Chapter 288: Chapter 288: Do You Like Sutton Jennings That Much?
Ann Vaughn was seething inside, her tone becoming significantly harsher.
These matters lay heavily on her heart like a massive lead block, almost suffocating her at the mere thought.
Even now, she couldn’t understand why he had to devise such a terrifying plan?
Did he have any idea what the consequences would be if this matter were to be leaked to others?
This was bad enough, but on what grounds did he meddle in her personal affairs? He even went so far as to threaten her with the lives of her friends!
Ann was genuinely furious, so much so that she considered never wanting to see him again, entertaining the idea of fleeing as far away as possible to avoid being treated like his appendage, to be toyed with at will.
She was a person, not a puppet!
Thinking of this, Ann’s eyes suddenly reddened. Even knowing that the dim room made it hard for him to see anything, she still feared that her vulnerability might be seen.
She forcibly shook off Cyrus Hawthorne’s hand, about to stride away from there.
But before she could take a single step, Cyrus Hawthorne held her wrist, frowning as he looked at her.
The little one’s eyes were so red, it was heartbreaking.
"Do you like Sutton Jennings that much? What makes him better than me?" His voice, unintentionally carrying a hint of anger.
He wasn’t even aware of how childish his question was.
This absurd remark immediately made Ann throw off his hand with force, retorting without thinking, "He is gentle and considerate, never like you who forces and threatens me on everything, in every way better than you!"
"How could I possibly like someone overbearing and arrogant like you who never cares about others’ thoughts, treating me like a doll!"
Four years ago, he made a decision for her without even asking her opinion, even if it was for her own good, she felt manipulated from beginning to end, without any right to choose!
If only he had revealed the slightest bit of information to her, she could at least try to understand him.
But no, from beginning to end, there was nothing.
So even though she knew he was acting in consideration of her health, she still couldn’t help but feel wronged and resentful.
This, perhaps, was the sadness of being a replacement for Cynthia Vaughn from the very start.
As the last word fell, raindrops began to pelt down outside the window, the clear sound against the glass drowning out the subtle noise of her tears hitting the floor.
Yes, she didn’t like him.
Ann’s eyes were red, her lips pressed tightly together, bitterness filling her mouth, stubbornly refusing to swallow.
She suddenly understood, perhaps from the beginning to now, in Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes.
She still was, and always would be, a replacement for Cynthia Vaughn from four years ago.
So, what need had an impostor for any free will?
Ridiculously, she only realized this now, even deluding herself over the past few days into thinking...
"Don’t stop me anymore, I don’t want to see you again." Ann took a deep breath, igniting a dull ache within her chest, finally finding a bit of strength to turn and leave.
This time, Cyrus Hawthorne didn’t stop her.
It wasn’t that her words shocked him, but because...
Those teardrops that fell on the back of his hand, scalding as if about to burn, were like the sharpest daggers in the world.
Easily tearing apart all his anger and nearly obsessive possessiveness, leaving nothing but deathly silence.
So it turned out, he wasn’t without a weakness.
Cyrus’ narrow gaze lowered, fixated on the mottles on his hand, his Adam’s apple bobbed.
Downstairs.
Ann returned to her room, packed her belongings, then headed downstairs with them, initially intending to trouble the villa’s driver to give her a ride. But she saw Mark Joyce standing at the door, seemingly waiting for her.
"Miss Vaughn, please get in the car." Mark Joyce opened an umbrella, opened the car door for her, and said.
Ann’s reddened eyes glanced at the pitch-black curtain of rain, then pursed her lips and sat in the back seat.
Mark drove the car out of the villa while explaining to Ann, "A careless servant accidentally shut off the power, leading to the blackout. Hopefully, it didn’t scare you."
Seeing Ann’s gaze dazedly looking outside the window without answering, Mark closely scrutinized her expression and seemingly got a hint.
"You had a fight with President Hawthorne?"
Ann’s already reddened eye rims turned even redder instantly, her slender fingers clenching suddenly.
"A fight? How could I even qualify to fight with him, in his eyes, I am probably a joke." She let out a self-deprecating chuckle.
"Please don’t say that, President Hawthorne has become very different since his amnesia, for you alone he is extremely kind." Mark pondered and said, "There are things I’ve kept to myself for long, might as well share them with you today."
"Four years ago, everyone envied Miss Cynthia because she had President Hawthorne’s care, admiration, and exclusive favor, with a future as the Young Madam Hawthorne."
Upon hearing this, Ann’s slightly moist lashes trembled faintly, but she said nothing.
Mark continued, "But what they didn’t know was President Hawthorne’s pampering of Miss Cynthia was due to gratitude from his childhood, and marrying her was because of that too."
"At his core, President Hawthorne is detached, familial bonds and affections may appeal less to him than a stack of documents. He didn’t care, hence he could afford to lavish care, fame, money, even the title of Mrs. Hawthorne on anyone, unrelated to love."
"You probably can’t imagine what President Hawthorne would be like if he fell in love with someone, could you?"
"He’d care about every little thing related to her, from major matters to trivial daily things, and would protect her in ways she wouldn’t even see, putting her first even if his schedule left no time for rest..."
"Miss Vaughn, President Hawthorne has likely been more concerned for you than you’d imagine even earlier on."
"Having stayed by his side for nearly twelve years, I’ve never seen him so lost as if his soul was gone."
"That happened not long after the news of your death came, your parents feared shocking President Hawthorne, falsely claiming you were not cremated but buried on Mount Vex, pleading with him to spare them."
"Dragon and I desperately tried to stop him, but President Hawthorne said you had claustrophobia and would be scared in such a dark place underground, he couldn’t let you stay there alone."
Hearing this, Ann instinctively covered her eyes, biting her lip, preventing any sobs from escaping.
"President Hawthorne dug with his bare hands the whole night, no matter how we tried to dissuade him, nothing worked. He worried about harming your body, even forbade us from using any tools."
"But in the end, there was nothing, just a pile of earth."
"To this day, I still remember President Hawthorne’s expression then, one could even call it utterly desolate."
"Afterward, President Hawthorne stopped going to the company, anesthetizing himself with alcohol, being sent to the hospital multiple times due to gastric perforations, eventually developing long-term stomach issues."
"President Hawthorne once said only in dreams could he see you briefly, until later, he stopped dreaming of you, reducing his need for sleep to the barest minimum, preferring to work through nights rather than sleeping, unable to sleep."