
Lawrence R ended the video conference in the spacious airport and headed back to the cabin.
That's when his work phone rang.
He answered it.
"Mr. Rodriguez! Why aren't you picking up your cellphone?
Winnie's been in a crash! Someone tampered with her car, and it's stuck on the overpass above the Tigris!
The river's flowing rapidly!"
Lawrence's blood felt like it had turned to ice. He patted his trouser pocket, realizing his personal phone was not with him–it was in his jacket!
Rushing into the aircraft, the veins on his forehead bulged. "What's her status now? She didn't call me!"
"How could she not call! You were the first one she tried; she said you wouldn't save her! Mr. Harrington, are you taking Ishara to Lymington now?" It was clear that Jeremy had inquired about Lawrence's whereabouts from Luke.
Fury swept over him. "Winnie's dying! How could you be so heartless? She had no choice but to call me after you didn't respond, and now I'm heading straight to the Tigris to help her. Are you coming or not?!"
Lawrence stared at the roaring plane, about to take off, at a loss for words, his voice hoarse, "Jeremy, are you sure you've located her? You have to save her!"
"Can't you make it? Got an emergency? ... I will help her," Jeremy said, deeply disappointed.
"..."
At this critical moment for his mother, he had to take Ishara to Lymington for a blood transfusion.
With a clenched jaw, Lawrence boarded the private jet, and the door closed behind him.
Ishara, sitting quietly in her seat, was taking her blood pressure.
Lawrence walked in front of his suit jacket, pulled out his phone, and checked it for missed calls. There was no record of a call from Winnie.
He furrowed his brow, but Jeremy had said Winnie called!
Where did the call log go?
Suddenly, Lawrence gave a stern look to Ishara—
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