Could she really be that loose-lipped?
After Cyrus Hawthorne left the bathroom, he saw Ann Vaughn with a face full of self-doubt, and a light chuckle escaped his thin lips.
"What are you thinking about again?"
Ann Vaughn noticed he used the word "again," gazed at him for a mont, and hesitantly asked, "Did I do a lot of stupid things last night?"
"No."
On the contrary, you were adorably clingy.
"Did I say anything strange?"
"Like what?"
"...Never mind, I won’t ask." Seeing his attempt to elicit information, Ann Vaughn’s little face went numb, then she turned around and walked out of the room.
Suddenly she rembered sothing, turned back to Cyrus Hawthorne, and said, "Regarding the docunt, why did you have sign it?"
Cyrus Hawthorne suddenly raised his eyebrows, looking at her with a slight hint of surprise, "You expressed your desire to join the research institute last night but didn’t want to be my assistant, so I had to arrange another position for you."
It made perfect sense, without any flaws.
Every word seed to pierce Ann Vaughn’s heart.
She genuinely believed she had acted foolishly last night.
Otherwise, knowing Cyrus Hawthorne’s usual shrewd and wise character, if he had discovered anything, he would never have proactively brought this docunt for her to sign, right?
From this perspective, she actually gained from it.
Thinking about it, Ann Vaughn felt much lighter at heart, turned, and left the master bedroom.
She didn’t see the sudden deepening smile on Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips, watching her back as if looking at prey already locked up.
After breakfast, Cyrus Hawthorne personally watched Ann Vaughn finish the sobering soup before heading to work.
Having drunk so much alcohol last night, Ann Vaughn’s head was still throbbing with pain. She went upstairs to call Sherry, briefly informing her about the contract signed with Cyrus Hawthorne.
Before long, she fell into a deep sleep.
When Ann Vaughn woke up, it was already after dusk, with golden hues pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, beautiful like a dream.
She got up, walked to the window, and looked downstairs but didn’t see Cyrus Hawthorne’s car.
Which worked just fine for her.
In the study.
Ann Vaughn placed the USB drive she had taken from here last ti near the foot of the sofa, making it look like it had accidentally fallen, then clapped her hands and walked towards the circular bookshelf embedded in the wall.
One had to admit, the number of books Cyrus Hawthorne owned rivaled almost half of The Imperial Capital Library.
Judging by the books Ann Vaughn had browsed through so far, each one had notes on it, indicating that Cyrus Hawthorne had read them all.
Ann Vaughn replaced the book in her hand back on the shelf, intending to leave, when she saw a small corner sticking out from the top of the bookcase.
It seed sothing was hidden.
She stood on the sliding ladder, reached out, and pulled the object down.
It was a vintage small iron box.
Could it contain photos, like pictures of Cyrus Hawthorne as a child wearing crotchless pants?
Ann Vaughn raised an eyebrow with so amusent, then used the Golden Needle to pick the lock on the box.
"Rustle" went the sound, as a stack of papers fell out of the box.
Seeing the lab report on the topmost sheet, Ann Vaughn’s eyes paused for a mont, then she picked up the paper.
Uterine fibroid deterioration...
Reading the diagnosis on the lab report, Ann Vaughn’s fine brows began to knit together, and the patient was a pregnant woman.
For so unknown reason, her heart suddenly skipped a beat.
"Miss Vaughn, are you up? Dinner is ready," Uncle Dexter’s voice ca from outside.
"Uncle Dexter, I’m in the study reading, I’ll be down shortly." Ann Vaughn snapped back to reality, quickly organizing the papers back into the small iron box, then returned it to its original place.
After finishing everything, she couldn’t help but glance again at the iron box’s location before leaving the study.
At that mont, Cyrus Hawthorne had just returned from the company, handing his coat to Uncle Dexter as he asked in a deep voice, "How is she today?"
"Miss Vaughn slept all day and was just reading in the study, now she’s in the dining room," Uncle Dexter replied with an amiable smile.
As long as Miss Vaughn was here, the young master would co ho on ti, instead of being so busy at the company he’d forget to eat.
That’s indeed very good.
Cyrus Hawthorne gave a slight nod, changed clothes upstairs, and headed to the dining room.
Tonight’s dishes were still prepared according to Ann Vaughn’s preferences, filling the table abundantly with an almost ridiculous richness.
Uncle Dexter kept urging Ann Vaughn to eat more, almost making it impossible for her to stop using her chopsticks; every ti she stopped, Uncle Dexter would complain she was too thin.
Ann Vaughn rubbed her slightly bloated tummy with tears in her eyes, realizing that the elders’ love ant she was too skinny and needed to eat more.
Just then, as Ann Vaughn was about to reach for the chicken and mushroom stew in the middle of the table, she suddenly froze, and a scene flashed through her mind.
"Do you plan to make into chicken and mushroom stew?"
"If you don’t behave, I’ll let you taste the real chicken and mushroom stew."
Ann Vaughn: ???
Seeing her staring at the chicken and mushroom stew in a daze, Uncle Dexter pushed the dish in front of her kindly, "Miss Vaughn, I heard the young master say you love this dish."
"No, no, I don’t like it at all, I hate chicken and mushrooms the most!" Ann Vaughn almost shook her head like a rattle to clear herself of suspicion, looking at the white porcelain bowl with a face full of resistance.
From now on, this dish officially entered her blacklist.
Suddenly, a deep magnetic laugh entered Ann Vaughn’s ears, "Uncle Dexter, take this dish away. She probably won’t want to eat it for the rest of her life."
Uncle Dexter looked puzzled, but didn’t ask anything, signaling the servants to take the chicken and mushroom stew away.
With her face almost buried in the bowl, Ann Vaughn saw Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes full of light laughter, before he sat down, "Is your head still aching?"
"It’s fine." Ann Vaughn’s mind kept replaying the embarrassing scene of her pretending to be a mushroom last night, wishing she could ascend to the heavens on the spot.
Doing such silly things in front of others could be tolerable, but it had to be Cyrus Hawthorne!
At this mont, she didn’t have the mind to ponder why it couldn’t be Cyrus Hawthorne.
Ann Vaughn put down her chopsticks and started to leave, "I’m full."
Before she could leave, a warm, clean hand caught her wrist, causing her to turn and see Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes fixed on her.
"Sit down and have a al with ."
"My ti is very precious, alright? Why should I have to accompany you to eat?" Ann Vaughn unwillingly shook his hand off.
"Ten Shadow Disappearing Grass plants."
Ann Vaughn: !!!
She instantly sat back down in her seat with a poise as proper as a well-behaved child in kindergarten.
Cyrus Hawthorne involuntarily pressed his fist to his lips, suppressing the faint smile.
Unless necessary, he rarely spoke while dining; his manners were elegant and reserved, and apart from the faint clinking of cutlery, there was almost no sound, showcasing his strict upbringing.
No matter how you looked at it, he was as pleasing to the eye as a painting.
But in Ann Vaughn’s eyes, even if it were a painting, it would be one stained with blood.
While biting her straw of juice, she couldn’t help but think of the lab report she’d seen in the study earlier.
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