In addition, he has always exercised great control over his alcohol intake, restraining himself and never crossing the line. Therefore, he rarely gets drunk.
But a scene like tonight’s loss of control... it only happened four years ago, after Ann Vaughn "died."
Julian Ford and Evan Sawyer exchanged a glance and suddenly understood sothing.
Indeed, there’s only one Ann Vaughn in this world who can make Cyrus Hawthorne lose control like this.
"His right hand is still injured. Dr. Silas Lowell advised against smoke and alcohol. If he keeps drinking like this... it won’t help his wound heal," Evan Sawyer pinched the bridge of his nose. He’s had quite a bit to drink himself, and things were already looking blurry.
"Then why don’t you try talking to him?"
"...Are you trying to get killed?"
When The Archfiend is in a bad mood, anyone who approaches is just digging their own grave. They wouldn’t even get to choose their own burial site.
Julian Ford put on a bitter face. Suddenly, his phone beeped. It was a text from Mark Joyce.
After reading the text ssage, Julian Ford’s expression imdiately darkened.
"What’s wrong?"
Julian Ford handed his phone over to Evan Sawyer. After reading it, Evan couldn’t help but curse.
"Where did Warren Vance co from? Our informants didn’t have any flight information on him!"
"Isn’t this just crazy? No wonder our brother is so angry. If it were , I would have killed soone by now..." Julian Ford shuddered, picked up his phone, and walked over to Cyrus Hawthorne.
"Bro." Julian Ford kicked away the pile of empty bottles by the sofa, sat down, and said to Cyrus Hawthorne, "I think there’s a misunderstanding between you and sis-in-law."
Cyrus Hawthorne raised his eyes slightly, and his glance, as cold as ice, betrayed no emotional fluctuation.
The look was icy cold, penetrating to the bone. Julian Ford’s hand shook as he reached for a bottle.
"I think, sis-in-law was trapped in Gothasen by Warren Vance for so long, holding the title of Princess, revered by everyone across the nation. Even if she wanted to act with impunity in Gothasen, nobody dared to say a word against her... wasn’t such a life comfortable?"
"Cut the crap," Cyrus Hawthorne’s voice was hoarse, tinged with impatience.
Julian Ford continued with a cheeky grin: "But sis-in-law ultimately gave up the honor, power, and status Warren Vance offered and chose to return to the country. If she really liked Warren Vance, she wouldn’t have done that."
Evan Sawyer ca over at this point, snickering at the words, "Don’t forget, sis-in-law has amnesia now."
"Sis-in-law didn’t fall for Warren Vance before she lost her mory; why would she after? With our brother being so remarkable, could sis-in-law possibly have eyes for anyone else??"
"That makes sense, so... maybe there’s so misunderstanding here?"
The two bantered back and forth like a cody act, which gave Cyrus Hawthorne a headache and made him speak coldly: "Shut up."
When The Archfiend is angry, it is scary to stand up to him is no joke.
But Ann Vaughn was good to the Ford Family; if Julian Ford didn’t say at least a few words on her behalf at this mont, would he even be human?
"Bro, I think you should go talk to sis-in-law and clear up the issue; drinking here won’t solve anything..."
Halfway through his words, Julian Ford shut his mouth under Cyrus Hawthorne’s icy glare.
He was truly struggling QAQ.
"Bro, Mark Joyce said you locked sis-in-law in a room by herself?" Evan Sawyer said disapprovingly, "What if sothing happens to sis-in-law while she’s in there alone, you won’t have ti to regret it later."
However, after he said this, Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression turned even more indifferent than before.
"Her life or death is no longer any of my business," he replied coolly.
Hearing this, Evan Sawyer and Julian Ford exchanged a glance, their expressions filled with shock.
Well shit... things have really escalated now.
As the atmosphere grew tense, Cyrus Hawthorne’s phone rang on the table.
Julian Ford glanced at it and rembered it was the landline number for room 8.
But seeing that Cyrus Hawthorne seed to have no intention of picking it up, he said, "Bro, the call is from room 8; there might be sothing urgent. Would you mind if I answer it for you?"
Cyrus Hawthorne tapped the rim of his glass with his long fingers, his icy dark eyes narrowing slightly. He neither nodded nor said anything.
Julian Ford mustered up the courage to pick up his phone and pressed the answer button.
The next second, the panicked voice of the maid ca from the other side: "Mr. Hawthorne, sothing’s wrong! We just heard sothing shatter in the master bedroom, but no matter how much we knocked, Miss Vaughn inside didn’t respond. We had no choice but to climb in through the window to see the situation in the master bedroom."
"Only to find Miss Vaughn collapsed beside the bed, completely unresponsive despite our calls, and we can’t get inside. What should we..."
Before the maid could finish speaking, the phone was suddenly snatched away forcefully.
Cyrus Hawthorne, holding the phone, stepped over the bottles scattered on the floor and strode towards the private room door.
If not closely observed, one would hardly notice a hint of anxiety in his departing form.
"The room password is 1016. Call Dr. Silas Lowell to go over; I’ll be there soon."
As the sound faded away, Julian Ford and Evan Sawyer ca back to their senses, looking at the already empty private room doorway with expressions that were hard to describe.
"Didn’t our brother say he didn’t care about sis-in-law’s life or death?"
"Did you really think Hawthorne could harden his heart against sis-in-law? Even the room he locked her in had her birthday as the password," Evan Sawyer chuckled, taking a step to follow, "Let’s go quickly; he drank so much just now, we can’t let him drive."
"Are you stupid? He brought a driver."
"Do you think he has the patience to let the driver slowly drive him back under these circumstances?"
They were well aware of Cyrus Hawthorne’s racing skills.
Recalling the scene, Julian Ford felt a chill run through him and quickly followed suit.
Half an hour later, a black Maybach parked steadily in the garage of room 8.
Because of Ann Vaughn lying unconscious inside, the entire room 8 was already in chaos.
Breeze was the most flustered. He was about to board a plane, but before reaching the security checkpoint, Silas Lowell was intercepted by Hex and taken away like a prisoner.
Onlookers at the airport were gawking at him as if he were a dangerous criminal.
One can only imagine how frantic he was feeling.
And it only got worse.
Hex and his team urgently brought Breeze back without explaining Ann Vaughn’s condition, leading Breeze to think she was dying of so incurable disease, putting him on edge.
However, after anxiously checking on Ann Vaughn, he found she rely had a fever!
Just a fever!
Breeze felt like dying; any doctor could have treated such a minor condition. Was it necessary to go through such a hassle to bring him back?!
Breeze gave Ann Vaughn an antipyretic injection, then took several packets of dicine from the dical kit and handed them to the maid.
"Simr for two and a half hours over a low fla, not a minute more or less. Once it’s ready, take it up to her and feed it to her."
"Yes, Dr. Silas Lowell," the maid took the dicine and promptly went to follow the instructions.
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