Chapter 456: Chapter 456: Don’t Look at Me Like That
Upon hearing Old Master Saxon’s words, Ann Vaughn’s glistening, moist eyelashes fluttered, and she stared at him blankly with her reddish eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Your grandfather knew he didn’t have much time left, so he entrusted my lawyer to draft a will. Everything he owned would belong to his granddaughter, Ann Vaughn, after his death," Old Master Saxon stated. "Your grandfather was most worried about you, so he made these preparations early on."
"The will...?" Ann Vaughn was stunned, her rosy little mouth pressed tightly.
Old Master Saxon nodded, speaking earnestly, "Your grandfather always said, in the end, a son can’t be relied upon, but fortunately, there’s a thoughtful and sensible granddaughter. By leaving those things to you, they can realize their greatest value. To have raised such an heir as you, he felt his life was not lived in vain."
"Annie, your grandfather may not have been one for sweet talk, but his love for you was no pretense."
These words were not fabricated by Old Master Saxon; they were indeed spoken by Old Master Vaughn himself.
There was a period when Old Master Saxon was so annoyed by Old Master Vaughn’s incessant boasting about his granddaughter that he avoided seeing him for over half a month.
"I understand," Ann Vaughn’s voice was somewhat hoarse and choked. She lowered her gaze to the letter in her hand and smiled weakly. "I should have realized long ago that Grandpa would never think, as I imagined, that I was unworthy of being his heir. It’s just that I..."
At the time, she was caught in a blind alley and couldn’t find her way out, sinking deeper and deeper involuntarily.
Just like Cyrus had said, she should feel with her heart rather than guessing wildly.
Yet she also felt guilty, thinking that everything she had was stolen from her grandfather’s real granddaughter.
Until she saw that sentence from Grandpa, that no matter whose biological daughter she was, she was always his granddaughter. Ann Vaughn suddenly felt enlightened.
She only needed to remember that Cyrus Vaughn was her grandpa, her closest grandpa, and that was enough.
Ann Vaughn hugged the letter like a treasure, holding it close to her heart, not even noticing when Old Master Saxon left.
"What are you looking at?" Suddenly, a deep, clear voice came from behind. Ann Vaughn turned to see Cyrus Hawthorne, and her brows arched like crescent moons as she smiled. "Looking at your childhood photos."
Photos?
Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes paused slightly, then he picked up the photo album in her hands and flipped through it. Instantly, his face turned dark, and he closed the album, promptly standing up. "You’re not allowed to look."
The box containing that letter and photo album had always been kept by Old Master Saxon. According to Old Master Vaughn’s wishes, it was to be given to her once she found her biological parents.
Therefore, Cyrus Hawthorne had never opened the box to check, not knowing that Old Master Vaughn had placed many less-than-dignified childhood photos of him in this photo album.
Really...
But indeed, he had taken Old Master Vaughn’s beloved granddaughter, so he could only accept this small suffering.
Ann Vaughn was dumbfounded for a moment, quickly standing on tiptoe to grab the photo album from him. "Why can’t I look?"
Unfortunately, Cyrus Hawthorne was resolute, and with his height of six-foot-three, his arms raised high, Ann Vaughn couldn’t reach the photo album no matter how much she jumped.
Ann Vaughn had just seen less than half of the photo album’s contents, and not being able to see it now made her feel restless.
"Why won’t you let me see it? I’m just looking at photos of you as a child without clothes, not photos of you now without clothes! This was given to me by Grandpa!" Ann Vaughn was exasperated, reaching out her claws to scratch Cyrus Hawthorne’s face.
But he accurately caught her wrist and, in one swift motion, held it behind her back, causing her to helplessly lean forward against his cool chest.
Ann Vaughn was even more annoyed. She clearly wasn’t weak, so why did she feel powerless every time she faced him, like she was just scratching an itch?
Suddenly, Cyrus Hawthorne leaned closer to her ear, inhaling the faint fragrance from her. His expression was dangerous, and his voice was low and husky, "If you really want to see now, it’s not impossible."
It was winter, and the old house, long uninhabited, naturally had no heating. The chilly wind blew in from the hall or the doorway, so cold it felt like penetrating one’s bones.
"I don’t want to see! Don’t start anything here!" She glared at him with a mix of embarrassment and anger, not realizing that her beautiful, slightly reddened eyes conveyed an inexplicable meaning even when glaring.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s Adam’s apple shifted slightly, his eyebrows knitting tightly. "Don’t look at me with those eyes."
Ann Vaughn shuddered at the sudden menacing aura from him, like a startled cat that had puffed up but was now cowering obediently, "I, I won’t look. If you weren’t so handsome, I wouldn’t look at you."
See, even when speaking angrily, it sounded like she was acting coy.
Cyrus Hawthorne silently composed himself, helping this bashful cat straighten her clothes before standing up to ask, "Want to stay a bit longer?"