Chapter 726: Chapter 726: Does It Look Like My Mommy?!
"Generally speaking, when the female protagonist encounters this kind of situation, she would firmly and stubbornly stand outside the door waiting until the male protagonist appears... Then it starts to rain, and the female protagonist suddenly faints, so the male protagonist carries her in his arms..."
"...Oh, shut up. You think this is a novel?"
"We’re doomed! If the Family Head finds out we chased away the Young Madam without permission, we won’t get away with it!"
Ann Vaughn, who had already left a long distance, had no idea that these Hidden Guards were regretting relentlessly. She simply took a cab to Bamboo Creek Villa.
Compared to staying alone in her apartment, she preferred to have someone around.
Fortunately, Susie Sommers didn’t let her down and happened to be home at this time.
However, Ann could never have expected that as soon as Susie saw her, she would burst into tears.
"How could you just leave without saying anything! If not for the note you left, I almost called the police, do you know that? Don’t think that cooking me a pot of hangover soup can heal my fragile soul’s trauma! You heartless jerk, Simon Chaney! Boo hoo..."
Susie hugged Ann tightly and cried out without any decorum, leaving Ann both amused and helpless.
"Alright, alright, I’m back now, aren’t I?" Ann always knew she would return someday, but at that time, she had no choice but to leave as Laura Quinn insisted.
Yet nowadays, isn’t it fine to go back on one’s word?
"You may be back, but do you know how worried I’ve been these days?" Susie sniffled, "I don’t care, you have to make it up to me!"
Susie had always been strong, her stoic nature surpassing even that of men.
Seeing her crying so wretchedly out of worry for her made Ann feel even more guilty.
"Okay, okay, what do you want as compensation?"
"Spicy crayfish, crystal eggplant stew, West Lake vinegar fish, osmanthus brew..." Susie listed a string of dishes without pausing, adding at the end, "You must make up for the weight I’ve lost worrying about you these days!"
Ann playfully poked her belly, "You’re not dieting anymore?"
"I am! I’ll diet after I’m full!"
...
Villa No. 8.
As winter winds whistled, covering the ground with fallen leaves, like longing stones staring into the direction Ann left, the Hidden Guards waited endlessly for Ann to turn around and come back as they had expected...
Seeing the situation becoming increasingly severe if they continued waiting, the captain of Hidden Guard Team 2 decisively went to report.
In the study.
Heavy drapes with floral patterns hung on either side of the floor-to-ceiling windows, with bright but soft sunlight streaming into the room, illuminating the sofa in front of the window.
The light outlined the slender figure half-reclined on it. The man’s thin eyelids were lazily lowered, casting a crow-blue shadow under the corners of his long lashes, making his nose appear even more prominent.
He didn’t say a word, his pale lips forming a slight, threatening press.
The room was dead silent.
The middle-aged man kneeling at the edge of the sofa trembled, with cold sweat continuously pouring from his forehead despite the cold weather, too afraid to wipe it off.
"Mr. Hawthorne, I’ve said everything I know, I really don’t know anything else..." The middle-aged man crouched lower, swallowing nervously.
Yet the man on the sofa remained unresponsive, not even lifting an eyelid.
The middle-aged man dared not show anger nor speak, swallowing his pride as he continued kneeling, hoping the gentleman would be in a better mood later and spare him.
"President Hawthorne, I found it." Just at this moment, Mark Joyce stood up from the desk, picked up a laptop, stepped in front of the sofa, and said respectfully, "The boss behind this man is a notorious financial scammer abroad, who cheated X Group out of billions last year and is still on the run."
The man casually moved his long arm resting on the back of the sofa, signaling to Mark Joyce.
Mark immediately handed over the tablet.
"Interesting." Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes half-squinted as he skimmed through the content, his deep voice full of coldness, "He is no longer of use, take him away."
The Hidden Guards in the study moved at his words, giving the middle-aged man no chance to struggle, pinning him down to be taken out.
"W-Wait a minute!" The middle-aged man tried to break free in desperation, seeking a chance for survival: "I can tell you who colluded with my boss! If you let me go, I won’t hide anything!"
"Don’t you have any interest in the big fish of the Sheridan Family? We can cooperate! Fifty-fifty—no! Seventy-thirty!"
"I beg you, don’t turn me over to international law enforcement—"
The middle-aged man’s trembling cries grew increasingly distant until they faded behind the tightly closed study door.
There was not the slightest ripple on Cyrus Hawthorne’s icy-cold face; he glanced down at the documents on the tablet. A faint headache throbbed upon his brow, followed by a sharp pain piercing his heart.
As if thousands of worms were gnawing at his heart, lingering unbearably.
The sunlight fell upon his sculpted, handsome face, making it appear even paler.
"President Hawthorne, you should rest now." Mark Joyce glanced at the time and worriedly reminded him, adding, "President Hawthorne, allow me to add. Although the Sheridan Family is known as the wealthiest in Marinia, and holds an illustrious status, it’s nothing to Hawthorne Corp."
"Is it truly worthwhile for you to resolve this great trouble for the Sheridan Family yet not let them know it was your doing?"
This sort of thing brought no tangible benefit to the Hawthorne Group and even cost them in terms of their resources.
Cyrus Hawthorne would never have done such a thing before.
"You’re becoming more and more talkative lately." Cyrus looked up, casting a sidelong glance at Mark Joyce, half-smiling.
Startled into fear, Mark stuttered, "I’m sorry, President Hawthorne, I overstepped."
Cyrus withdrew his gaze indifferently, and his Adam’s apple moved slightly as he swallowed hard, his narrow eyes closing again.
Just then, someone abruptly pushed open the study door.
A Little Dumpling in teddy bear pajamas ran in, crying and shouting, and lunged directly at the sofa, wrapping its arms around Cyrus’s leg.
"Daddy!" The Little Dumpling cried with heart-wrenching sobs.
The sharp pain gathered in his chest gradually dissipated, but before he could breathe a sigh of relief, Cyrus was startled by the sudden weight on his leg, opening his eyes narrowly.
The Little Dumpling’s face was covered in tears, and his bear ears bobbed twice on his hood from the hurried run.
"Daddy!" The Little Dumpling held on tight to Cyrus’s leg, pointing outside with a chubby finger, wailing in a small, tragic voice, "Look at today’s sun, does it look like Mommy who hasn’t come home yet?!"
Cyrus: "..."
Mark: "...Pfft." Hahahahaha!
After being coldly swept by a deathly glance, Mark managed to stifle his laughter, taking several steps back to leave the room.