Chapter 481: Chapter 481: Which Part of Me Dissatisfies You?
Sherry was just about to answer him, when the hem of her clothes was tugged by slender white fingers reaching out from under the blanket. Ann Vaughn had somehow opened her tightly closed eyes and shook her head with difficulty.
"...Annie’s fine, I just accidentally knocked over the hot water on the table," Sherry said, pressing the call button for the nurse and making an excuse, "Annie has already finished her run, sorry, I was being overly concerned."
Sherry hurriedly acknowledged something from the other end of the line and hung up, then went to the bathroom to get a damp towel.
"How on earth did you get yourself into such a state? You don’t even know how to take care of your own body..." Sherry chattered as she placed the damp towel on Ann Vaughn’s forehead, unable to stop the worry in her heart.
Ann Vaughn did not answer her, her throat felt like a dried riverbed, the hoarser and more painful it was, the more she wanted to press her lips tightly together and stay silent.
Due to her high fever, her skin seemed to be stained with a beautiful, almost enchanting crimson, yet her perfectly shaped lips were strangely pale and, as she breathed, her crimson little tongue barely peeked out between her pearl-white teeth.
This is what a sick beauty looks like.
Even Sherry, a fellow woman, couldn’t help but be dazzled by this painting of a beauty.
In less than two minutes, doctors and nurses rushed over, took her temperature, identified the cause of illness, and administered medication in an orderly manner.
Not long after the fever-reducing injection, Ann Vaughn fell into a deep sleep, her slender fingers clenching the edge of the blanket without letting go.
Sherry noticed she was still wearing the outfit wet from the rain, and she immediately smacked her forehead, got up to get some hot water from the bathroom.
Who knew, as soon as Sherry stepped out, she saw a tall, well-built figure in the ward that startled her.
"Mr. Hawthorne?!" Sherry walked over with the hot water, surprised to see him testing Ann Vaughn’s forehead temperature with his palm, and said, "The doctor has already given Annie a fever shot, she just fell asleep."
Sherry glanced at the clock; it had been less than fifteen minutes since that phone call.
...Truly terrifyingly sharp.
"Hmm." Cyrus Hawthorne responded lightly, then took the hot water and towel from Sherry’s hand, "I’ll do it."
"Mr. Hawthorne, you’re not related to Annie, this might not be appropriate." Sherry saw him roll up his sleeves, realizing he wasn’t just pretending and immediately tried to stop him.
"I’m her boyfriend." After saying this, Cyrus Hawthorne glanced sideways at Sherry with a touch of firmness and spoke again, "You can leave."
What else could Sherry say, she had no choice but to leave.
After pulling the curtains, Cyrus Hawthorne returned to his previous spot, pulled back the blanket that Ann Vaughn was clutching tightly, and slowly removed her wet clothes.
The skin his fingers touched was shockingly hot, as if it were going to burn alive.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s brows knitted tightly, his long dark eyes focused without a hint of lasciviousness, as he meticulously dried the fragrant sweat off her body and dressed her in clean clothes.
Then he gently picked up the still-slumbering Ann Vaughn and placed her on another bed that hadn’t gotten wet.
She was deeply asleep, and given how gentle his movements were, she didn’t stir even slightly.
"You troublesome fool." Cyrus Hawthorne slitted his eyes, gazing at Ann Vaughn’s adorably flushed cheeks, his cold, taut lips barely curling upwards.
He couldn’t help but lift his hand to lightly stroke her pale lips, only withdrawing it when some blood color returned.
The phone in his trouser pocket suddenly vibrated slightly, and Cyrus Hawthorne took it out, glancing casually at the message received.
[Family Head, we have successfully returned Madam to the main house tower, everything went smoothly.]
The main house tower, a fifteen-story retro-style building, rarely frequented by anyone, generally used for... house arrest.
No waves rippled across Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression, unless observed closely, it was difficult to detect the deeply hidden aversion in his eyes.
At that moment, Sherry knocked on the door from outside the room, "Mr. Hawthorne, it’s time to wake Annie up to take her medicine, it’s on the table."
But once someone has fallen asleep deeply, it’s basically impossible to wake them up.
When Cyrus Hawthorne tried for the fifth time to feed medicine to Ann Vaughn at her mouth only to have her subconsciously spit it out again, Sherry finally couldn’t take it anymore, "Mr. Hawthorne, let me do it."
Cyrus Hawthorne slightly pursed his lips and handed both the medicine and hot water to Sherry.
Based on the frequency Ann Vaughn was spitting out the medicine, it seemed she should be spitting it out this time too.
But she didn’t.
As if she sensed who was giving her the medicine, even in a daze, she obediently swallowed the pills one by one, so well-behaved that it softened Sherry’s heart.
But Cyrus Hawthorne’s exceptionally handsome face suddenly darkened.
Sherry put the last pill into Ann Vaughn’s mouth and had her drink a bit of hot water, then set her back down, turning to see Cyrus Hawthorne’s gloomy expression, nearly laughed out loud.
If previously, when Ann Vaughn stopped her from mentioning her fever, Sherry was only suspicious, she could now be certain, she’s mad at him.
However, this time it seemed she was quite upset, refusing to even swallow the medicine he fed her, stubbornly spitting each one out.
Though Ann Vaughn usually appeared gentle, in her heart, she had a little book for holding grudges, and once recorded, she never forgot.
"Mr. Hawthorne, I’m heading out for now, you, ahem, take good care of Annie for me." Sherry really didn’t want to leave, but the dangerous and intimidating look Cyrus Hawthorne gave at that moment left her with no choice.
Given Annie’s current sickly state, there’s no way he’d be petty enough to torment her.
With this in mind, Sherry left with peace of mind.
However, facts later proved that Sherry had been too confident.
Cyrus Hawthorne got up with a sullen face, pulled back the blanket beside Ann Vaughn and semi-reclined next to her, forcibly wrapping the now-subconsciously dodging Ann Vaughn who sensed his presence and was shifting away into his arms.
"Tell me, what are you dissatisfied with about me, hm?"
His voice seemed to seep through his clenched teeth, the thick, sour words reaching Ann Vaughn’s ears.
Though she was somewhat conscious, ultimately, the heavy lead-like weight of her body dulled her mind, barely awakened, she subconsciously pushed against the brazen warmth in front of her.
But how could her scant strength be a match for Cyrus Hawthorne? His long legs dominantly braced against her restless little legs, his arms encircled her shoulders, gathering her petite body wholly into his embrace.
This only made the forcibly nestled Ann Vaughn against his chest seem all the more pathetically endearing.