Chapter 234: Chapter 234: If That Child Were Still Here
If that child were still here...
By now, they’d almost be four years old.
Cyrus Hawthorne slowly closed his eyes, containing the sorrow that was about to overflow, suppressing it for an unknown length of time.
It felt as if the heart, half emptied, was finally somewhat soothed and no longer unbearably painful.
If Ann Vaughn was his long-tormented obsession and unattainable desire in the past four years, that child was the regret of this life that he could never forget.
Impossible to forget in this lifetime.
...
Ann Vaughn’s ankle had healed after two days of rest, so she proposed leaving this place.
Unexpectedly, Cyrus Hawthorne did not restrict Ann Vaughn’s freedom any longer, and even arranged for Uncle Dexter to have someone take her to her destination when she wanted to leave the villa.
Though she couldn’t understand why Cyrus was suddenly so accommodating, for Ann Vaughn, it was good enough.
After having the Hawthorne Family driver drop her off at the intersection, she got into Sutton Jennings’s car as soon as he arrived.
"Here’s the access card. My people will assist you inside. Be careful and call me if there’s any issue," Sutton said, stopping the car at the back gate of the No. 9 Mental Sanitarium, somewhat worried as he advised Ann Vaughn, "Are you sure you don’t need me to go with you?"
"No need, it’s not a big deal. I’m just going to meet her briefly and will come back soon." Ann Vaughn shook her head, took the access card, and got out of the car.
The surrounding area of the No. 9’s back gate was deliberately overgrown with seemingly chaotic vines, obscuring the rusty letters on the plaque.
Tall trees were planted around, preventing outsiders from easily seeing inside.
After passing identity verification at the gate security, Ann Vaughn entered. Sutton’s arranged person quickly recognized her and naturally guided her further inside.
"The patient Lord Shane mentioned has a unique situation. You must ensure that you’re out within half an hour, or the guards will notice," he cautioned.
"I understand. Rest assured." Ann Vaughn nodded slightly, following the doctor without glancing around or showing curiosity about the place.
They reached the building at the end without anyone noticing the intrusion of an outsider.
The doctor took Ann Vaughn to the top floor and, after swiping the access card to enter, finally let Ann Vaughn in. "Hurry up; they will return in no more than half an hour."
"Thank you." Ann Vaughn didn’t dare delay, stepping quickly inside. Her slender fingers paused at the door of the room at the end and then pushed it open.
The space in the room was large, almost empty, with few pieces of furniture. The balcony railing had been sealed up, making it a completely enclosed space except for the ventilation.
Scanning the surroundings, Ann Vaughn’s eyes suddenly paused on the woman tied to the bed, hands and feet restrained.
She walked over and sat on a chair not far from the bed, looking at the disheveled woman who once exuded arrogance and rudeness. Her gaze was as calm as if she were looking at a stranger.
"Cynthia Vaughn."
Wearing a white hospital gown, Cynthia Vaughn appeared abruptly awake, her previously unfocused eyes staring blankly at Ann Vaughn, with her chapped lips suddenly curling into an eerie smile.
She didn’t speak, and Ann Vaughn was unbothered, merely remembering how four years ago she was almost dragged to death by Cynthia’s scheme, and let out a faintly derisive laugh.
"Once a person sows the seeds of evil, they inevitably harvest the fruits of evil. It’s not that retribution doesn’t come; it’s just not the right time yet. This phrase seems quite fitting for you, doesn’t it?"
"I’ve been wondering for a long time why Cyrus Hawthorne treated you so well, doted on you so much, yet you still saw me as a thorn in your side, wanting to eliminate me at all costs."
"It turns out all your confidence was merely a facade you put up. Once the lie got exposed, you were left with nothing, so you were always scared, am I right?"
Cynthia Vaughn, curled up on the bed, suddenly emitted a frightening hissing noise, as if threatening Ann Vaughn to shut up and forbidding her from saying more.
But Ann was unmoved, her gaze indifferent to the extreme, "Yet, for nineteen years of scheming, not only did you gain nothing, but you also ended up in this situation. Was it worth it?"
These words were locked in Ann Vaughn’s heart for many years, gathering dust over time yet still painful to touch.
For her, the Vaughn Family, and Cynthia Vaughn were the source of her pain.
She never understood why they were blood sisters, yet from childhood to adulthood were like mortal enemies, never stopping until blood was shed?
And why, as daughters, did their parents treat her and Cynthia so differently?
It would be a lie to say she wasn’t resentful.
Now seeing Cynthia’s miserable end, destined to spend her life in such an empty, desolate place, Ann felt no sympathy.
Whatever cause you plant, you will reap its fruit, with no one else to blame.
Ann Vaughn didn’t intend to say more. After standing up and glancing at Cynthia, who was still hissing, she indifferently said, "Spend your life here atoning for your sins."
As soon as she spoke, Cynthia trembled as if shocked by electricity, then lunged aggressively at Ann as she turned to leave!
Cynthia fiercely attacked, scratching and attempting to drag Ann back, her throat emitting terrifying, hoarse noises as if saying—
I won’t have it good; you’re coming to hell with me!!
Ann Vaughn felt a sharp pain at her scalp. Quickly regaining composure, she snatched her bag back from Cynthia, swiftly inserting a Golden Needle into an acupuncture point.
Cynthia Vaughn abruptly went limp, collapsing onto the bed, her tangled hair obscuring her face and revealing that grimacing visage, her mouth trembling as if speaking.
It was clear she wasn’t entirely mentally impaired, for she understood the meaning behind Ann’s words just now; otherwise, she wouldn’t have reacted so violently.
Even so, this life for her would probably end like this.
With time running out, Ann retrieved her Golden Needle, then decisively turned away without hesitation.
Just as she exited the room, Cynthia on the bed tightly clutched the strands of hair in her right hand along with—
The Longevity Jade pendant she had grabbed from Ann Vaughn’s bag.
Cynthia’s eyes gleamed with a near-crazy light as she stared at her right hand, issuing a hoarse chuckle from her throat.
...
After leaving the No. 9 Mental Sanitarium, Ann sat in the passenger seat, massaging her temples as a certain fatigue washed over her.
Recalling Cynthia’s earlier state was indeed somewhat unexpected for Ann Vaughn.
For someone once cherished and protected, the way Cyrus Hawthorne unconcernedly dealt with Cynthia was ruthless to the point of cold-bloodedness.