Chapter 231: Chapter 231: The Woman Locked in No. 9
Ann Vaughn hesitated for a while before slowly turning around, looking at him in confusion. "What?"
Cyrus Hawthorne tilted his head slightly, his expression gentle, "My assistant, all the research institute’s submitted materials go through my assistant to reach me. Previously, there was no need, so I didn’t hire anyone."
This condition sounded tempting enough.
But as for Cyrus Hawthorne himself, Ann Vaughn no longer dared to trust him.
"...There are countless people outside offering fortunes for my medical expertise. Why should I diminish myself by becoming your assistant?" Ann Vaughn lightly tugged at her red lips, utterly unmoved by his proposal.
"The authority is equivalent to the director, isn’t that enough?" Cyrus Hawthorne raised an eyebrow at her, "Moreover, if you tell them you’re Mrs. Hawthorne, isn’t that more useful than any position?"
"..." Ann Vaughn chuckled, "Do you think you can just hire me at whim? Anyone fond of the title of Mrs. Hawthorne can take it, I certainly don’t care for it."
Who knew what traps were hidden in his words waiting for her to fall into them? She wasn’t that foolish.
Her completely indifferent tone made Cyrus Hawthorne’s brows furrow deeply; he then tossed aside the book in his hand, reached out, and pinched her soft little cheek, saying in a low voice, "No one else can occupy this position except you."
"I said I’m not interested." Ann Vaughn frowned slightly, shook off his hand, and rolled to the corner of the bed farthest from him without moving her ankle, "When will you leave? I want to sleep."
Cyrus Hawthorne replied casually, "When you fall asleep."
It made Ann Vaughn mentally beat up his miniature effigy, while clutching the blanket tightly around herself, curling up entirely, and keeping her eyes open defensively in case he suddenly decided to do something.
The room suddenly became quiet, the main light turned off, leaving only the two warm bedside wall lamps.
Cyrus Hawthorne looked down thoughtfully at the book in his hand for a moment, his gaze unconsciously shifted to the little woman eager to hide herself, a silent smile flashed on his thin lips.
Judging only by her breathing, she was not asleep, and her nerves were extremely tense.
It seemed that every time she was alone with him in the same space, she was particularly wary, even cautious.
But four years ago, she didn’t know about the surgery matter, leaving only one answer.
Sutton Jennings.
Thinking of the phone contact for Sutton Jennings on Ann Vaughn’s call list, Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes darkened instantly under the lamp.
After an unknown period, he gently closed the book, knowing Ann Vaughn was pretending to sleep, yet he still made no sound to disturb her, quietly leaving.
Upon exiting the master bedroom, Cyrus Hawthorne went straight to the guest room to rest.
However, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep, his heart burdened with a dull ache, just like every midnight over the past four years.
Only when Ann Vaughn was beside him did the feeling become distinctly different.
With darkened eyes, Cyrus Hawthorne turned over, propping himself up with his long arms, opened the drawer, and took out several bottles of medicine, directly poured out more than a dozen pills, and swallowed them slowly with ice water.
Water trickled down the line of his tense jaw, past the curve of his seductive Adam’s apple, disappearing into the collar of his shirt.
Casually setting the mineral water bottle aside, Cyrus Hawthorne lay down again, shielding his eyes with his long fingers, a soft sigh escaping his thin lips.
The days of holding the disobedient little thing next door in his arms freely, saying good night before sleep and seeing her immediately upon waking—how many of those days remain?
Yet no matter how long, to avoid scaring her away, he could only patiently wait.
Early the next morning.
Ann Vaughn awoke early, feeling a quiet relief when she did not see Cyrus Hawthorne in the room, until she tried to get out of bed and felt a throbbing pain in her ankle.
Although she had applied medicinal liquor last night, why...
Ann Vaughn glanced at the blanket she had carefully wrapped around herself before sleeping, now in a mess upon waking, and frustratingly tugged at her hair.
Why couldn’t she be more behaved while sleeping!
Resigned, she found her handbag, took out the injury balm and evenly rubbed it on the wound, feeling an instant cool sensation.
After doing all this, Ann Vaughn called Kenny to apologize.
"Mommy, you can’t sneak a man home, one big man Kenny at home is enough. Other men just want mommy to look good and want mommy to bear children and do housework. Kenny is different!"
The little bun spoke with a grave tone, yet sounding adorably soft, making it impossible not to laugh.
Ann Vaughn curiously asked him, "How are you different?"
"Kenny is rich, handsome, and cooks. He can take care of mommy for a lifetime!" So mommy must not be tricked away by The Archfiend!
Little dumpling felt troubled about his mommy being tricked away by The Archfiend three days out of two, but couldn’t say it openly, so he could only use indirect methods.
Ann Vaughn immediately burst into laughter, "Don’t worry, darling, mommy may like handsome guys, but mommy will never find you a stepdad. Mommy is perfectly content with just having darling!"
"Exactly, darling is mommy’s precious little jacket. Darling has to enter the school gate now, mommy bye-bye!"
"Mua!" Ann Vaughn blew a distant kiss to her little jacket, about to put away her phone when Sutton Jennings called.
"Annie, our previous guesses were all wrong. There’s someone hidden in No. 9 Mental Sanitarium. My men infiltrated three times to find the core information."
Over there, Sutton Jennings’ voice was slightly heavy, making Ann Vaughn’s heart leap, "Who is hidden?"
"Cynthia Vaughn." Sutton Jennings paused before continuing, "Her mental state has been collapsing since four years ago, akin to a psychiatric patient, recently showing signs of improvement."
"No. 9 is labeled as a mental sanitarium, but calling it a madhouse is more accurate. Cynthia Vaughn isn’t receiving treatment here, but... is being punished."
While speaking, Sutton Jennings sent the detailed information to Ann Vaughn’s phone for her to see for herself.
Listening to Sutton Jennings, Ann Vaughn was initially shocked, then incredulous.
"How could she be confined in No. 9? Would Cyrus Hawthorne allow anyone to treat his beloved like this?"
Sutton Jennings hadn’t expected it either, "The one confined in No. 9, unable to step out of the ward for four years, is actually Cyrus Hawthorne himself. The bodyguards around Cynthia Vaughn’s ward all come from Cyrus Hawthorne’s private security team."
"What?!" Ann Vaughn’s voice involuntarily rose, her hand rubbing the ankle suddenly pressed hard, nearly crying in pain herself, "Could there be a mistake? Given Cyrus Hawthorne’s affection for Cynthia Vaughn..."
Back then, her fate was the most potent proof of Cyrus Hawthorne’s deep fondness for Cynthia Vaughn, wasn’t it?