Overwhelmed by the Billionaire’s Persistent Pursuit

Chapter 192: Her PTSD was overwhelming. She felt powerless behind the wheel. Candice's grip on the wheel tightened, and she began to feel suffocated. In this dire situation, she had convinced herself that she could push through. But to her surprise, she still couldn't move the car an inch. The vivid flashbacks from the car crash three years earlier flooded her mind. There were screams and cries as the car came to a stop, followed by the wailing of ambulance sirens. The sounds felt as though they were right next to her head.

She covered her ears in anguish and slammed her forehead onto the steering wheel. Her breath was growing increasingly shallow. As Milton climbed into the passenger seat, he immediately sensed something was wrong. "What's going on with you?" he asked, noticing her distress. It was clear something wasn't right. When he gently pulled her away from the wheel, he saw that she had her hands over her ears and her eyes shut tightly. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and her normally porcelain complexion was pale and colorless.

Milton could tell she was on the verge of losing consciousness from the lack of air. Without hesitation, he rushed out of the car, reached in with one arm, and pulled her from the driver's seat, laying her flat on the rear seat. He stroked her cheek softly, but she didn't respond. Seeing her gasp for air, her face flushed, Milton knew he had to act fast. He pressed his mouth to hers, giving her the air she needed. She was trembling uncontrollably, and he could feel it. Thankfully, his lungs could hold plenty of air. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and gave her more.

Candice's body began to relax after he repeated the process several times. His kiss wasn't filled with lust; it was purely out of urgency to save her. Latest novels uploaded gⱯlnσνℯs․cøm Eventually, her breathing slowed, and she seemed to fall into a peaceful sleep in the backseat. Milton quickly got into the driver's seat, started the sports car, and sped off. However, when he moved her earlier, the knife wound on his arm reopened. A searing pain shot through him. Although in excruciating pain, Milton kept driving.

At the same time, he used the central control desk system to look up the sudden symptoms Candice had shown. He thought carefully and recalled that she had not been injured during the fight and was unharmed by the bald man's spray. He realized that asking her to drive must have been the cause of her condition. She started acting strangely the moment she got behind the wheel. Finally, Milton considered that Candice never drove before and always took a cab or the subway whenever she went out. Why? The answer revealed itself to him on the screen: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. . . .