Chapter 208: Chapter 208: Does Mr. Hawthorne Want to Get Back Together?
If he dares to do anything to Kenny, then even if it costs her life, she will never let him off!
Their eyes met, and Ann Vaughn seemed to capture a hint of danger in the dark, narrow eyes of Cyrus Hawthorne. Before she could take a closer look, her chin was seized by him.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips seemed pressed with anger, his cold gaze fixed on her. "Ann Vaughn, I warn you, as long as I am here, you’ll never escape my grasp!"
"You dream of running away with Sutton Jennings? Dream on!"
Ann Vaughn froze, suddenly feeling a sense of relief, it seemed he hadn’t heard all of the conversation she had with Kenny.
Knowing he misunderstood, Ann Vaughn decided not to explain.
"What position does Mr. Hawthorne have to say this to me? My ex-husband? Or my brother-in-law?" Ann Vaughn’s red lips curled with mockery, "Sorry, whichever identity you have, you have no right."
Four years ago, their marriage was nothing but a facade. He treated her like she was nothing and repeatedly hurt her.
What qualifications does he have to control her now?
"Ex-husband?" Cyrus Hawthorne was furious and smirked angrily, his thin lips displaying a trace of anger, "Ann Vaughn, you truly dare to say that."
"Since we signed the divorce agreement, we have lived in separate worlds. I don’t need to remind you of that, right? Or does the honorable Mr. Hawthorne regret and want to come back?"
"Regret? Ann Vaughn, you’ve admired Sutton Jennings for fifteen years and ended up marrying me; it seems I still haven’t settled this account with you!"
Admired Sutton Jennings for fifteen years?
Upon hearing this, Ann Vaughn almost laughed in anger, glaring at him with cold eyes, "So what? Whoever I love, it will never be you—what business is it of yours!"
The tense atmosphere between the two made the servant who was delivering items withdraw their steps immediately, staying far away to avoid getting caught up.
Uncle Dexter, waiting for the servant to return, quickly asked, "What’s going on upstairs? Are they really arguing?"
The servant nodded vigorously, "The argument is fierce; it might not settle down for quite a while."
"What are they arguing about?"
The servant relayed what they overheard truthfully, and Uncle Dexter paused for a moment, then his old eyes widened.
He initially thought it was a coincidence; after all, how could someone who died four years ago suddenly come back?
But this Miss Vaughn is indeed Young Master’s wife, Ann Vaughn!
Uncle Dexter restrained his excitement, took his phone, went outside, and immediately made a call to Cloudmere Manor.
The heart’s knot of Old Master Hawthorne and Young Master over these past few years was all tied to Young Madam; now that Young Madam is back, perhaps it might unravel the knot between the grandfather and grandson.
Upstairs in the room.
Cyrus Hawthorne walked out of the master bedroom with a somber expression, pausing when he saw Uncle Dexter waiting by the side, "What’s the matter?"
"Young Master, Old Master wants you to bring Young Madam over quickly," Uncle Dexter replied respectfully.
"When her leg injury heals, I’ll make arrangements."
"Yes, I will comfort Old Master carefully," Uncle Dexter knew Old Master Hawthorne truly saw Young Madam as his own granddaughter.
Otherwise, after knowing everything that Young Master did four years ago, he wouldn’t have nearly severed the grandfather-grandson relationship.
For these few years, Old Master has been indifferent to Young Master, ignoring his well-being, and refusing to see him; their relationship was extremely strained.
Uncle Dexter cared for Young Master on his own accord, fearing lest something happened to him.
Cyrus Hawthorne hummed softly, thinking of the little woman in the room, whose wound was aching with anger, his brow furrowed in pain.
"Young Master," Uncle Dexter looked at the expression on Cyrus Hawthorne’s face and sighed, "Girls aren’t pursued in this manner."
It’s known Uncle Dexter was aware, Cyrus Hawthorne had waited for a woman since childhood; putting aside that he hadn’t had any romantic experiences.
He barely interacts with the opposite sex.
Uncle Dexter had lingered on the worry that if Cyrus Hawthorne kept everyone at a distance, perhaps he might never find a wife.
Thanks to Miss Annie, who else would endure his terrible temper?
If he doesn’t coax people and instead acts fierce, is he not afraid she’ll leave?
Thinking of this, Uncle Dexter looked at him disappointedly, "Young Master, Miss Annie isn’t like those women who would stick to you. Acting like this only pushes her further away."
Cyrus Hawthorne’s long, dark eyes flashed with a trace of uncertainty, his lips pursed without saying anything.
After a considerable time, he hoarsely asked, "What should I do?"
Giving her his whole heart, is it enough to make her stay with him?
"This can’t be rushed, you need to take your time, put your heart into it."
Uncle Dexter sighed heavily, his Young Master in the business realm is a king, yet in matters of love, a novice; he has to be patient.
Inside the room, Ann Vaughn was rubbing her leg, having not heard the conversation outside due to excellent soundproofing.
Though she had spoken in anger, most of what she said were her true feelings.
However, her original plan to use Cyrus Hawthorne to infiltrate the research institute was now unfeasible.
If she made him so angry, it’s already fortunate Cyrus Hawthorne doesn’t want to kill her; how could she expect to execute a plan against him?
Yet she couldn’t endure it.
The harrowing experience four years ago nearly led to a miscarriage and had deeply scarred her, a scar on her heart that seemed nominally fine but tortured with unbearable pain upon the slightest touch.
Though she couldn’t forget, she forced herself not to care; otherwise, four years ago, she might have died.
Ann Vaughn took a deep breath, forcing down the bitterness in her eyes, letting her emotions gradually settle.
Either way, her leg injury isn’t healed, and without discovering clues or gaining leverage over Cyrus Hawthorne, staying here had become unnecessary.
Having applied medicine to her wound and administered a session of acupuncture on her legs, Ann Vaughn turned her wheelchair and left the room.
As night deepened.
Once the villa’s lights extinguished entirely, Ann Vaughn departed the room, quietly slipping out of the villa.
Even in a wheelchair, her mobility remained unhindered.
She bypassed the front entrance, heading instead to the spot where she had climbed over the wall last time, having overlooked a low hole beneath covered by flower vines.
After all, the villa didn’t have any dogs.
Ann Vaughn pushed the vines aside, feeling the ache in her knees, ready to crawl through the low hole.
Suddenly, her collar was lifted by a hand.
"Ah!" Ann Vaughn exclaimed, belatedly covering her mouth.
But it was too late, as a low, eerily cold voice rang out behind her, "Ann Vaughn, where are you planning to go?"
"Wherever I go is none of your concern!" Ann Vaughn’s delicate arms struggled, failing to break free, and instead, she was embraced against him.
Ann Vaughn’s hand pressed against his chest, trying to push him away, her pretty face showing disdain, "If you don’t let me go, I’ll accuse you of harassment, believe it or not!"
"You can try," Cyrus Hawthorne said coldly, without wanting to argue, carrying her back into the villa, ordering the servants following behind, "Block up the hole."
"Yes!!"
The low hole was blocked; does it mean she can’t climb the wall anymore?
Ann Vaughn’s heart sneered coldly, if she wishes to leave, he can’t stop her.
From the way to the master bedroom, Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression remained stern, until stepping inside, he pressed her against the doorboard aggressively, his thin lips only centimeters from her soft earlobe.