The living room sofa at Villa No. 8 at the sa ti.
A popular suspense detective series starring Wilder Sheridan was playing on the embedded LCD TV on the wall. A large and a small figure sat at opposite ends of the sofa, one holding a fruit platter watching TV, the other focused on reviewing files. The atmosphere seed harmonious.
"Young master, little master!" Uncle Dexter walked into the living room holding a tablet, then showed them the screen, "Miss Vaughn seems to have accidentally entered Best Actress Bellamy’s livestream, causing quite a stir."
Uncle Dexter was a big fan of Quinn, especially fond of her movies. So when he heard she would be livestreaming, he eagerly waited in front of the screen, cheering her on like the younger fans.
Unexpectedly, halfway through, he saw Ann Vaughn enter Quinn’s room, exposing the fact that the flowers in her room were poisonous. The barrage of insults on the comnt section made Uncle Dexter fu with anger.
He grabbed the keyboard and fired back at those young people.
Cyrus Hawthorne looked up at Uncle Dexter, then put down his pen and took the tablet he handed over.
He imdiately noticed that the little dumpling who had been sitting far away had already snuggled up next to him, his thin lips curling into an imperceptible smile.
The scene on the tablet was a replay, and due to editing, it only showed the part where Ann Vaughn entered Quinn’s room.
From pointing out that the flowers sent by Claire Hanson had issues to clearly stating the origin of the poison, the comnts grew increasingly harsh, almost like they wanted to jump through the screen and harm her.
So even suggested that it was all orchestrated by Quinn to suppress Claire Hanson, hiring soone to act out a scene.
While Quinn still had her fans defending her, Ann Vaughn found herself isolated and without support.
Moreover, because of this incident, Claire Hanson’s fans discovered that she was the Chinese dicine practitioner involved in a recent hot gossip regarding her background, and they started attacking Vaughn Clinic.
For a while, everyone questioned whether she made those accusations to debut by stepping on Claire Hanson.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression darkened, his narrow eyes seed to gather a storm, chillingly terrifying.
If he turned his head slightly, he would find the little dumpling next to him looking at the tablet, displaying an identical expression.
"Just listen to these netizens. Are they even speaking like people?" Uncle Dexter muttered endlessly beside him, "Miss Vaughn should give them all a shot, let them see just how capable she really is!"
Just as Uncle Dexter finished speaking, he saw the father and son, one picking up a small black mirror, the other a phone, seemingly preparing for sothing.
Suddenly realizing sothing, Uncle Dexter quickly took out his phone and checked, discovering that all the videos about Miss Vaughn had mysteriously vanished from the internet!
The accounts that were stirring up the most trouble received cease-and-desist letters from Hawthorne Group simultaneously and promptly went silent...
Uncle Dexter: ... Indeed young master is unparalleled.
I must say, the way this father and son handle matters is equally direct and decisive.
Silencing those spreading rumors at the root is far more effective than any explanations or clarifications.
But... Kenny turned to look at the man sitting beside him, handing him a writing pad with "Draw" written on it.
Cyrus Hawthorne glanced at the writing pad, then gently ruffled Kenny’s hair, asking in a low voice, "Want a complete set of robot-making materials?"
Kenny was surprised for a mont, then slowly nodded his small head.
Apart from designing high-risk weapon blueprints, the little dumpling only had this one simple hobby.
However, because the materials he used were often too basic and many rare materials had to be substituted, the little dumpling often felt it wasn’t satisfying enough.
But—
There’s no such thing as a free lunch!
Kenny warily glanced at Cyrus Hawthorne, then wrote on the pad, "Tell , what’s your condition?"
"Smart boy." Cyrus Hawthorne’s thin lips curled in a delighted smile, though that smile held an inscrutable implication.
...
When Ann Vaughn returned to Villa No. 8 last night, it was already late. Due to the winter weather making her perpetually sleepy, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
So, the next morning, she only learned from Uncle Dexter that Cyrus Hawthorne would be going on a business trip abroad today.
"He didn’t even tell about it..." Ann Vaughn muttered, holding a cup of hot milk, looking disheartened and a bit upset.
"He probably didn’t have the ti. You fell asleep as soon as you got back last night. Seeing how tired you were, how could the young master bear to wake you?" Uncle Dexter asked with concern when he noticed her expression, "Are you feeling unwell?"
Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but lant why she slept so soundly like a pig, then explained, "I tend to feel lethargic in cold weather, but it’s nothing serious."
"That’s good." Uncle Dexter smiled kindly, then noticed Mark Joyce entering the living room, followed by two n. Rembering the young master’s instructions, he led the servants out of the dining room.
"Special Assistant Joyce?" Ann Vaughn swallowed her milk, looking puzzled at the two n following him. They were dressed in black, slightly tight outfits, exuding a cold aura like unsheathed blades.
As Ann Vaughn assessed them, they assessed her too.
"Miss Vaughn, let introduce you. This is Levi Lowell, and this is Leo Lowell. They are the new villa guards. If you need anything, feel free to instruct them," Mark Joyce said.
Guards?
Yet Ann Vaughn didn’t think these two were just ordinary guards.
Their aura was sharper than any royal guards she had seen, indicating they were not ordinary people.
Cyrus Hawthorne stationed these people at the villa... just who exactly are they guarding against?
Unable to fathom it, Ann Vaughn decided to stop thinking about it. After greeting the two, she continued with her breakfast.
Mark Joyce didn’t bother her further and left the dining room with the two n, briefing them on their next tasks.
"Mark Joyce, that woman can’t be the one we’re supposed to closely protect this ti, right?" Levi Lowell, younger than Leo Lowell, couldn’t hold back his words, expressing dissatisfaction as soon as they left the dining room, "She doesn’t seem to have anything special about her. Are you sure you’ve got it right?"
Leo Lowell was more reticent, his reluctance not as overt as Levi Lowell’s.
"These are President Hawthorne’s orders." Mark Joyce offered a slight smile.
"What gives that woman the right to have the family head leave us in the country just to protect her?" Levi Lowell’s brow furrowed tighter, his handso face revealing undisguised disgust, "Doesn’t she know how dangerous the task the family head is going to attend to? This is simply too capricious!"
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