Chapter 441: Chapter 441: The Mistress Here
Click.
A faint sound of a door opening echoed in her ears, and Ann Vaughn immediately heard an unfamiliar male voice beside her, "Is it her?"
"Yes, we’ve confirmed multiple times, there’s no mistake."
"Good, take her over there. If she refuses to cooperate, kill her."
Listening to their conversation, Ann Vaughn’s breathing became tense, her blood seemed to suddenly freeze, making her afraid to relax even a bit.
Before she could figure out what these people intended to do, Ann Vaughn realized she was being lifted up, as if taken somewhere.
She could only act according to the circumstances now.
After her eyes were covered, her hearing became exceptionally keen, allowing Ann Vaughn to clearly sense that there were guards everywhere she passed.
Furthermore, the breathing of those people was so light it was almost negligible, as if they had received special training... a certain type of people.
After entering the room, the person escorting Ann Vaughn noticed she was awake, tore off the black tape covering her eyes, and pushed her into the inner chamber.
Ann Vaughn just wanted to turn around when she felt a cold gun pressing against the back of her head.
Her spine stiffened, and her red lips pressed together tightly.
"As long as you cooperate obediently, we won’t hurt you." The person spoke in a dangerous tone, "I heard you’ve developed a treatment for the plague, and now a patient needs your help."
"You can choose not to cooperate, of course, my gun isn’t just for show. If you understand, nod."
Ann Vaughn took a deep breath and gently nodded.
So these people had captured her just to treat a plague patient.
They must have been watching her at the hospital for some time, otherwise, they wouldn’t have found out about the room’s situation so quickly.
Seeing her nod, the person opened the inner chamber door and pushed her to the large black bed in the room, warning her, "You can start now."
Despite saying this, the person showed no intention of removing the gun pressed against Ann Vaughn’s head.
In this room, every corner was strictly guarded by men in black, vigilantly watching Ann Vaughn.
Ann Vaughn tightly pursed her lips and looked up as she was about to do what was asked, when the pale yet suave face of the man lying on the bed suddenly entered her view.
...Quinn?!
How could it be him?!
"What are you waiting for?" The person pointing the gun at Ann Vaughn coldly rebuked as she stood motionless.
Ann Vaughn’s spine stiffened further; she suppressed the shock and astonishment in her heart and pretended to be calm as she checked the pulse of the still unconscious Cyrus Hawthorne.
Touching his wrist, the cold temperature made Ann Vaughn’s eyes tremble slightly, but she quickly steadied herself to carefully examine his pulse.
Cyrus Hawthorne was indeed infected with the mutated plague, but fortunately, the extract she stealthily added to his coffee or water worked, resulting in a mild infection.
"I need these herbs and a kitchen." After taking the pulse, Ann Vaughn wrote down the prescription on paper and handed it to the person behind her without turning around.
"Wait." The person said, passing the prescription to the waiting doctor beside him, "Check the prescription for any problems."
Upon hearing this, Ann Vaughn’s mouth twitched slightly, she wouldn’t harm her boyfriend, would she?
But these people didn’t know her; if she said such a thing, she might get shot by those watching her every move.
Strangely, she didn’t see Mark Joyce here.
Ann Vaughn frowned slightly, contemplating, when the doctor called to fetch the herbs returned quickly and handed them to Ann Vaughn.
Ann Vaughn could only temporarily set aside her thoughts, stared at the figure on the bed for a while, and then turned around to be escorted to the kitchen.
The person kept monitoring Ann Vaughn’s every action, preventing her from adding the extract to the medicine; she could only put effort into the brewing, which took considerable time.
After two and a half hours, the herbal medicine was ready.
Ann Vaughn returned to the inner chamber, but the person didn’t let her feed the medicine to Cyrus Hawthorne; instead, it was handed to the doctor beside him.
Just then, a graceful figure entered the inner chamber, and as her gaze swept over Ann Vaughn standing not far from the bed, there was a slight surprise, which was quickly suppressed.
"I’ll do it." Miyi Yates took the glass bowl from the doctor’s hand, naturally sat on the bedside, and gently fed the medicine to Cyrus Hawthorne.
Her familiar actions made Ann Vaughn glance at her, seeing an elegantly dressed woman with the demeanor of an aristocratic lady.
What truly concerned Ann Vaughn was her relationship with Cyrus Hawthorne.
Whether it was the intimate ambiance she exuded while feeding Cyrus the medicine, or the sweet smile on her face as she wiped his lips with her handkerchief...
It was as if needles pierced Ann Vaughn’s eyes, her nerve endings subtly trembled with pain.
She involuntarily tightened her red lips, and her fingers slightly tensed, crumpling her skirt.
But she couldn’t make any moves, else the gun at the back of her head would press tighter.
It was truly disastrous.
Sitting at the bedside, Miyi Yates placed the glass bowl on the table, her eyes glanced at Ann Vaughn standing beside and smiled unconsciously.
Ann Vaughn missed Miyi Yates’ smile; when she collected her thoughts and looked up again, she saw Miyi Yates leaning close to Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips.
After a while, she raised her head and smiled at Cyrus Hawthorne.
"Miya will be here, nowhere else." Saying this, Miyi Yates sported a smile and turned to the man pointing the gun at Ann Vaughn, "Take her away and keep watch. Release her when Cian is out of danger. Cian needs to rest now."
"Yes, Miss Miya." The man nodded, leading the dazed Ann Vaughn out of the inner chamber and locking her in a separate room.
Once everything quieted down, Ann Vaughn’s vacant eyes focused, her fingers tightly clutching her skirt, seemingly ready to pierce her palm, yet feeling no pain.
The woman named "Miya" seemed to have an exceptionally close relationship with Cyrus Hawthorne.
So close that her every action carried the presence of the lady of the house.
So close... he called her name even in his unconscious state.
Then what was she?
"Hehe." Ann Vaughn sat against the door panel on the cold floor, her pale face expressionless, only a chill penetrating her heart.
It truly hurt.