Chapter 192: Chapter 192: He Grew Suspicious
Fortunately, she only threw the pendant out of the window and not into the toilet, otherwise, even if we killed her now, we could only accept the loss.
After pretending to memorize the content on that piece of paper, Ann Vaughn split up with the servants to take action.
Trying to find such a small item in this enormous mansion in two hours is like finding a needle in a haystack.
"It’s the first time I’ve seen Mr. Hawthorne so anxious about something; could it be some invaluable antique?"
"I saw it once before. Mr. Hawthorne took it out to admire it with great care. The material looked like... diamond or crystal?"
"Stop it, my legs are trembling. Who’s the daring fool that dares to steal from Mr. Hawthorne..."
The "daring fool" they spoke of, Ann Vaughn, was pretending to search around the outskirts of the mansion while covertly measuring the position directly opposite the master bedroom window.
It happened to be facing the garden.
Though they called it a garden, it was planted with rare herbs that are rarely seen, with only a ring of Louis XIV roses planted around the edges.
Upon seeing the herbs, Ann Vaughn’s eyes sparkled, barely able to blink, as if they turned into starry eyes.
Goodness, if I could take away all these herbs, not only would the longevity potion experiment be set, but my new formulations for healing and nutritional agents would also be secured!
The herbs here are wasted; they should follow me!
Ann Vaughn was utterly captivated by the herb plot before her, her bright eyes calculating how these herbs could be used in various potions.
It’s as if these herbs were already hers for the taking.
If Ann Vaughn turned her head slightly at this moment, she would certainly see Cyrus Hawthorne standing at the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, watching her with a probing gaze.
Too strange.
If such a coveting, bright gaze appeared in Ann Vaughn or on the face of someone knowledgeable, Cyrus Hawthorne might not find it odd.
But such a gaze appeared on the face of the gardener, who usually only watered and weeded the roses, without understanding these herbs’ value.
It felt extremely out of place.
Thinking about this, Cyrus Hawthorne’s dark eyes narrowed further, continuously rubbing the faint teeth marks on the web of his right hand with his index finger.
Suddenly, scenes from a dream flashed in his mind—Ann Vaughn’s soft crying, her pitiful face, and the moment she bit into his hand in extreme pain.
It felt as real as reality.
Or perhaps it truly was reality.
Cyrus Hawthorne gently closed his slender eyes, quickly filtering through the oddities of these two dreams, from why he slept so deeply both times, to...
The familiar faint fragrance in the room.
He suddenly opened his eyes, turned, and left the living room, heading upstairs.
The calming incense in the master bedroom was specially customized by a doctor according to Cyrus Hawthorne’s condition, with a fixed weekly amount adjusted based on his mental state.
Once a night is the usual limit.
If he recalled correctly, he had not lit incense the previous night.
Cyrus Hawthorne strode over to the incense, picked it up, and took a gentle sniff.
Apart from the usual incense, there was a faint, nearly indiscernible fragrance.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes, clouded like shadows, suddenly seemed to clear, revealing slight light, captivating and enchanting.
-
The two hours passed.
The servants returned to the living room, all wearing distressed expressions and asking their companions if they’d found the item, only receiving negative answers.
At this moment, Ann Vaughn hurriedly approached, her face slightly muddied and breathing heavily, dropping the pendant onto the table as she entered the living room.
Just then, Cyrus Hawthorne entered the living room, and upon seeing Ann Vaughn place the pendant on the table, a trace of contemplation crossed his gaze.
"Mr. Hawthorne, is this the item you were looking for?" Ann Vaughn inquired knowingly, standing respectfully to the side.
Only heaven knows how much effort she spent digging it up from the rose bed; she had tossed it so casually, how did it end up so deeply buried?
That wasn’t the reason for her delay.
It was those herbs that nearly rooted her to the spot, making her wish she could pluck them all and sneak them away in her apron.
But that would be stealing, something she couldn’t do.
It was also Mr. Hawthorne’s property; she didn’t dare.
Just thinking about it made Ann Vaughn feel pain in her heart and liver.
Cyrus Hawthorne didn’t look at the pendant; his probing gaze swept over Ann Vaughn’s flawless face before he approached.
The item was found, so shouldn’t they be dismissed by now...
Ann Vaughn thought this in her heart but suddenly felt a shadow before her, quickly looking up to find Cyrus Hawthorne standing right in front of her.
Ann Vaughn: !!!
Did... did she say or do something wrong?
Under Cyrus Hawthorne’s pressure-laden gaze, Ann Vaughn’s heartbeat skipped a beat, forcing herself to meet his eyes, worried she’d impulsively turn and flee.
If she did that, she might not survive until dawn.
As Ann Vaughn grew anxious, she saw Cyrus Hawthorne reach toward her face—
His slightly cool fingertips brushed against her cheek, wiping away a layer of mud and light foundation.
Ann Vaughn took a few steps back, gazing at Cyrus Hawthorne in shock, "Mr. Hawthorne, what are you doing? I’m here for labor, not for sale!"
The servants looked on, their expressions difficult to describe.
No one expected it, truly didn’t expect it.
Now it made sense why there were only male servants and Auntie Ward, a middle-aged woman, in the mansion.
Who would have thought... Mr. Hawthorne had such preferences!
They hoped they wouldn’t be silenced.
"This appearance would lose face for me if a guest saw you." Cyrus Hawthorne lightly pinched his fingertips, indifferently retracting his gaze, then picking up the pendant from the table.
Though it wasn’t her face, Ann Vaughn felt an indescribable sense of humiliation, suppressing it as she stepped aside.
The servants breathed a collective sigh of relief, finally putting the threat of dismissal behind them.
"Where was it found?" Cyrus Hawthorne asked absentmindedly, examining the black crystal pendant with familiarity.
"In the rose bed in the garden." Ann Vaughn, unsure why he asked, thought about how the garden surveillance hadn’t been tampered with, unlike those in the master bedroom and on the staircase, and had to answer truthfully.
"Oh? The thief is clever, destroying the upstairs surveillance equipment just to steal such a small item." Cyrus Hawthorne’s voice was so faint; it showed no emotional fluctuation.
Yet the words sounded like sarcasm.
Ann Vaughn felt a stuffiness in her heart but could only suppress it to avoid arousing suspicion.