Mr. CEO, You Look Strangely Familiar

This situation had gotten tricky.

One week after this incident, a private jet from Grestin crashed in the Capital, killing over ninety people.

At the same time, Fravia withdrew its case from the international tribunal.

Fravia handled the aftermath of the tragedy perfectly. Netizens seemed to understand what had happened, and discussions about the incident gradually died down.

Everyone knew the truth, but they all maintained a united silence.

The tables had turned. Netizens in Grestin demanded an investigation into the true cause of the crash and for those responsible to be brought to justice.

However, the official explanation given by the government was that the crash was due to mechanical failure.

The state would cover the damages.

And so, the major incident—which began at a Fravian airport and ended with the Grestinian private jet crash—was simply swept under the rug.

Both countries were seething with unspoken anger.

But for the sake of the bigger picture, neither made their grievances public.

Quentin Grant knew that this superficial calm was merely the quiet before the storm.

Otherwise, security wouldn’t have been tightened at all airports, bus stations, train stations, and private airfields, with large contingents of soldiers stationed at every entry point into Fravia.

An express delivery that evening further confirmed for Quentin Grant that the matter was far from over.

The package had been sent by Toby Dalton.

Inside was a contract. Signing it would bring immense benefits to both parties, particularly Quentin Grant, but he rejected it outright.

"Bastard!" Toby Dalton seethed, throwing down the package after reading Quentin Grant’s reply.

His subordinate stood there, trembling and not daring to make a sound.

Toby stuck one hand in his pocket and pressed the other to his forehead.

"If it weren’t for him, Lillian Bancroft would have died without a proper burial long ago. It was a perfect game, and he ruined it all! And now he has the gall to be so ungrateful. Quentin Grant, you don’t want to make this money? Well, I’m going to force you to make it! I’m making an enemy of you now." He glared at his subordinate. "Go investigate all the major events in Quentin Grant’s life over the past few years. I want to know what his weakness is."

"Yes, sir!" The subordinate hurried to obey.

Half an hour later, the subordinate placed a report on his desk. "Young Master Dalton, it’s all printed out. He cares deeply for his wife and children and loves his wife very much. But because of past experiences, his family is protected so tightly that it’s impossible to get near them. Also, according to my sources, he currently has people working with the Ainsworth Family in Valeria to find his wife’s mother. The details are in here. Please take a look."

Toby Dalton’s interest was suddenly piqued. He sat up straight. "His wife’s mother? Let me see. You’re dismissed."

The subordinate left.

He opened the report and read it over carefully. When he finished, he suddenly smiled. ’So, two people I greatly dislike are still alive. If they, the ones who know the truth, can tell me... Then, Quentin Grant, I refuse to believe you won’t come groveling to me for your mother-in-law... With leverage in my hands, any problem can be solved effortlessly...’

He stood up and walked out the door.

"Give the order. Have Yara Zimmer take a team to Valeria immediately. Whatever the cost, rescue Claire Sinclair and Catherine Callahan and bring them to me. I want to see them alive. If you can’t bring them back, don’t bother coming back to see me!"

"Yes, sir!"

Toby Dalton was in a good mood all day. In the afternoon, word came that the targets had been rescued and would arrive by midnight.

The Ainsworth Family was taken by surprise. They had no private security force, and their few hundred men were still outnumbered by Toby Dalton’s team.

The battle raged for a full three hours.

Toby Dalton lost many of his men. And though Mr. Ainsworth brought in significant reinforcements later, by the time they arrived, Claire Sinclair and her daughter had already been taken.

The once-orderly Ainsworth estate was now in ruins, a complete mess.

The stench of blood hung heavy in the air.

Toby Dalton was proud of his men’s capabilities, little knowing that Quentin Grant had deliberately arranged for them to succeed.

Quentin Grant found out just as the battle began, and he had a very good idea of who the mastermind was.

He saw right through the man’s scheme, as if looking into a clear mirror.

He sat there thinking, all the way until evening.

When Nora Ainsworth returned, she found him sitting there with a grave expression.

"What’s wrong, Quentin?"

He looked up at her. "Nora, Claire Sinclair and her daughter have been taken."

Nora Ainsworth’s smile froze. She frowned. "Was it... Toby Dalton?"

"You guessed it. I can’t think of anyone else it could be. After what happened at the airport, he must hate my guts."

Nora Ainsworth sat beside him and said seriously, "Quentin, you did nothing wrong. If you had let him succeed in the first place and provoke a conflict between the two countries, the consequences would have been truly unimaginable. He’s so audacious because, one, he has Grestin’s backing, and two, he has his own power. If he uses this to threaten you, why don’t we do what we did with the airport incident and turn his own plot against him?"

Quentin Grant turned his head. "You mean... go after his family? But, Nora, that won’t work. You don’t know him. He’s been an orphan since childhood. He was originally a ’dead man’ raised by Grestin, but he later became audacious, built his own empire, grew more and more powerful, and broke free from their control. As for Toby Dalton, if he has a weakness, it would probably be his dead lover. But she’s already gone. So, in this situation, he’s the one holding all the cards."

"Quentin, what did his dead lover look like? Do we have a photo?"

"Probably not. According to the file I saw, her identity was a closely guarded secret even before she died. Now that she’s gone, there’s even less chance of finding a photo of her online."

Nora Ainsworth thought for a moment. "There’s one place that’s bound to have a photo."

"Where?"

"Her grave..."

"Nora, what are you planning to do?"

Nora Ainsworth looked at him gravely. "We held Claire Sinclair and her daughter captive for so many days, and no matter what we did, we couldn’t get a single word out of them. Now that Toby Dalton has ’rescued’ them, they’ll surely see him as their safe harbor. Claire will definitely tell him the news about my mother. If we take the risk of getting that information from Toby, could that be a viable path forward?"