Capturing the Young Doctor's Heart: Mr. Big Shot Won't Let Me Go-Chapter 82: Please Don’t Be Angry Anymore

Three cars, dark as thunderclouds, descended with an overwhelming force, trapping her with nowhere to escape.

At that moment, Assistant Cheney had already reached her, as usual, expressionless, respectfully saying to her, "Miss Prescott, President Lowell asks you to get in the car."

Claire Prescott looked into the car through the window.

She couldn’t see anything.

Perhaps because his way of blocking was so imposing, it made her feel a certain tension she couldn’t quite put into words.

She apologized to the taxi driver, then walked towards the black Maybach at the back.

As soon as she opened the rear door, she met a pair of deep, solemn eyes.

The man was dressed in a suit, sitting steadily in the single-seater, his figure blending into the dimness of the car, cold and detached, his eyes dark like thick ink, threatening to swallow her whole.

Claire Prescott paused at the car door, hesitant to get in.

But, it seemed if she didn’t, he would stay blocked here.

So much so that the taxi driver in front impatiently shouted, "What are you dawdling for, are you going to let us go or not?"

She didn’t delay anymore and bent down to get in.

At the moment she got in, the two cars surrounding the taxi driver cleared a path.

Everything seemed to quiet down.

Yet the quiet was unnerving.

Then, the man’s cold voice sounded.

"Put on your seatbelt."

Claire Prescott turned her head to look at him, only to find the man exposing a cold and handsome profile, not looking at her at all.

Although he spoke words of concern, his tone was extremely aloof.

At this moment, she couldn’t understand him at all, only faintly feeling that he seemed to be angry with her.

She reached for the seatbelt and buckled it, deliberately shifting towards the window, distancing herself from him, and turned to look outside.

Already in a bad mood, being treated so coldly by him now made her even more depressed.

Assistant Cheney discreetly glanced at the rearview mirror, noting his boss’s displeasure.

Just not long ago.

Their car had been cruising steadily, when suddenly a Ferrari overtook them, cutting in front, scaring him to brake sharply.

By the time he reacted, the Ferrari had already swerved into the adjacent lane.

No one with a keen eye dared to cut into the boss’s convoy.

They were about to deal with it.

Suddenly, the boss ordered in a deep voice to catch up.

Concerned about the boss’s safety, he dared not drive too fast, leaving other bodyguards to pursue.

But in the end, he lost track, driving the boss aimlessly on the road.

Until a bodyguard car caught up and discovered the situation, they turned to follow, seeing only Zara Leighton alone.

He got out and cleared up the situation, finding out who was racing moments ago.

However.

Returning to the car, he felt a chilling coldness creeping, as if falling into an icehouse.

He silently endured, looking for Old Dr. Sinclair along the road.

Upon spotting her, he took out the radio, instructing other cars to block the taxi, leading to the situation earlier...

Returning to Azure Court, the two sat separately, ignoring each other.

The boss, unlike before, didn’t bring her inside, yet Old Dr. Sinclair was also stubborn, sitting still in the car.

However.

Just as the boss approached the door, his figure paused.

After two seconds.

He turned back, opened the rear door, calmly unbuckled Old Dr. Sinclair’s seatbelt, and carried her out of the car, walking steadily inside.

The bright light in the living room reflected the coldness on him, deterring closeness.

Yet he gently placed her on the sofa.

Just before he turned away coldly, Claire Prescott immediately grasped his hand, looking up at his sharp profile, "Are you angry with me?"

Her voice soft and low, carrying a hint of grievance.

Keane Lowell turned around, meeting those reddened eyes.

As if a needle pierced into the softest part of his heart, his chest ached, making it difficult to maintain his exterior coldness.

The girl’s face was fresh and charming, pure like a delicate white lotus flower, making it hard to associate her with the racer from hours ago.

"Old Dr. Sinclair was right in saying you’re a handful. Racing at night,"

Keane frowned, despite restraining himself, his tone was heavy, "Are you out of your mind?"

Yet the girl defiantly met his gaze, "Racing is one thing, your silent treatment and cold war throughout the journey is another."

Her tone was unusually calm.

Keane’s heart was turned chaotic by her, "At such a moment, you’re still holding my faults against me?"

Claire Prescott turned away, guilty and somewhat afraid to look at him.

She explained, "I’m familiar with that area, I had a measure, I wouldn’t let anything happen to me."

After a moment of silence, she finally conceded, admitting her fault, "Regardless, racing wasn’t right, I’ll control my emotions better in the future."

After speaking, she couldn’t help but observe his expression for any softening.

The racing had just happened, she didn’t know how he found out so quickly, but she now understood he was angry out of concern for her safety.

Yet...

A silent treatment, a cold war was not right.

But, facing those deep icy eyes, Claire Prescott repeatedly conceded defeat.

She softly coaxed, "I won’t race again, don’t be mad anymore, okay?"

Speaking, she even shook his hand.

Today, he was dressed in an exquisite black suit, not a wrinkle in sight, giving an impression not of his handsomeness first, but of an unquestionable authority.

When angry, his presence was particularly dominating. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

Even though he was only six years older, it gave her an illusion of a much larger age gap.

Keane was completely subdued by her tenderness, unable to hold her against him anymore nor keep a stern face, his tone softened, "No matter what happens, don’t seek thrills, don’t treat your life like a joke, I can’t handle you being like this."

The phrase "can’t handle" made Claire Prescott’s nose tingle sourly.

She couldn’t hold back anymore, rising to throw herself into the man’s embrace, promising, "I won’t make you worry again, forgive me just this once, okay?"

Keane hugged her, the tight string in his heart broke completely without a sound, totally defeated by her.

He kissed her forehead, his voice low, "I won’t hold this incident against you, but next time, I can’t promise not to punish you."

Punish...

Claire Prescott felt a shiver in her heart.

But she still obediently promised, "There won’t be a next time."

"Mind your own business less next time," Keane advised, even without asking, he could guess her outburst was due to Zara Leighton’s issue.

Claire Prescott’s expression fell for a moment.

Ultimately, she had no control over Zara, only feeling a sense of helplessness and deep hatred.

Hating Zara for not trying, stumbling hard in love, yet still obstinate.

But...

Were it her, if she and Keane couldn’t make it together, could she manage to leave cleanly without any lingering sentiments?