Divorced for so many years?
At the ntion of this, Laura Quinn felt annoyed. Cyrus Hawthorne and Ann Vaughn were only pretending to be divorced back then; they never actually went through with it!
During those years when Ann Vaughn was absent, Laura didn’t know how many noble ladies she had considered for him, yet he refused them all with various excuses, always sending his secretary in his place for appointnts. It was truly exhausting for her.
In the past, perhaps Cyrus Hawthorne would listen to her, but now, not necessarily.
"What you say makes sense." Laura didn’t directly refuse but nodded aningfully, "Let’s wait for a while; it’s not the right ti yet."
She recalled that Ann Vaughn miscarried a few days ago, not to ntion, her womb was ruined—it was practically impossible for her to conceive again.
But since she already had a son, Kenny, whether or not she could conceive again made no difference to her, and the elders of the Hawthorne Family wouldn’t care.
But what if... Ann Vaughn and Kenny, one of them died?
Upon realizing Laura’s intention, the politician’s wife nodded with satisfaction, stopping her self-recomndation to avoid causing further annoyance.
At this mont, Laura’s phone suddenly vibrated twice. She picked it up and her face changed dramatically.
The noblewon saw her leave the gathering without saying a word, sighed a few tis, then continued chatting, ignoring her departure.
With a stern expression, Laura hurried out of the restaurant only to be stopped by Miyi Yates, "Ma’am, the Family Head sent to take you back. Please get in the car."
"Cian searched the house while I was away. What is he trying to do?" Laura felt both surprised and angry; her freshly done exquisite manicure dug deeply into her handbag, "Does he not see as his mother anymore!?"
"Please don’t overthink it, just get in the car." Facing Laura’s anger, Miyi Yates didn’t reveal anything, only inviting her into the car.
As Laura bent down to get into the car, Miyi Yates glanced at her inadvertently exposed right wrist, pausing her gaze.
That pampered-looking wrist... had not a single mark on it.
By the ti Laura returned to The Hawthorne Residence, Cyrus Hawthorne was already sitting on the sofa in the living room, waiting. His long legs crossed elegantly and casually.
Clad in a pure black retro suit, he looked stern yet not rigid. With the top button ticulously fastened, it added a touch of ascetic charm.
His deep, chiseled face with cold features resembled an ink painting, as if a carefully crafted masterpiece bestowed by God.
Just by sitting there, he commanded a serene authority over everyone present, making it hard for anyone to ignore him.
"Mother is back." Cyrus looked up indifferently at the anxious Laura as she walked in, tossing a package on the table, "Your son, being sowhat ignorant, hopes Mother can explain what this is."
The package scattered open on the table, revealing crystalline substances inside.
Still holding onto a sliver of hope that she’d hidden it well enough, Laura turned pale, halting in her steps forward.
"This, this is..."
"Mark Joyce, it seems Mother’s mory is failing. Remind her." Cyrus’s voice remained calm and lazy, yet it stirred fear in others.
Mark Joyce imdiately stepped forward, "Yes, President Hawthorne. Madam, these crystalline substances are extracted from a poisonous herb called ’broken child grass.’ Just one can cause a woman who is either pregnant or not to be unable to carry to term—resulting in fetal death in the womb, with larger amounts potentially threatening her life."
"What a coincidence." A low chuckle escaped Cyrus, as he picked up a piece of the broken child grass extract, "The broken child grass was indeed found in Ann’s body. Does Mother know who poisoned her?"
Laura was almost trembling with panic, trying to maintain her composure while retorting, "How would I know? This is rely a coincidence."
She awkwardly defended herself again, "I know I made many mistakes in the past, so you don’t trust . But how could I use such a cruel thod to harm Ann? Everything should rely on evidence!"
"Evidence?" Cyrus’s thin lips curled coldly, his narrowed eyes indifferent as stone, "Mark Joyce, bring them in."
"Yes, President Hawthorne." Mark Joyce responded, sending a text to the Hidden Guard on his phone.
Soon, the Hidden Guard brought Mrs. Lynch into the living room.
Seeing Mrs. Lynch, Laura could no longer maintain even a pretense of calm, her fingernails nearly breaking from pressing too hard.
Before Cyrus could speak, she pointed and shouted at Mrs. Lynch, "You peasant, what did you tell Cyrus? I rely refused your raise request, and you tried to drive a wedge between us. What are your intentions!"
Her quick response seed reasonable, turning anything Mrs. Lynch might have said into "harboring resentnt" and slanderously instigating discord.
Mrs. Lynch felt bitter, and after hearing Laura’s bla-shifting words, she felt utterly chilled.
Yet sitting on the sofa, Cyrus showed no emotional fluctuation, especially gazing at the furious Laura.
Laura forced out two tears, explaining, "Son, you surely cannot believe the one-sided words of this venomous woman. She has long harbored hatred for , wanting to take this chance for revenge. I truly didn’t do those things."
"Do you think," Cyrus’s thin lips opened slightly, "the evidence I’ve gathered is solely Mrs. Lynch?"
Laura’s expression stiffened, "What..."
Before she could finish questioning, Cyrus threw a stack of thick docunts on the table, "The channels you used to buy broken child grass, how you turned it into extract, and the surveillance footage of you instructing Mrs. Lynch to poison Ann—"
At this point, Cyrus’s expression grew colder, and when he looked at Laura again, the last bit of motherly affection extinguished in his deep, swirling eyes, his voice cold as tal and stone, "These are enough to send you to court."
Court?!!
Laura stared at Cyrus in shock, her legs wobbly in high heels, making her fall directly to the floor.
No one ca forward to help her.
Yet Laura’s eyes were filled with disbelief, "You want... to send your own mother to court?! After your father’s death, I painstakingly raised you and Vera, enduring the ridicule of many who privately mocked for killing your father, and I didn’t even dare to die in order to raise you both!"
"You want to send to court?! Cyrus Hawthorne, I am your mother!"
"Precisely because you are my mother," Cyrus’s face was emotionless, colder even than an ice sculpture, "that’s why you can stand here unhard."
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