But Ann Vaughn inexplicably felt a kind of... dependence from him that never existed before?!
This left Ann Vaughn montarily dumbfounded, and she suddenly recalled the words Jane Sheridan said when she ca to see her.
She said that due to her mistake, Cyrus Hawthorne’s situation was dire, could it be referring to...
His head had a problem?!
Ann Vaughn stood there in deep thought for a long ti, until soone lightly pinched her palm twice, the tickling brought her back to reality as she looked into Cyrus Hawthorne’s deep, penetrating eyes and sighed.
"Co inside with ."
Fortunately, Kenny went to the next room, otherwise, he would have almost run into Cyrus Hawthorne...
Taking advantage of the mont when Cyrus Hawthorne was changing shoes in the hallway, Ann Vaughn quickly sent a ssage to Kenny, finally letting out a slow breath of relief.
But she had just exhaled that breath when she found herself once again being embraced from behind.
The top of her head was lightly brushed by his chin.
Ann Vaughn imdiately took a deep breath, instinctively breaking free from his embrace, her eyes warily watching him, "Wait here for and don’t move, also, stop touching casually!"
Even though she couldn’t figure out what was going on with him, he could forget about taking advantage of her!
Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes slightly lifted, looking at her with a hint of unwillingness as he responded, "Oh."
Ann Vaughn nearly gasped.
What was with that look as if she were so kind of unfaithful lover???
Without further contention, Ann Vaughn walked into the bedroom and locked the door behind her, then called Mark Joyce.
As soon as she dialed, it was picked up almost instantly, and a worried voice from Mark Joyce spoke, "Miss Vaughn, have you seen President Hawthorne? He’s suddenly gone missing!"
Ann Vaughn pressed her temples with so headache, "He’s here with ... Jane Sheridan ca to see today, saying that due to my mistake, Cyrus Hawthorne’s situation is very bad, what’s going on?"
Mark Joyce was forced to go against Laura Quinn’s orders to keep the matter sealed, and told the truth: "Miss Vaughn, the doctor said President Hawthorne lost part of his mory due to brain stimulation, he doesn’t even rember Mrs. Hawthorne and Old Master Hawthorne."
Amnesia?!
Ann Vaughn’s bright eyes widened, her already tangled thoughts becoming even more chaotic, she gulped uncertainly, "Could it be a misdiagnosis? Cyrus Hawthorne seems to rember ?"
Could it be that Jane Sheridan wasn’t just scaring her?
But how could a perfectly fine person suddenly experience amnesia? When she was performing acupuncture on Cyrus Hawthorne, she didn’t notice this abnormality, could it be a residual effect of a virus?
And she didn’t know if it was just her illusion, Cyrus Hawthorne’s gaze after amnesia... seed sowhat peculiar.
Mark Joyce was silent after hearing this, as soone who had been by President Hawthorne’s side for eleven years only to be forgotten, he felt tears of bitterness welling up.
"The doctor perford a brain MRI on President Hawthorne, which ruled out the possibility of a diagnostic error."
"As to why President Hawthorne rembers you, I just asked the doctor, perhaps in the remaining mory, the part concerning Miss Vaughn is the most profound."
"In any case, I would like to ask for your help to temporarily look after President Hawthorne, until we find a way to restore his mory."
After the call was disconnected, Ann Vaughn put away her phone, frowning with complex emotions in her eyes.
If Jane Sheridan’s previous words held true, then Cyrus Hawthorne’s current situation is indeed dire.
Patients with amnesia often develop a defensive and resistant attitude towards their environnt, and if their level is around seventy percent, Cyrus Hawthorne’s is maxed out.
He doesn’t trust the world, nor does he trust himself.
But why... does he rember her specifically.
Ann Vaughn stood there for quite a long ti before pushing open the door, stepping out, and seeing the man still standing in the living room like a beautiful sculpture.
She glanced at the sofa beside him and froze for a few seconds, "Why are you standing there?"
Cyrus Hawthorne raised his eyes to look at her, his expression calm and devoid of any oddity, with a hint of grievance in his cool voice, "You said so."
What did she say?
Ann Vaughn was flustered for a few seconds before rembering the words she said out of anger right before going into the bedroom, rendering her speechless.
She was just saying it, she didn’t literally an for him to be punished by standing!
The atmosphere in the living room inexplicably beca sowhat stagnant, the two staring eye-to-eye for quite a while before Ann Vaughn finally spoke to break the silence, "Do you want to eat sothing?"
According to Mark Joyce, he had locked himself in the ward, refusing to let anyone inside, and hadn’t touched the food delivered to him.
Given his vigilance, he wouldn’t eat food given by "strangers" either, for fear of it being poisoned.
Thinking of this, Ann Vaughn frowned with annoyance, then said, "Never mind, I was just saying—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Cyrus Hawthorne nodded, "Chicken noodle soup, please."
Ann Vaughn: "....."
Is he really suffering from amnesia or is he just teaming up with Mark Joyce to ss with her?
Holding onto these suspicions, Ann Vaughn let Cyrus Hawthorne sit on the sofa, handed him the remote, and found a random movie to keep him distracted.
Then she walked into the kitchen, narrowed her eyes at the chilies in the fridge.
She rembered that Cyrus Hawthorne never ate spicy food; he always preferred light dishes.
This habit of his was not obvious, because whenever he ate, spicy food was present on the table, making it hard to discern his preferences and dislikes.
Ann Vaughn, on the other hand, loved spicy food to no end, and Kenny’s tastes followed hers, so she always added chilies when cooking.
Whether Cyrus Hawthorne was truly amnesiac or faking it, would soon be clear.
Ann Vaughn reached for the red-hot chilies, tied her apron, and began brewing the soup.
In no ti, the kitchen filled with the mouthwatering aroma of chicken soup, just slling it invoked imaginations of its delicious taste.
After about ten minutes, Ann Vaughn dished out the silky noodles, sprinkled with green onions, layered with shredded chicken, and poured on the alluring chicken broth.
The masterpiece was complete!
She placed the chicken noodle soup and two small dishes on the dining table, glancing towards the living room.
The man sat at the edge of the sofa armrest, resting his strong jaw on one hand, his handso face glowing under the lights, his long elegant lashes gently fluttering, casting a shadow near his nose.
His lips were beautifully shaped, but the pale color made them look sowhat cold.
Even though the screen displayed Crayon Shin-chan, he watched with such focused seriousness that it gave the feeling he was watching important financial news instead of a cartoon.
Ann Vaughn was unknowingly captivated by the sight until he suddenly turned his head, eting her gaze directly.
Thump, thump-thump—
The heart-stirring sound of a heartbeat echoed in her ears, making Ann Vaughn hurriedly avert her eyes, pretending to be calm as she said to him, "The noodles are ready, co and eat."
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