Chapter 200: Chapter 200: Who Gave You the Nerve to Bully My People
The five bodyguards immediately surrounded Ann Vaughn, grabbing her from both sides, and snatched her handbag away.
Ann Vaughn looked annoyed as she struggled a few times but couldn’t break free, her teeth biting down on her red lips, her mind quickly searching for a way to escape.
Having lived peacefully on the Isle of Flora for too long, her vigilance towards the outside world had diminished to this degree.
If she had known earlier, she should have brought the Mandala Powder!
But it was too late to regret now, the man in the suit pulled out the long Golden Needle from his hand, his face twisted in rage as he looked up, swinging his hand to slap Ann Vaughn across the face!
Ann Vaughn’s fair and delicate cheek immediately bore a glaring slap mark.
"You filthy slut, acting high and mighty! I’ll beat you to death!" The man in the suit spat out saliva, tearing open the collar of Ann Vaughn’s cheongsam with malicious eyes.
Some present couldn’t stand it, wanting to help Ann Vaughn, but they were stopped by companions.
After all, this was the young master of the Langdon Family, offending him wouldn’t end well for anyone.
The rest secretly hoped the man in the suit would do something to Ann Vaughn, craving for a show to unfold in front of them.
Ann Vaughn felt a chill at her collar, her sweaty palms gripped tightly.
Just as the man in the suit tried to tear off her cheongsam buttons, she suddenly raised her knee, fiercely striking at him!
The man’s vital part nearly couldn’t dodge, his original idea of humiliating Ann Vaughn in front of everyone instantly turned into murderous intent!
"You damn—" The man in the suit clenched his fist, aiming to smash it down onto Ann Vaughn’s head.
The man’s strength was massive; that slap on Ann Vaughn’s face already hurt her painfully, if that punch landed on her head, a concussion would be mild!
Ann Vaughn struggled furiously, trying to break free from the bodyguards’ grip, but the fist was getting closer to her, even stirring up a gust of wind—
Ann Vaughn forcibly suppressed the impulse to kill in her heart, closed her eyes, waiting for the expected pain to arrive.
"Ah—release, release, ah it hurts—"
The pain didn’t come; instead, the pitiful cries of the man in the suit entered Ann Vaughn’s ears.
She slowly opened her eyes, only to see a pair of long, straight legs encased in black suit pants, she was momentarily dazed, somewhat puzzled, she raised her head.
A man’s finely sculpted handsome face unexpectedly appeared in front of her, his deep-sea-like eyes moved over and happened to meet hers.
In the next second, the man lifted his hand, taking off the black windbreaker he wore, draping it over Ann Vaughn, wrapping her tightly.
The faint cold fragrance like a mint invaded her nose through the windbreaker, as if her whole being was locked in his world, Ann Vaughn’s heart jolted, her pupils contracted incessantly.
All the blood in her body froze at this moment, rendering her immobile.
Why is he here?!
Cyrus Hawthorne only glanced at Ann Vaughn for a moment, his gaze then attracted to the fresh red handprint on her face, immediately turning violent, murderous intent leaking incessantly.
Within it even lay a trace of imperceptible heartache!
If there were a thermometer on site, the temperature in the venue would be about below zero now, even the air conditioner wouldn’t work.
"Who hit her?" His voice sounded like it rolled several times back from Kryos, each word enveloped in icy coldness, extremely chilling.
And Ann Vaughn clearly hadn’t recovered from the shock, so she didn’t answer him.
Half of her cheek was brightly red, and her cheongsam collar had been torn open, her expression dazed, looking extremely flustered.
Damned.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes were as cold as ice blades, showing no warmth at all, he turned his gaze to the man in the suit laying on the ground, his eyes ruthlessly watching a man on the verge of death!
"A dog from the Langdon Family dares to come out and bully my people, who gave you the courage?"
No one other than Cyrus Hawthorne could dare to disregard the political powerhouse Langdon Family.
The crowd watching the scene quickly backed several meters away, no one dared to approach lightly, fearing to be caught in the crossfire.
"Mr., Mr. Hawthorne, considering the good relations between our families, please spare me this time!" The man in the suit clutched his senseless right hand, his voice trembling.
Wasn’t this woman supposed to be discarded by Mr. Hawthorne? A worthless shoe?!
This protective stance doesn’t seem like discarding at all?!
Cyrus Hawthorne gazed coldly at the man in the suit, whose ugly demeanor was vividly apparent, as if looking down on a trivial ant, "Mark Joyce, hand him over to the Langdon Family, and ask Deputy Mayor Langdon how he taught his son."
The man in the suit’s face instantly turned exceedingly ugly, as if he had seen a ghost, his body trembled like a sieve; none of his prior arrogance remained.
If Cyrus Hawthorne had dealt with him privately, he would still have room to maneuver.
But Cyrus Hawthorne planned to directly hand him over to his father!
The mayoral election was at a critical juncture now, Cyrus Hawthorne’s support was extremely vital, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it would determine the final outcome!
And to win over Cyrus Hawthorne, his father wouldn’t even need to consider, he would directly abandon him, the Langdon Family had more than one son!
Understanding this point, the man’s face completely turned gray.
It’s over, everything’s over.
His bodyguards had long been subdued by Cyrus Hawthorne’s people and lined up on the side, with no one caring about his life or death.
"Do as I instructed." Cyrus Hawthorne coldly commanded Mark Joyce, then proceeded to the still stunned Ann Vaughn, bent down to carry her horizontally, and walked out.
"Rest assured." Not until they had walked far away did Mark Joyce’s face dare to show a shocked expression.
Miss Vaughn, dead for four years... actually came back?!
But at the moment, this wasn’t the most important matter. Mark Joyce collected his gossip-focused thoughts and turned to carry out Cyrus Hawthorne’s orders.
This Young Master Langdon was unlucky indeed, with bright prospects before him, he chose to bring about his own doom, no one to blame but himself.
...
Once out of the venue, Ann Vaughn was shocked by the cold air outside, gradually recovering her senses, only to find herself being carried by Cyrus Hawthorne; she immediately tried to jump down.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s arms were like iron bands holding her, leaving no shred of chance to escape.
"Don’t move."
"Please let go, sir." Ann Vaughn frowned displeasedly, trying to break free from Cyrus Hawthorne’s arms.
Her distant cold address and attitude were like a thorn, stabbing Cyrus Hawthorne’s mind into discomfort, his brows furrowed.
The elevator dinged open, and Cyrus Hawthorne stepped in carrying Ann Vaughn.
"Can’t you hear what I’m saying? Let me go—hmm!"
Ann Vaughn was annoyed, reaching out to push against Cyrus Hawthorne’s chest, trying to force him away.