She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 227

Lyra's heart had been hammering against her ribs, but in that split second, an eerie calm washed over her.

She had to survive this. Jonathan Ford had already taken the bait, using Fairchild Holdings' discarded scrap to manufacture his products. She needed to be alive to expose his unchecked greed and completely obliterate the Ford family's presence in Seaborne City.

Delilah was waiting for her at home.

She couldn't die today.

Without a fraction of hesitation, Lyra floored the gas pedal. Her engine roared as she dangerously overtook the swerving vehicle, expertly whipping her car around so her rear bumper perfectly aligned with the front of the out-of-control Lincoln.

The deafening crunch of metal on metal exploded through the air.

During the initial impact, she didn't dare hit the brakes completely, terrified the heavier sedan might flip right over her and plummet into the river below. Instead, she eased off, letting the massive force push her forward. When the Lincoln slammed into her a second time, her car absorbed the brutal, unyielding shockwave. Her rear bumper pulverized instantly, the trunk crumpling inward like crushed tin as the entire chassis shuddered violently.

The steering wheel rattled so fiercely it numbed Lyra's hands. She was thrown forward, her forehead clipping the windshield, the violent whiplash nearly snapping her neck.

It took a brutal third impact before the monstrous vehicle finally ground to a halt. By sacrificing her own car as a physical buffer and frantically pumping her brakes, she had miraculously trapped the Lincoln between her crushed bumper and the concrete guardrail, saving it from the fatal plunge.

As the twisted wrecks settled into silence, Lyra let go of the wheel, killed the engine, and fumbled to release her seatbelt.

Peering through the cracked rearview mirror, she watched a figure emerge from the smoke.

General Preston Thorne, Secretary of Defense. A man who held the absolute power of the nation in his hands, whose every word dictated federal policy.

A wave of relief crashed over her. She had won the gamble.

By saving this man's life, she had secured an impenetrable shield for the Fairchild family's future.

Lyra shook her head slightly, her expression flawlessly serene. "A car is replaceable. Human life isn't."

A flash of deep approval crossed the General's eyes. His gaze settled back onto her, sharp and evaluating, dissecting her calm demeanor with intense scrutiny.

Lyra could feel his calculating gaze stripping away her layers, searching for a motive. Yet she simply stared at the smoldering ruins, making absolutely no move to volunteer her name.

A man of his position would run her license plate the moment he left, easily pulling up her entire background and identity. Trying to play the hero and boast about who she was right now would only backfire. Playing the mysterious savior was far more effective.

Traffic cops arrived shortly after. They immediately snapped to a salute upon recognizing the General. Preston ordered a female officer to escort Lyra to the hospital for observation before he and Bennett departed in a black SUV sent by his subordinates.

Once at the ER, Lyra had the minor cuts near her hairline cleaned and bandaged, politely declined the police escort, and hailed a cab straight home.