After an exceptionally long and punitive kiss, Cyrus Hawthorne released Ann Vaughn, who was already flushed and nearly breathless, slumping into his arms, letting him handle her as he wished.
Ann Vaughn glared at him fiercely, "Is this what you call a reward?"
"Your relationship with Warren Vance seems quite good," Cyrus Hawthorne evaded the question, his long fingers lifting the necklace around her neck, his expression obscure, "The symbol of Crown Prince Gothasen, and he gives it to you."
The symbol of Crown Prince Gothasen?
Ann Vaughn blinked, looking at the pendant on the necklace, her slender eyebrows furrowing.
She reached behind her neck, fumbled for a while, and took off the necklace.
"Warren Vance said this necklace carried his aura and could suppress the curse in my bloodline," Ann Vaughn loosened her grip, letting the necklace sway on her fingertips, then carefully explained the cause of the red marks that had appeared on her face before.
Cyrus Hawthorne did not show any surprise, as if he had already known.
There’s no denying that Warren Vance played a good move.
Even though Ann Vaughn knew this necklace was the symbol of Crown Prince Gothasen, she couldn’t refuse it.
Because it was currently the only thod to suppress the curse in her blood.
And Cyrus Hawthorne, equally unwilling for her to suffer the pain of the curse’s first outbreak again.
Just ...
Cyrus Hawthorne took the necklace from Ann Vaughn’s fingertips and gave it a gentle flick, tossing it into the nearby trash can.
Ann Vaughn gasped in surprise, about to sit up when Cyrus Hawthorne pressed her back into his arms.
"There are other ways, aren’t there?" His voice was low and deep, particularly enticing.
Realizing what he was implying, Ann Vaughn’s cheeks flad uncontrollably, she covered them with a hand, embarrassed and furious, "But I can’t just run to you every ti it flares up, can I?!"
Susie Somrs really guessed it right.
The thod to break the curse was either to carry a personal belonging with Warren Vance’s aura or—
Just the thought made Ann Vaughn feel thoroughly embarrassed.
Before she could fully process it, Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression had already turned cold.
"Seems I was too gentle with you last night," Cyrus Hawthorne stood up, clutching the embarrassed little one in his arms, heading towards the lounge, his words dangerous: "Don’t beg for rcy later."
Ann Vaughn: ???
...
Secretarial office.
Joyce Chancellor lay on her desk, crying pitifully. Other ladies in the secretarial office comforted her for a while. Seeing she wouldn’t stop, they let her be.
Which of them wasn’t carefully selected by the personnel departnt, going through rigorous screening to work in this office?
Without top-notch ability and excellent professional skills, it’s impossible to stay at the pinnacle of the Hawthorne Corp., handling President Hawthorne’s affairs.
The environnt made them extrely strict with themselves, striving for excellence from docunt checking to serving tea.
But ever since Joyce Chancellor arrived, the secretarial office often underwent a wave of criticism. If she made a mistake, the whole office would be blad.
No matter how sweet Joyce’s words or how she pleased everyone, dealing with a person like her would fatigue anyone over ti.
Mark Joyce entered the secretarial office, knocking on Joyce Chancellor’s desk, "Stop crying, rember to resign, you don’t need to co tomorrow."
Joyce Chancellor raised her tear-streaked face to look at him.
"Special Assistant Joyce, do you also think I did wrong?"
"..." Mark Joyce was montarily speechless, cried this long and still didn’t realize her mistake?
"Just practical analysis, regardless of whether you deliberately slipped the newspaper in the files, from your performance over the month, there’s much for you to learn. I’ve said all I should, look after yourself."
Not giving Joyce Chancellor a chance to argue, Mark Joyce turned and left.
The other secretaries exchanged glances.
Rumors said Joyce Chancellor had hinted she was related to Mark Joyce, but now the situation seed awkward.
"Ah! The newspaper Assistant Joyce ntioned, it couldn’t be the one with Miss Vaughn and Crown Prince Gothasen, right?"
"How do you know it’s that one?"
"I saw Joyce take the newspaper out of her bag when I passed behind her."
"She wouldn’t have slipped it in the docunts to let President Hawthorne see, would she?!"
"Damn, what’s her motive, trying to stir trouble between President Hawthorne and Miss Vaughn?"
The gossip around was relentless, nearly making Joyce Chancellor unable to lift her head, she restrained the resentnt and fury in her heart, gathering her belongings.
Just a minor issue, did Cyrus Hawthorne need to be so cruel to her?
Her status was lowered for being his secretary here, and he didn’t appreciate it; instead, he treated her this way...
She definitely wasn’t going to let this go!
...
When Ann Vaughn woke up, it was already dark outside; the trees in the courtyard were blown aside, likely about to rain.
Having tossed about too long in the lounge, she had no recollection of returning to Number 8, her mind rather muddled.
She got up, showered, went downstairs, and on the second floor, she encountered Ian Yardley coming out of his room in his wheelchair.
"Hello, sister-in-law," Ian Yardley greeted Ann Vaughn cheerfully, extraordinarily friendly.
Ann Vaughn was a bit surprised, then nodded, "Good evening."
Ian Yardley maneuvered his wheelchair to her, looking up sincerely, "I’ll be living here for a long while, if anything causes inconvenience to you, please do let know, I’ll rectify it."
Ian Yardley was the trending puppy-type boy, obedient and handso, even his hair seed soft, his voice deliberately gentle, irresistibly cute.
"Sure, hope you enjoy staying here," Ann Vaughn didn’t go for too much politeness. Not knowing each other well, saying more felt odd.
Plus, his initial hostility towards her didn’t make her warm up to him.
After speaking, Ann Vaughn proceeded downstairs.
She then heard Ian Yardley’s sudden cry from behind.
"Ah—"
Ann Vaughn turned, seeing Ian Yardley and his wheelchair falling off the platform.
She swiftly reached to stabilize the wheelchair, gripping his collar to haul him and the wheelchair back to the platform.
Ian Yardley evidently didn’t expect her quick reflex and surprising strength, montarily stunned.
"Th-thank you, sister-in-law, that almost turned dangerous." Adjusting his expression, Ian Yardley flashed a grateful smile at Ann Vaughn.
Ann Vaughn gave him a aningful glance, "Indeed. There’s an elevator over there; it’d be better for you to use it given your mobility issues."
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