Chapter 473: Chapter 473: She Regrets It!
Dr. Kane, inexplicably rebuked: "..." Where does this brother get such a sharp tongue?
Their natural auras seemed to clash, especially in the operating room, a field where both excelled, making their differences all too apparent.
But when they discovered that the toxin in Ann Vaughn’s body wasn’t an ordinary poison, their expressions changed drastically.
It was the broken child grass?!
Breeze had to temporarily change strategies, allowing Dr. Kane to go out and send a message while he stayed back to stop Ann Vaughn’s bleeding.
Although Dr. Kane was not reassured, he understood the urgency, quickly going out to inform Cyrus Hawthorne of the situation.
"Miss Vaughn’s toxin originates from an exotic poisonous herb called the ’broken child.’ Due to its long incubation period, any woman who consumes this herb and becomes pregnant will inevitably lose the child. The toxin usually reveals itself only during a miscarriage."
"If an antidote is not administered within three days, Miss Vaughn’s life might... "
Dr. Kane stopped short, aware of the increasingly cold expression on the man’s face.
"How is the antidote made?" Cyrus Hawthorne’s gaze was icy, struggling to suppress the turmoil in his heart.
"Breeze mentioned that one only needs the Bone-removing Vine, a nemesis to the broken child grass. However, it’s been a long time since the Bone-removing Vine was cultivated outside, and the few seeds left have been scavenged by interested parties, making it extremely rare."
Upon hearing this, both Dr. Kane and Mark Joyce felt a sense of despair.
The Bone-removing Vine has long become little more than data and rumors, barely heard of in reality, let alone found for medicinal use.
Yet, this very herb is irreplaceable.
The person who gave Miss Vaughn the broken child grass must truly have a vicious heart, dragging them into their misfortune as well...
As they were thinking this, they saw the dark god before them making a phone call.
"Yes, bring over the whole Bone-removing Vine from the conservatory, as much as you can, quickly."
Not ten minutes after his call ended, Uncle Dexter, Kenny, and Bella Hawthorne arrived hurriedly, carrying pots of the Bone-removing Vine.
Seeing the thriving Bone-removing Vine plants, Dr. Kane and Mark Joyce suddenly fell into a suspicious silence, their faces slightly pained.
But Dr. Kane didn’t dare delay, taking two pots of the Bone-removing Vine into the operating room, blocking the tearful Kenny from entering.
"Brother, what’s wrong with sister-in-law? Is it really mom who..." Bella Hawthorne felt uneasy and didn’t want to consider the possibility.
Her mom clearly said she knew she was wrong, and she believed she genuinely wanted to change.
But then why did this happen to Miss Annie?!
Even if Bella Hawthorne is her daughter, she couldn’t definitively say it had nothing to do with Laura Quinn.
Cyrus Hawthorne didn’t answer her question, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the tightly closed door of the operating room, like a statue standing for ages.
Kenny stood by his side, equally silent, simply staring at the direction of the operating room, his big, beautiful eyes reddened beyond recognition.
The surgery lasted from daylight to deep into the dark night.
The light above the operating room finally went out, and Ann Vaughn was wheeled into a VIP ward from the operating room.
Outside, Breeze had removed the white mask from his face, explaining the specific situation to the stern, cold man before him.
This was his professional habit.
"To be blunt, the broken child grass has been in her body for over four years, otherwise it wouldn’t have such a domineering effect, nearly costing her life. Also, that little child had residual toxins in their body as well, probably carried from the mother, but that’s minor; three doses of medicine will suffice."
The man was silent for a moment, his elongated eyes slowly lifting to gaze at Breeze, "Is there a way to let her not notice her miscarriage?"
"Naturally there is, but it depends on whether Mr. Hawthorne is willing to pay the price." Breeze smiled slightly, a fox-like cunning in his expression.
"Is that so," Cyrus Hawthorne replied indifferently, "Seems Lucas Kane is quite unlucky to catch your attention."
Breeze’s smile froze, but he said nothing.
...
The dungeon, dark and cold like the air itself, pervaded every corner, instilling a bone-deep fear.
The mottled moonlight streamed in through the skylight, vaguely illuminating a pool of blood on the floor.
Next to the blood lay a disheveled and wretched woman. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the blood flowed from her legs.
Also evident was that her legs were broken.
"Ah ah ah—"
"I know I was wrong! I really know I was wrong! I will never provoke Ann Vaughn again! Never again!"
"I can apologize to her! Beg forgiveness, anything, just let me go!"
"Please, spare me; I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—"
Weak cries of repentance continuously echoed from the cold, silent dungeon, infused with deep terror and despair, each word like blood-teared pleas.
Alas, the man on the phone merely chuckled softly, his voice as cold as frost, "You are not worthy."
Stricken on the cold ground, Cynthia Sheridan shivered, her eyes resembling dead ash, enveloped by never-before-felt regret threatening to consume her.
If only, if only she had known it would end like this!
She should never have provoked Ann Vaughn from the very beginning!
No, she shouldn’t have impersonated Ann Vaughn’s identity to pose as Cyrus Hawthorne’s savior!
She regretted it, regretted it all!!
But the world is never short of the regretful.
"I was wrong, please, please give me one more chance, I will stay far away from Ann Vaughn... No! I will never show up in front of you again, just spare me!"
"Annoying noise." The man coldly spat two words, frighteningly instructive, "Little Shark hasn’t had a new toy for a while, treat it well."
"Yes, Family Head." The subordinate next to the phone responded respectfully, and once the man hung up, he approached Cynthia Sheridan, dragging her away like a rag.
Though they call it ’Little Shark,’ they thought, this woman has probably never encountered such a fierce, terrifying creature in her life.
To receive the Family Head’s order to send her to ’Little Shark’ as a toy, this woman ought to kneel in gratitude, they thought.
Meanwhile.
The VIP room wafted with calming incense, filling the air with a comforting aroma.
Yet, returning inside, Cyrus Hawthorne found that neither the comatose Ann Vaughn nor the Little Dumpling lying by her side, with golden beads still on his lashes, were sleeping peacefully.
Furrowed brows, tightly pressed lips, faces full of discomfort and pallor.
The rage and unease Cyrus Hawthorne barely managed to suppress rose once more. He walked over to the Little Dumpling, gently lifting him to take him to another bed, only to find him opening his eyes.
"Why didn’t you bring mommy back safe and sound."