Cyrus Hawthorne narrowed his sword-like brows, his long, dark eyes casually watching her.
As if saying, if I harbored ulterior motives towards you, would I need to make such unnecessary preparations?
Reading this aning in his eyes, Ann Vaughn’s lips twitched lightly, and the slight touch of emotion that had just risen in her heart shattered to pieces.
She was still too naive.
...
After learning that Ann Vaughn and the others were to leave for The Imperial Capital tonight, both Old Mrs. Vaughn and Old Mr. Vaughn were extrely reluctant to let them go, wanting to persuade them to stay.
But Old Mrs. Vaughn thought of her body, which had been unsteady for decades, and how it had noticeably improved and recovered after only a few acupuncture and massage sessions from Ann Vaughn, to the point where she needed the wheelchair less frequently.
It was evident how extraordinary Ann Vaughn’s dical skills were.
So, despite their reluctance, Old Mrs. Vaughn understood that children grow up and eventually need to spread their wings and soar high, and it was enough for her to watch them from afar.
But knowing that her newly found granddaughter and little Kenny would be leaving so soon, Old Mrs. Vaughn and Old Mr. Vaughn couldn’t help but have tears in their eyes.
Even Kenny, who never cried easily, had reddened eyes at the farewell scene, his little plump and soft body clinging to Old Mrs. Vaughn.
In a sweet, childish voice, he promised to visit whenever he had the ti.
These days, Kenny had been sleeping with Old Mrs. Vaughn and Old Mr. Vaughn, occasionally being claid by Ian Vaughn.
The more awkward and unfamiliar it was at first, the more reluctant it was now.
"The doors of Viridian Palace will always be open for you. You can co back whenever you feel hosick," Ian Vaughn finally said solemnly and gently to Ann Vaughn after a long silence.
Ann Vaughn’s clear eyes were montarily dazed, and it felt like sothing hit her heart hard, then she suddenly smiled faintly, "Okay, we will."
After a journey of nearly four hours, the plane landed at Imperial Capital Airport.
The black Maybach, like a night-ti hunter, drove slowly on the road.
On the plane, Ann Vaughn and Kenny were too busy being sad to rest, so they fell asleep as soon as they got in the car.
"President Hawthorne, about Harold Hawthorne..." Mark Joyce, sitting in the front seat, was about to report during the downti of the drive, but was interrupted as soon as he started.
"We’ll discuss it later." Cyrus Hawthorne slightly frowned his brow, lowering his voice.
Mark Joyce instinctively glanced at Ann Vaughn and Kenny, who were asleep on either side of the boss’s shoulders, and imdiately fell silent.
As soon as the car stopped at Villa No. 8, Ann Vaughn and Kenny woke up at the sa ti, their similar and beautiful eyes blinking in unison, filled with the sa confusion.
"We’re ho." The contours of Cyrus Hawthorne’s stern face softened slightly as he picked up Kenny’s soft little body with one hand and held Ann Vaughn’s small hand with the other.
Uncle Dexter, who had been waiting for them, hurried up to et them as they walked in, "Young Master, Miss Vaughn, Young Master Kenny, the chef has prepared a late-night snack. Would you like to have so?"
"Send it to the second floor." Cyrus Hawthorne glanced at Ann Vaughn, who looked like she might fall asleep on his arm at any mont, and instructed with a hint of helplessness in his voice.
"Yes." Uncle Dexter responded, just about to turn and leave when he suddenly rembered sothing and said, "Miss Vaughn, there was an international package delivered for you yesterday. Shall I bring it up to you?"
Ann Vaughn, fighting sleepiness, forced herself to perk up at what Uncle Dexter said, "Who sent it? I haven’t ordered anything recently."
"Apart from the na ’GW’ on the label, there was no other information." Uncle Dexter thought for a mont before replying.
GW...
Warren Vance!
As soon as those two words entered Ann Vaughn’s mind, she instantly snapped awake.
Kenny, who was dozing on Cyrus Hawthorne’s shoulder, also opened his eyes, pursing his little mouth tightly, and frowned.
"Uncle Dexter, where is the package now?" Ann Vaughn stood up abruptly, her pretty face growing cold as she asked.
"In the living room."
Upon receiving the answer, Ann Vaughn almost scrambled to the living room, biting her lower lip sharply, her bright eyes seemingly spitting fire.
She ran into the living room in a few steps and imdiately saw the box on the table, engraved with the White Mandala pattern, a clear symbol of identity.
Without thinking, Ann Vaughn picked up the box and coldly stopped Cyrus Hawthorne and Kenny as they entered the living room, "Don’t co over here!"
"Quinn, stand back with Kenny, don’t co over!"
Cyrus Hawthorne lowered his eyes, his gaze accurately catching Ann Vaughn holding the box with hands trembling slightly, a sharp glint passing imperceptibly in the depths of his eyes.
"Mom..." Kenny pondered for a second and imdiately guessed what might be in the white box, his little face changing.
Crown Prince Gothasen’s heir, Warren Vance, favored white, and the beautiful yet deadly White Mandala represented his identity.
He even managed to track down Mom here...
Ann Vaughn’s expression was no better; the warmth within her felt as if it was abruptly drained, leaving her shivering uncontrollably from the cold.
She had once witnessed soone else receive a box engraved with the White Mandala pattern.
Gothasen’s fifth prince opened it joyfully and reached inside.
And then he silently died before Ann Vaughn’s eyes.
As the box fell to the ground, out slithered a transparent White Mamba Snake that made one’s scalp tingle.
The mory of that cold and terrifying scene surged unbidden into Ann Vaughn’s mind, causing her heart to tremble involuntarily, her palms slick with sweat as the box nearly slipped from her grasp.
At that mont, however, a slightly warm large hand gripped her cold hand, taking the box from her and opening it—
"W-wait..." Ann Vaughn’s bright eyes widened, and just as she snatched the box back from Cyrus Hawthorne’s hands, she was startled by what suddenly leaped out of it.
The box was filled with vivid, thorny roses, their colors blindingly bright—blue, enchanting pink, noble purple, and even, upon closer inspection, the rarest black...
With such a large bouquet packed into the box, opening the lid made the contents spill out eagerly.
Ann Vaughn was completely stunned.
How could it be...roses?!
Thorny roses are unique to Gothasen, requiring extrely demanding growing conditions and blooming only once a year. After the blooming period, these beautiful flowers turn into untouchable thorn bushes.
Ann Vaughn had once been very fond of these roses, and no one but Warren Vance knew this.
She frowned and looked at the flowers in the box, suddenly spotting a card tucked inside. She reached out to grab it.
However, Cyrus Hawthorne was quicker, picking up the card and unfolding it, scanning it with downcast eyes.
"My dear, your favorite thorny roses?"
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