Selling Myself to the CEO

"Philadelphia news reports, today on Stream Road, a black Bentley encountered an unknown attack, and the car fell off the edge of a cliff..."

"It is rumored that the license plate of the Bentley is PA-AXX88, which is the private vehicle of Mason King, the president of the York-King Group. The York-King Group has now dispatched all its security personnel to search for the vehicle and the people in it. At present, Mr. King's life and death are unknown—"

-

"Mommy, why hasn't this uncle woken up yet?" Four-year-old Abigail Trent stood curiously by the bed.

"How would I know? You insisted on bringing this bloody person home. He might really end up like the rabbit you rescued last time, dead within a few days."

Suzanne Trent came over with a digital thermometer, stuck it on the man's forehead, and raised it high to look at the reading while glancing at little Lily by her leg: "What's the hurry? Can you read numbers?"

Abigail tilted her head in protest: "I'm four years old! I can count to a hundred!"

Suzanne showed her daughter the thermometer with a smile.

"Mommy, it says 39, right?"

"Thirty-nine degrees." Suzanne glanced again at the half-dead man on the bed: "With injuries like his and a persistent high fever, he refuses to go to the hospital. If something fatal happens, your mother and I will have to take you on a vacation to the police station."

"Mommy..." Little Lily hugged Suzanne's leg and softly said, "Please save him..."

"This is a living person, how can I save him? Ever since you brought that sick stray cat home when you were two and a half, you've been bringing me little animals every few days. Now, look at you, wanting me to bring back a dying man! Do you realize we could get in trouble?"

Abigail turned her head back to squat by the bedside, blinking innocently at Suzanne and placing her small hand on the injured man's hand.

It was like the injured little animals she rescued would always be hugged back to her room, for fear that Mommy would throw them away.

Suzanne rubbed her forehead in pain.

It was her fault for not being sober at the time since I would never have brought back a person of unknown identity if I had been.

Two days ago, Abigail had a summer camp activity at her kindergarten. Suzanne had an unexpected situation that night and ended up drinking a few glasses of wine. When the designated driver dropped her off at the destination, she was a little late for the agreed time.

Abigail said she needed to use the restroom because she had been waiting for too long. The summer camp site was on a desolate plain under a cliff, so there were no restrooms. Suzanne had to lead her to a nearby bush.

There was a man lying in the bushes.

A man covered in blood, who seemed to be dead or alive.

A few dozen meters away was a high cliff with a mountain road. Suzanne guessed that the man had fallen off the cliff and died. She covered Abigail's eyes, intending to leave the scene quickly.

Just as she was turning to leave, her ankle suddenly tightened, grabbed by a cold, bloody hand. At that moment, her whole body tensed up and she froze in place.

"Don't go." The weak and hoarse male voice sounded from behind her.

It was her fault for being slightly drunk and not clear-headed at the time. Abigail, used to rescuing small animals, didn't understand the gravity of the situation. Instead of being scared, she pleaded with Suzanne to save the man. Heat overcame her mind, and she dragged the man out of the bushes with all her strength...

The designated driver got out of the car to smoke a cigarette, and it was dark and far from the road, so he didn't notice there was an extra person in the car.

When Suzanne sobered up the next morning and saw the man who might die at any moment in her house, she was terrified—

It seemed she had also cleaned up the bloody man, changed his clothes, and completed the task with the help of the alcohol that night. How did she manage it?