Chapter 232: Chapter 232: Does He Already Know the Truth?
He was even willing to trade her and the child’s lives for a chance that Cynthia Vaughn might survive.
Since being wheeled into the operating room, Ann Vaughn realized completely that in this world, everyone’s lives were probably not as important as the woman in Cyrus Hawthorne’s heart.
Her heart suddenly felt like it was being torn apart, and the unexpected pain caused Ann Vaughn to close her eyes tightly. It took a long while for her to recover, but her cheeks were still pale.
"No mistake." Sutton Jennings remarked somewhat complexly, "Four years ago, he replaced the news of your death with the false news of Cynthia Vaughn’s death. From that time, it wasn’t hard to guess that he might already know who really saved him when he was a child."
His love and protection for Cynthia Vaughn all stemmed from the gratitude of childhood.
Yet the person who pushed his real savior into hell was Cynthia Vaughn, the woman who had occupied the love and protection that should have belonged to Ann Vaughn for over a decade.
It’s no surprise she ended up like this.
"He found out?" Ann Vaughn pressed her dry lips together, was this the reason for his change in attitude ever since their reunion?
It wasn’t because he wanted to kill her or use one of her organs.
It was just because he already knew that the person who saved him when they were children was her, not Cynthia Vaughn.
But the harm was already done, and any attempts to make amends only seemed ridiculous to her.
Ann Vaughn silently laughed twice, then asked Sutton Jennings to help her find an opportunity to meet with Cynthia Vaughn.
After that, she hung up the phone and sat dazed by the bedside for a long time, unable to regain her composure.
Night fell.
The Obsidian Lounge’s private room.
The golden and silver lights whirled and fell, the large screen playing a popular song, melodious and pleasant to the ear.
A silent battle was being waged at the poker table.
"Forget it, forget it, I’m losing tonight, I’m not playing anymore." Silas Master Moore pushed the cards in front of him away, picked up a glass of water instead, and looked irritated.
"With President Hawthorne here, it was already your peak luck to have won a round. You’re too young."
"I think President Hawthorne is in high spirits not just in his luck but also in love, since his wife returned to the country."
"Isn’t Young Mr. Morgan about to get engaged too? Though not to a noble lady, I’ve heard she’s quite a beauty. Young Mr. Morgan is fortunate indeed."
No sooner had the person spoken than they fell silent under Silas Master Moore’s sinister gaze.
Silas Master Moore took several shots, turning to see Cyrus Hawthorne lounging in the main seat, feeling indignant, "You’ve won all the tourism shares under my name, I have to fleece you tonight."
"Alright." Cyrus Hawthorne raised his eyes, a smile on his lips, "You have quite a few tourism shares under your name; no matter how much you fleece, it’ll just be making a wedding dress for me."
After all, the shares were now in his hands.
Upon realizing this, Silas Master Moore took a few more shots, almost choking on the injustice.
Why did he insist on playing cards with this ruthless man? Hadn’t the past lessons been severe enough?
"It’s still early, let’s head to the Grand Central Casino. I’ve heard they recently introduced some new games, and they’re quite interesting." Calming down, Silas Master Moore checked the time and suggested.
The others naturally agreed, as it was still early for them.
"You guys go ahead." Cyrus Hawthorne glanced at his watch, stood up and placed a card on the table, "There’s something at home, on me, have fun."
After speaking, he picked up the black coat draped over the chair and was about to leave, but was suddenly stopped by Silas Master Moore clutching his shoulder.
Silas Master Moore’s mischievous eyes gleamed with gossip, "Annie isn’t even speaking to you, what’s there to do when you get home?"
Besides, it’s not even ten o’clock yet; what could possibly require him to go home now?
Cyrus Hawthorne slightly curled his lips, brushing off Silas Master Moore’s hand, his magnetic voice slowly stated, "There’s a cat at home to feed."
Feed the cat??
By the time the others reacted, Cyrus Hawthorne’s figure had already vanished.
"When did President Hawthorne start keeping a cat? Isn’t he against these shedding pets?" someone couldn’t help but ask.
Silas Master Moore swept aside his fringe and smiled enigmatically, "Who would’ve thought he had a taste for this?"
...
Nearly ten thirty, the European-style villa was very quiet, with only the corridor lights gently illuminating.
Ann Vaughn hopped out of the elevator on one leg and then hopped toward the kitchen.
Thankfully, at this hour, she was the only person left in the villa. Otherwise, if someone saw her actions from outside, they might have been scared to death.
Supporting herself against the fridge to relieve the discomfort in her ankle, she was just about to open the fridge to look for ingredients when suddenly a hand appeared before her eyes.
"Holy crap!" Ann Vaughn was so startled she shivered all over, barely holding back a curse, only to turn and see Cyrus Hawthorne just returning from outside.
"What are you doing?" Cyrus Hawthorne eyed her guilty expression, unable to resist pinching her cheek, which felt quite nice.
Ann Vaughn, nearly frightened into a heart attack, irritably smacked his hand away, "Looking for something to eat, is that not okay?"
She hadn’t eaten much at dinner, so she was hungry now and didn’t want to trouble anyone, prompting her to come down to find food herself.
Upon hearing this, Cyrus Hawthorne slightly furrowed his brows, "Next time you’re hungry, just call Uncle Dexter directly. He’ll take care of it."
With that, he gently lifted Ann Vaughn from in front of the fridge and sat her on a chair in the dining room, before returning to the kitchen.
When he emerged again, he was holding a plate of already sliced fruits, which he placed in front of Ann Vaughn, "Wait here for me, okay?"
Ann Vaughn absentmindedly agreed, glancing at Cyrus Hawthorne entering the kitchen, her bright eyes flashing slightly, her red lips pressing together.
By the time she had mostly finished the fruits in front of her, Cyrus Hawthorne came out of the kitchen with two bowls of noodles.
Before he even got close, the mouth-watering aroma was already wafting toward her.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s long sleeves were half-rolled up, revealing a small stretch of smoothly powerful forearm.
The white shirt he wore had two top buttons undone, inexplicably giving a divine-being-turned-mortal vibe.
"One bowl is enough for me." Ann Vaughn, still lost in thought, said upon seeing him bringing out two bowls of noodles.
Unexpectedly, Cyrus Hawthorne raised an amused eyebrow, "What, don’t want to let me eat?"
Ann Vaughn let out a sound of "Ah," realizing the foolishness of her words, and covered her face with her slender fingers before silently picking up the chopsticks beside her.
The broth, made from simmering pork bones, was rich, with a few thick slices of meat on top and a sprinkling of chopped green onions, making it particularly appetizing.
Ann Vaughn scooped some soup to taste and suddenly froze.
This taste...