Chapter 356: Chapter 356: Show-Off Maniac
Cyrus Hawthorne was standing in front of the wardrobe changing clothes, his muscular upper body bare, with his back facing Ann Vaughn.
The bruises snaking from his shoulder across his back suddenly caught Ann Vaughn’s eye, making her forget what she had intended to say.
This scar was undoubtedly from when he shielded her from the vase yesterday, getting injured by the weight and fragments.
Back then, she noticed something was off about his expression and later asked him before dinner.
He casually told her he was fine.
This is called fine??
Ann Vaughn bit her lower lip, turned around, and hurried downstairs, returning shortly with a medicine box.
"Injured like this, do you not feel anything?" Ann Vaughn angrily placed the medicine box aside, tugged at Cyrus Hawthorne’s shirt corner, and made him sit on the sofa, her tone fierce.
"Didn’t notice." Seeing the little one about to explode, the "I’m fine" at Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips lingered yet did not voice out.
Ann Vaughn didn’t believe him, taking a cotton swab to disinfect the wound, upon closer inspection, realizing the wounds were not only bruised and swollen but also peeling layers of skin, with blood seeping out, looking terrifying.
It was like a perfect porcelain left with blemishes, invoking an unspeakable urge to lament.
This wound might not seem big, but if not properly dealt with, even a slight brush against fabric could cause discomfort.
Her fingertips trembled slightly as she restrained herself to avoid making noise, biting her lip while disinfecting and applying medicine.
"Do you even care about your body at all?" Ann Vaughn pursed her lips, her eyes holding some rebuke, "Knowing full well you have stomach problems, yet drinking and skipping meals, plus not attending to injuries."
"You weren’t careless; you were indifferent, right?"
If he cared even slightly about his health, he wouldn’t end up in such a depleted state!
Ann Vaughn felt choked up, an oppressive air lodged in her throat, the more she pondered, the angrier she got.
Just then, Cyrus Hawthorne’s slightly cool hand suddenly grasped hers, with a gentle pull, he seated her on his lap, wrapping one arm around her slender soft waist.
"Taking care of me?" His thin lips slightly curved, his dark narrow eyes filled with a playful smile, looking directly at her.
Only less than five centimeters remained between them, Ann Vaughn could clearly feel his soft breath brushing against her, her face feeling hot.
Before she could speak, Cyrus Hawthorne pulled her even closer, whispering in her ear, "The only one who can take care of me is my wife."
"So, when do you plan to move back in, Mrs. Hawthorne?"
The tone he used for ’Mrs. Hawthorne’ was slightly pronounced, his magnetic and pleasant voice akin to fine wine, carrying an inexplicable emotion.
Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but shrink her neck, the heat spreading nearly throughout her entire body.
In the past, outsiders unaware of the details had called her Mrs. Hawthorne, but none ever made her feel—
Like now, as if her whole body was burning, feeling awkward.
Why does this man infuse his words with such allure?!
Yet recalling the divorce papers she signed back then, Ann Vaughn settled down, her red lips curving into a smile, "Is Mr. Hawthorne hoping to eat ’regrowth grass’?"
"But the grass has already run far away."
After saying this, Ann Vaughn attempted to get up, only to be pressed back into his embrace again, his slightly annoyed voice reaching her ears, "Dare to run?"
Finally, his eyes flashed with a smile, "Legs broken."
Ann Vaughn quietly glanced down at her legs, changing the subject, "Do you know exactly where Jade Shepherd and Howard Vaughn are in Mordane?"
"Hm?"
"I want to investigate some things, but I’m still uncertain..."
"You want to know if she really is the Sheridan Family’s daughter, or if there’s another mystery?"
Hearing this, Ann Vaughn looked at Cyrus Hawthorne with full surprise, "How do you know what I’m thinking?"
"Your thoughts aren’t hard to guess." Cyrus Hawthorne picked up a strand of her hair, playing with it nonchalantly, "Don’t overthink it, I’ll let you know when the results are out."
Ann Vaughn was at a loss for words, involuntarily pouting.
She barely formed a plan, and he was already awaiting results, what kind of efficiency disparity is this?
She had previously done a paternity test, making her hesitant to randomly guess.
After dinner.
Cyrus Hawthorne sent Ann Vaughn and Kenny back to Azure Gardens, finally leaving at her urging, to head to Hawthorne Group.
This act nearly moved Mark Joyce to tears, having waited long enough for yellow flowers.
With the year-end approaching, a pile of matters at the group required Cyrus Hawthorne’s judgment and decisions, hardly even freeing up half an hour during such a tense time, yet he stayed away for nearly two days.
Even left straight from an important meeting, putting those international guests aside.
Just the thought of calming this matter caused headaches.
Cyrus Hawthorne returned to Azure Gardens after finishing the urgent meeting and handling affairs, already late in the night.
The apartment’s lock had a significantly higher security level than before.
But—
Click.
Cyrus Hawthorne pushed the door and entered, intending to head to the master bedroom, only to glimpse the room beside, pausing for two seconds, then stepping over.
The children’s room was warmly decorated, its ceiling adorned with starry sea reliefs, the walls hung with what looked like handcrafted cloud lamps, emitting soft light.
The Little Dumpling lay sprawled on the child’s bed, sleeping soundly, his little belly exposed, short legs boldly stretched out of the bed.
Cyrus Hawthorne frowned slightly, walked over, adjusted the Little Dumpling’s pajamas, pulling the quilt tightly over him.
His fingertip accidentally touched Kenny’s chubby hand, almost pulling away, only to have it reflexively clutch his index finger.
Soft and warm, extraordinarily real.
Cyrus Hawthorne froze, looking at Kenny’s little hand, his dark eyes slightly narrowing, as if something was surging forth.
Only until this moment did he dare confirm, this child truly exists, rather than his conception.
After turning off all the lights in the children’s room, Cyrus Hawthorne came to the terrace next to the living room, took out his phone, and dialed a number.
Soon, the call was connected.
"Hello? What’s up in the middle of the night?" Silas Master Moore’s weary voice sounded from the other end, resembling a certain...exhaustion.
"Nothing." Cyrus Hawthorne’s usually stern and sharp brow had a faint hint of a smile, his tone very calm, "Just informing you, I have a son now."
"Oh, you have a son now."
The other side reacted indifferently, silent for about ten seconds, then suddenly came a sound akin to heavy objects falling off a bed.
Immediately followed by Silas Master Moore’s shout, "What did you say!? What do you have?!!"
"No, how did you suddenly have a son? Who gave birth? You mustn’t have done anything to betray Ann Vaughn, right?"