Perhaps it was because of the words "A healer’s heart is benevolent" that his grandfather always repeated to him, or perhaps it was because so of his suffering was partly due to her.
That’s why she didn’t take action, not because... she had forgiven him for everything he did in the past.
For four whole years, every ti she awoke in the middle of the night, she could see that sharp surgical knife gleaming coldly, and feel her entire body go numb and powerless.
It hurt so much.
Ann Vaughn didn’t raise her head, her small hand pressed firmly on the spot on her abdon where a scar remained from the slice of the surgical knife.
She deliberately didn’t remove it, so she would rember.
But why, if Cyrus Hawthorne was dead, should she not be overjoyed, and feel relief?
Why did she panic so much that she almost couldn’t hold the Golden Needle steady, her heart in such disarray?
Ann Vaughn, what on earth are you doing?
A ridiculous thought vaguely surfaced in her mind, not content with just being suppressed by Ann but needing to be furiously stomped back into the soil.
"Ding —"
The elevator arrived at the floor of Ann Vaughn’s ward; exhausted, she returned to the room where Kenny and Sherry were still sleeping, yet a cup of warm milk appeared on the table.
Ann Vaughn forced a smile, picked up the milk, and drank it, soothing her sore stomach considerably.
She tiptoed back to bed, instinctively took her phone to open WeChat, froze when she reached Cyrus Hawthorne, then swiped left, deleting his chat as if it could erase the sound.
Exiting the app, Ann Vaughn saw the SMS indicator showing ninety-nine ssages, assuming it was so spam, she prepared to delete them in bulk.
But when she saw the content of the ssages, her brows furrowed deeply.
"Miss Vaughn, this is Rowley, the doctor who operated on you four years ago. Please et with ."
"I have sothing very important to tell you, only you can save , I beg of you to et with ."
"I am a gynecologist from Saint Roland Hospital in M Country, this is my identification, you can check it if you don’t believe . [Image]"
"Whether you agree or not, I will be at Cretan’s Restaurant awaiting your presence."
More than fifty ssages, each with different content and tis.
This gynecologist nad "Rowley" had been trying to contact her for days without calling to disturb her, instead sending texts pleading for a eting.
After the recent kidnapping incident, Ann was suspicious of his identity, and given his urgent tone, it seed like sothing was pressing on him.
Ann Vaughn recalled the conversation she’d overheard outside the hospital escape route four years ago, her eyes coldly mocking; how could she want to see such an executioner?
With that thought, Ann placed her phone aside, closed her eyes, and slipped into sleep.
Two days later.
After a physical check-up for Ann Vaughn, the doctors couldn’t help but marvel, "You’re the fastest-recovering patient I’ve ever seen from inside and out; does it have sothing to do with the herbal dicine your elders gave you?"
It normally takes a hundred days to fully recover from severe injuries, yet Ann Vaughn was almost back to normal in three days.
Sherry laughed so hard that wrinkles appeared at her eyes, "It’s good that you’re well; these few days of suffering weren’t for nothing."
Thinking of the herbal dicine she had been drinking, Ann’s mouth still tasted bitter, and she pouted a little, feeling slightly aggrieved.
She had wanted to take pills directly, but Sherry insisted that the pills weren’t as effective as the herbal concoction, forcing her to drink it.
"Alright then, I’ll make you a big al in a few days, so don’t pout that little face." Sherry lovingly pinched Ann’s cheek, smiling as she spoke.
Beside them, Sutton Jennings, who was helping pack up, chuckled softly, feeling a sense of joy at seeing Ann being cherished.
But thinking of the Vaughn couple who were exiled, Sutton frowned; though Ann had never ntioned it, had she really let go?
Ann Vaughn didn’t notice Sutton Jennings’s concern; she giggled and scooted over to Sherry, offering to help carry things, "Sherry is the best!"
"You, when Kenny’s here, you say Kenny’s the best; when he’s not, you say I’m the best. Such a little rascal." Sherry sighed, amused.
Fortunately, the little one was at kindergarten, or he’d get jealous if he heard this.
After packing up, Sutton went to handle the discharge procedures, asking Ann and Sherry to wait for him in the hall.
It was then that Ann saw Mark Joyce coming from the hall, her brows involuntarily twitching.
"Miss Vaughn, you’re being discharged, congratulations." Mark Joyce greeted her with a smile.
Ann Vaughn nodded slightly, "Thank you."
"By the way, President Hawthorne has woken up, it’s just..."
"Sorry, Special Assistant Joyce, we have a few other matters to attend to, so let’s not trouble you further, goodbye!" Ann abruptly cut off Mark Joyce, quickly finishing her sentence, then pulled Sherry away.
Leaving Mark Joyce standing there bewildered.
He wasn’t so threat, why did Miss Vaughn seem keen to get away from him?
Moreover, he hadn’t had the chance to ask why she experienced such severe side effects post-surgery...
Ann Vaughn didn’t care what Mark Joyce thought, pulling Sherry straight out of the hospital and into the car, her heart racing inexplicably.
"What’s up? Do you have friends in the hospital too?" Sherry noticed Ann’s flushed face, "You ran so fast, your face is all red."
"No friends, that guy’s a fraud, just ignore him," said Ann absently, pressing the back of her hand to her cheek, sure enough, it was hot.
She bit her lower lip, a flash of annoyance in her eyes; why was she even flustered?
Sherry nodded earnestly, rembering the man’s face carefully, planning to watch out next ti.
"Knock-knock."
Suddenly, the window on this side of the car was lightly tapped a few tis.
Ann looked up in confusion, spotting Jane Sheridan smiling at her and mouthing "Could you please co out for a mont?"
Ann stepped out of the car, walking a few steps before asking, "What do you need from ?"
"I’ll get straight to the point." Jane crossed her arms, her face calm as she looked at Ann, "Ann Vaughn, because of your diagnostic error, Mr. Hawthorne’s body suffers from significant aftereffects. I had to ask nicely for his mother not to hold you responsible."
"So?" Ann’s lips curled with indifference, "Did you co to ask for my gratitude?"
Aftereffects?
After the acupuncture, she ticulously checked Cyrus Hawthorne, and apart from his internal deficiencies needing gradual recovery, there were no abnormalities.
Unless she witnessed it herself, she wouldn’t believe a single word of Jane Sheridan’s one-sided claim.
Jane smiled faintly, her gaze sharp as she continued.
"I know you carry the pride of being an internationally renowned Divine Doctor, but your pride hard a patient of unusual status, so I suggest you have a bit of sha."
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