Chapter 401: Chapter 401: I Think I’m Dying
Ann Vaughn: ???
No, what’s the connection between these two?
"Don’t worry, I’m not interested in messing with your precious brother." Recalling Cyrus Hawthorne’s earlier warning, Ann Vaughn turned her head away in annoyance, showing him the back of her head.
It made it seem like she had intentionally lost Elias Hawthorne’s amulet and was using it as an excuse to get close to him.
Unreasonable, totally irrational!
Hearing the anger in Ann Vaughn’s voice, Cyrus Hawthorne raised his hand and turned her to face him, fixing her attempted escape with his large palm, his narrow eyes gazing deeply as if trying to peer into her soul.
"Don’t be alone with any member of the Hawthorne Family except me, alright?"
Ann Vaughn was startled for a moment, then vaguely understood his meaning, "Will he harm me?"
If Cyrus Hawthorne was only referring to Elias, Ann Vaughn might think he was suspicious of her deliberately getting close to Elias.
But he referred to "The Hawthorne Family," which meant he wasn’t warning her about something but reminding her...
Thinking of this, the doubt in Ann Vaughn’s heart grew heavier, looking at Cyrus Hawthorne’s unfathomable eyes, she wondered, "But I heard from Mark Joyce that Elias isn’t part of the Hawthorne family, so why does he call you brother?"
"He indeed isn’t on the Hawthorne Family Tree, so naturally, he doesn’t count as a real Hawthorne." Cyrus Hawthorne handed her ginger tea, saying calmly, "He is the first child of my uncle."
The first child... that means Elias is indeed the son of the late wife of the Hawthorne family’s uncle?
Ann Vaughn was even more confused. If so, why isn’t Elias on the Hawthorne Family Tree? The Hawthorne Family values bloodlines so much, they wouldn’t have let him wander outside for so many years.
"Elias isn’t a Hawthorne, so why do you still want me to stay away from him?" Ann Vaughn felt her head was getting knotted.
"Some matters you don’t need to know, just follow instructions." With that, Cyrus Hawthorne handed the ginger tea back to her lips, succinctly saying, "Drink."
"..."
After finishing a cup of ginger tea, Ann Vaughn felt warmth spread through her stomach, and her chilly limbs also gained some warmth, but whether it was because she had vomited too much earlier, the nausea returned.
She lay there like a salted fish and turned over, murmuring, "Quinn, I think I’m going to die."
"..." Cyrus Hawthorne frowned, lightly scolded, "Don’t talk nonsense."
"Really!" Ann Vaughn nodded vigorously, her bright eyes swiveling, she continued, "If you want to save me, give me a cup of vanilla ice cream, I want to have a tasty bite before I croak..."
Right after she spoke, Cyrus Hawthorne stepped forward.
She looked up unexpectedly and saw the man’s narrow eyes filled with laziness, with an indescribable meaning,
"Still want to eat?"
"No, no more!" Ann Vaughn shook her head frantically, covering her slightly aching lips, feeling a mix of wanting to cry but unable to.
Might as well be a salted fish and be honest.
The food from the Celestial Pavilion soon arrived, Ann Vaughn battled sleepiness to get up and drank a little porridge, but didn’t touch any of the other dishes.
Cyrus Hawthorne looked at those dishes she usually loved so much, but now ignored, not even touched with chopsticks, and his cold brows furrowed slightly and imperceptibly.
"Don’t want to eat anymore, too sleepy." Ann Vaughn ate only a few bites before putting down her spoon, lazily climbing back into bed.
Recently, the weather was getting colder, and she loved sleeping more each day, wishing she could merge with the bed.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s face was slightly solemn, just about to speak, when Ann Vaughn, huddled under the blankets, lazily said, "Quinn, even Kenny would eat on time, you understand me, right?"
For a moment, the darkness on the man’s face disappeared, and his eyes softened, "Yeah."
...
The sight was filled with blood-red horror, chilling to the bone.
Screams and sharp cries were drawing nearer and nearer.
"Bang"
A blood flower suddenly exploded, accompanied by the dull sound of a body falling, where the light rumbling sound rose, in the last clean spot of this blood-red world, stood a devil in an elegantly tailored white suit, looking back remotely...
"Come over, girl..."
Like heavenly music from paradise, making one’s body and mind unwilling to resist sinking, but just when relaxing into it, the devil reveals his fangs...
"Ah!" Ann Vaughn suddenly woke up from her dream, a fine sweat beading on her forehead, her eyes somewhat vacant from not being able to differentiate reality from the dream.
Why dream of that...
Since leaving that place and returning to a normal life, she hadn’t had such a dream ever again.
She hadn’t even thought of that place at all, so why did it...
"Awake?"
A cool voice came from the sofa ahead on the left, Ann Vaughn turned and saw a figure seated there, the residual fear and numbness from earlier gradually faded away.
Before she could reply, the figure of Cyrus Hawthorne as he worked on documents simply set down his pen, speaking calmly, "The restaurant is already booked, let’s go eat first."
"Uh-huh." Ann Vaughn nodded, patting her cheeks to refocus.
The restaurant was located on Veridia Road in Marinia, the only one imported from overseas, only serving ten tables a day, with the menu decided by the restaurant, leaving the guests without choice.
In an era where the customer is king, this restaurant would most likely face closure from customers.
However, it didn’t only avoid closing but grew more popular, restrictions and all, drawing people to squeeze in and book through back doors, with a constant queue every day.
Over the last two years of restaurant ratings in Marinia, this restaurant called "Etranfire" beat the competition and claimed the gold crown title for two years running.
Just hearing its introduction made Ann Vaughn very curious about how delicious the food could be.
Until she saw a table full of plain dishes, so light it made her teeth ache, Ann Vaughn deeply doubted if this restaurant deserved its crown.
"For a stomachache, avoid spicy food." Cyrus Hawthorne lifted his gaze to Ann Vaughn’s reluctant face, speaking solemnly.
Ann Vaughn: "..."
He doesn’t care for his own stomachaches, but he restricts her thoroughly for minor discomfort, where’s the justice...
Thinking this, Ann Vaughn unwillingly picked a plump, round piece of food that didn’t reveal what it was and put it in her mouth.
Soft and tender, the flavor blossomed instantly on her tongue, needing nearly no chewing, melting upon entry.