Chapter 464: Chapter 464: Actions Speak Louder Than Words
Because Ann Vaughn has a slight obsessive-compulsive disorder, she is accustomed to wearing matching or same-series accessories.
"It’s a birthday gift." Ann Vaughn smiled lightly, feeling a hint of warmth spreading in her heart.
However, it was still uncertain how Cyrus Hawthorne was doing at the moment.
There was no news from Bella Hawthorne either, and as time passed, the unease in her heart grew heavier.
"Annie?" Sherry called out a few times, but Ann Vaughn did not respond. She added, "Aren’t you supposed to meet with President Duval of Ansel Pharma for a collaboration? If you don’t go now, you’ll be late."
Ann Vaughn finally came back to her senses, glanced at the time, and immediately jolted. "It’s one o’clock already? I have to go!"
"Be careful on the road, and stay safe." Before Sherry finished speaking, Ann Vaughn’s figure had already disappeared, leaving her shaking her head helplessly.
Due to traffic restrictions today, Ann Vaughn did not drive out, and after leaving Vaughn Clinic, she walked straight to the intersection to hail a cab.
The shallow winter sunlight lacked warmth, shining through the branches and leaves of the roadside camphor trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
The taxi hadn’t arrived yet, and the cold breeze bit into her bones. Ann Vaughn lowered her eyes to the beautiful shadow of branches and leaves on the ground, her thoughts drifting far away, unaware of the danger behind her.
"Ah—"
The shrill scream, like that of a pig being slaughtered, combined with the sound of a breaking wrist, suddenly startled Ann Vaughn. She jumped in fright, retreating several steps before being steadied by a pair of hands.
"How could you be walking without looking at the road, what on earth are you thinking about? Huh?!" A raspy, aggressive voice scolded her head-on, leaving Ann Vaughn stunned in place.
She stared blankly at Wilder Sheridan, wearing dark sunglasses, whose face seemed to scream "don’t mess with me," before finally snapping out of it.
Was she just scolded by this brat??
"I don’t know what you use these eyes for, just to look pretty?!" Eldest Master Sheridan scolded angrily, grabbing Ann Vaughn by the collar and pushing her aside.
He lifted a long leg and stomped on the fallen man’s wrist on the ground, grinding hard—
"You—you bastard—ah!!" The man in the baseball cap cried out in pain, his body drenched in sweat, as if just pulled out of water, struggling to straighten his waist.
The short dagger dropped at the man’s feet shocked Ann Vaughn, instinctively glancing at her handbag, only to find a cut in her clothes.
It was apparent that this person wasn’t trying to steal but intended to stab her!
Thinking of this, Ann Vaughn’s previous frustration from being scolded dissipated, as she watched Wilder Sheridan reprimand the man, with a certain feeling stirring within her.
This brat... hasn’t entirely gone bad to the core, huh.
But just as this thought landed, Ann Vaughn saw Wilder Sheridan pick up the short dagger, twist his wrist, and toss it between the man’s legs...
The man didn’t even scream before being scared into unconsciousness...
Ann Vaughn: "..." She was too naive, indeed.
"Tch, with such courage, you dare to commit murder." Wilder Sheridan’s face flashed with disdain, about to bend down to pick up the short dagger when his arm was suddenly hugged by Ann Vaughn, pausing him.
"That’s enough, really no need." Ann Vaughn thought he missed his aim and wanted another shot, quickly hugging and pulling his hand to the side, "Just hand him over to the police station, it’s not worth committing a crime for such a person."
Wilder Sheridan frowned, thinking, what’s this woman talking about?
But being dragged away by Ann Vaughn, he didn’t push her away, only showing a look of reluctance on his face.
It wasn’t until Ann Vaughn dragged him away from the scene that she let go of his hand, looking at his face, seemingly born for the entertainment industry, and sighed, "Why are you in The Imperial Capital?"
"Why can’t I be here?" Hearing this, Wilder Sheridan frowned and retorted, his voice hoarse and somewhat distorted, "The Eldest Master is everywhere, isn’t he allowed?"
"Are you sick?" She had thought his voice was off before, and now on closer inspection, he likely had a cold with some symptoms of a fever.
Wilder Sheridan didn’t directly answer her, lazily saying, "Won’t die."
This brat...
Ann Vaughn’s mouth twitched, internally reminding herself that this was her little brother, barely suppressing the urge to hit him, "If you’re sick, don’t wander around. Stay in the hotel and rest well, or it’ll get worse."
"You’re not anyone to me, why do you care so much?" Wilder Sheridan’s mouth twitched, looking slightly uncomfortable as he averted his gaze, giving a slight humph.
"Fine, I can’t be bothered with you." Ann Vaughn sneered, then turned and left without another glance at him.
However, she found she couldn’t move.
Looking down, Ann Vaughn saw her coat’s hem being tugged by the brat behind her.
Turning around, she saw Wilder Sheridan with a face full of "Go if you want, I won’t stop you," yet stubbornly holding onto her coat.
—The body is always more honest than the mouth.
In the presidential suite at the top of the hotel.
From the kitchen, the sound of the knife on the chopping board and water boiling in the pot intermittently mixed with the horror movie playing in the living room, surprisingly forming a rather harmonious ambiance.
Wilder Sheridan had a thermometer in his mouth, his wild and unruly handsome face flushed with a sickly red, lying listlessly on the sofa like a large wounded dog.
Soon, a rich and tantalizing aroma wafted from the kitchen, making this large dog sniff and follow the scent to the kitchen.
"What are you cooking?"
Ann Vaughn turned her head to see Wilder Sheridan leaning against the doorframe and casually pulled the thermometer from his mouth, glancing at it. "Thirty-nine degrees, you’re this sick and still running around?"
Wilder Sheridan didn’t answer her, his eyes fixed on the pot beside her.
"It’ll be a while," Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but sigh. The person who didn’t want to eat when they arrived seemed to be the same one, "Have some biscuits to tide you over."
"Throat hurts, can’t eat."
Seeing him look so pitiful, Ann Vaughn almost couldn’t bring herself to bully him anymore, telling him to wait a little longer, then throwing the chopped ingredients and herbs into the pot.
Noticing the ginger in that pile of ingredients, Wilder Sheridan exploded, "I don’t eat ginger or carrots! And what herbs are you throwing in there!"
"Eat if you want, if not, I’ll eat it all myself later." Ann Vaughn wouldn’t indulge this ancestor any further. She covered the pot and went to make some appetizers.
Eldest Master Sheridan kept a stony face, his angry eyes fixed on busy Ann Vaughn, as if trying to bore a hole through her back.