Joyce Chancellor smiled with poise, "I just joined the company and don’t know much yet. Special Assistant Joyce is just concerned about my work."
The secretaries nodded with knowing looks, wearing expressions that said they understood everything.
Which one of them didn’t start out as a newcor? Why hadn’t they seen Mark Joyce care about their work before?
No one had expected Joyce Chancellor to have such a connection, and they were glad they hadn’t crossed her before.
...
Little Dumpling’s wound still hadn’t improved after two days, which made Ann Vaughn start to doubt the effectiveness of the dicine.
However, all those dications had been tested by Sherry and were absolutely fine.
Could it be that Little Dumpling had a different constitution from ordinary people?
Ann Vaughn was perplexed, and while making dicinal porridge at noon, she added a few more drops of dicine into it.
After doing all this, Ann suddenly rembered that today was the day for her to deliver the painting she had arranged with Ron Warren.
Handing the dicinal porridge to the maid to keep an eye on, Ann Vaughn went upstairs to get the painting and then hurried out.
Who would have thought that just as she was about to shove the painting into Ron Warren’s door, it suddenly opened.
Ron Warren, dressed in casual wear, appeared before Ann Vaughn.
The wound on his forehead was hidden by his hair, so it was unclear how he was doing.
However, his complexion was not as good as before, deathly pale, with bloodless lips, and his figure was thin and frail, as if gravely ill.
"I’m here to deliver the painting... How’s your injury? Any better?" Ann Vaughn looked at him for a mont and then handed over the painting.
Ron Warren touched his forehead and said indifferently, "It’s fine now."
Rembering how Ron Warren had run out of the hospital that day, Ann instinctively doubted his words. She then said:
"Last ti you didn’t stay for observation, the doctor asked to remind you not to forget follow-up checks to avoid any sequelae."
"No need, I’m fine." Ron Warren refused without a second thought.
Just as he finished speaking, a strange sound suddenly ca from Ron Warren’s stomach.
Ron Warren: "..."
Ann Vaughn looked at his cracking facade of composure, stifled a laugh, and said, "Do you have ti now? I know a good restaurant. Consider it an apology for my previous oversight."
Ron Warren said nothing and silently accepted.
Half an hour later, at The Jade Pavilion.
Ann Vaughn never expected the spectacle of a food challenge to unfold before her eyes.
After finishing her whole bag of cakes last ti, Ron Warren ate an entire table’s worth of food by himself, and then ordered another table...
Ann Vaughn’s chopsticks almost slipped from her hands.
Under Ann Vaughn’s shocked gaze, Ron Warren finished two tables of food alone, plus twenty servings of dessert and five servings of seasonal fruit before finally stopping.
Ann Vaughn looked at the table full of empty plates and couldn’t help but swallow nervously.
"Are you... full?"
"Barely half-full," Ron Warren said reservedly, flashing her a rare smile.
... Half-full? Barely??
Upon hearing this, Ann Vaughn almost gasped.
Wow.
Does he have a black hole for a stomach? How can he hold so much food??
"If you’re still not full, you can order more. It’s on today, don’t be shy," Ann Vaughn said calmly after taking a sip of juice to collect herself.
Ron Warren’s eyes lit up, and he looked at Ann Vaughn earnestly, "You’re really a kind person."
Ann Vaughn: "..." Just had a kindness card handed out unexpectedly.
So Ron Warren, on his own, once again polished off another table’s worth of food.
Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but remind him, "If you eat too much, your stomach won’t handle it well. If you want to eat more next ti, I’ll treat you again?"
A hint of confusion flashed in Ron Warren’s eyes, feeling the fullness in his stomach, yet he couldn’t stop his craving for food.
He wished he could fill his stomach to the brim, so full it would never be empty again.
He knew this was unhealthy, but he couldn’t help himself.
anwhile, on the spiral staircase opposite their seats, a tall man in a black tailored suit descended from above, followed by a group of elite personnel.
"I heard President Hawthorne is eyeing that plot of land in the southwest, planning to compete with the Golding Family?" the middle-aged man at Cyrus Hawthorne’s right side chuckled, "To be honest, the Golding Family approached to ask for a favor, hoping you’d go easy on them."
Competing with Hawthorne Group inevitably made the Golding Family anxious.
But that piece of land really had nothing special, nor any comrcial value. The Golding Family just had the wrong impression wanting to bid on it, practically like throwing money to hear it clatter.
Yet, the sa situation with Cyrus Hawthorne made people wonder if there was so deeper intention behind it.
After all, since Cyrus beca the CEO of Hawthorne Group, he hasn’t made a single decision wrong, certainly not acting on a whim this ti, too.
Still, no one could fathom what Cyrus Hawthorne was actually thinking.
"In business competition, it’s all about skill," Cyrus Hawthorne said coolly, as his peripheral vision suddenly caught a familiar silhouette by the window, making him pause.
Soon after, his gaze landed on the man opposite Ann Vaughn, and his brows gradually furrowed.
"In that case, I won’t be ddleso," the middle-aged man smiled, "It’s still early, would President Hawthorne like to go to Maplewood for so relaxation?"
"No need," Cyrus Hawthorne’s voice turned increasingly icy, "You all go ahead, I have sothing to attend to."
After saying so, Cyrus Hawthorne stepped away.
On this side, Ann Vaughn was about to call the waiter for the bill when she saw Cyrus Hawthorne walking toward her.
"Mr. Vaughn?" Ann Vaughn waved a paw to say hello, "What a coincidence, you’re eating here too?"
Cyrus Hawthorne slightly nodded, his gaze seemingly nonchalantly brushing over Ron Warren, then resting on Ann Vaughn’s face.
"Kenny called saying he was scared being ho alone, so I left early."
"Huh?" Ann Vaughn was stunned for a second. When she went out, Little Dumpling was still asleep. She thought he wouldn’t wake up so quickly.
Kids are extra sensitive when they’re sick. If Kenny woke up and saw neither she nor Jas Vaughn was there, he’d naturally be scared.
The more she thought about it, the guiltier Ann felt. She got up and said to Ron Warren, "Sorry, I have to go take care of sothing. I’ll treat you to a al next ti."
Next ti?
Hearing this, Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes slightly narrowed.
Ron Warren is the type who never refuses people willing to let him eat, so he nodded imdiately.
At the checkout, Ann Vaughn was told by the front desk that she had previously won a gold card here, making all expenses free.
Ann Vaughn was dumbfounded on the spot.
It turned out she really had been to S Country before, which explained why everything here felt vaguely familiar, yet she couldn’t pinpoint the familiarity.
If that’s the case, could her family be here as well?
Ann Vaughn was still in a daze when she returned to number 8.
"President Hawthorne, Miss Vaughn." Mark Joyce stepped forward and glanced at Ann Vaughn, then hesitantly said, "A maid ntioned that Miss Vaughn poisoned the porridge she was making for the young master."
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