Chapter 184: Chapter 184: Her Information Was Encrypted
The crowd: Hahaha, that’s hilarious, trying to sell your sob story and haggle with My King? Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?
Spade J: No! Please no, boss! If I can’t afford food, I might get shocked by an electric eel, but without the blueprints, my life is over!
Watching Spade J pull out emoji after emoji begging for mercy, Kenny’s little mouth curled into a sly smile. Bargaining with him won’t work.
He’s already generous enough not to inflate the price, and yet they want to touch the money that’s already gone into his piggy bank!
Lord: @Spade J, if you can’t afford it, give up your spot. I’m ready to collaborate with @My King anytime.
Spade J: Bah! Who said I don’t have money? Even if I have to pawn everything, I won’t betray My King’s trust in me!
Just then, Emperor’s message popped in, and Kenny clicked it open.
Emperor: Received the blueprints, remember to check the final payment.
My King: No need, I trust you when it comes to our collaborations.
After typing this, Kenny suddenly remembered something and switched to another screen to check Emperor’s specific address...
The location map on the screen zoomed in little by little, the red dot flashing more noticeably.
However, just as it was about to successfully locate, the screen suddenly flickered and turned blank.
Kenny raised his eyebrows in surprise. It’s the first time he’s been intercepted while trying to trace an address.
Emperor: Trying to trace me?
My King: Just a friendly exchange, don’t worry.
Emperor: So far, no one has been able to break into the security system I set up; you’re the first.
If he hadn’t reacted in time, he might have really fallen into this kid’s hands.
Kenny immediately sent a cute emoji to gloss over it, his little mouth muttering, "Almost tracked down this bad guy’s hideout."
Among those he’s worked with, Emperor is the one who most frequently requests weapon blueprints, and extremely powerful ones at that.
Although many places are unstable now, what if he’s using the stuff Kenny designed to do bad things?
In fact, Kenny has secretly backed up information about past collaborators; what they use his tools for isn’t beyond his knowledge.
Only this Emperor’s background has eluded Kenny so far.
Speaking of tracking people, Kenny couldn’t help but remember an incident.
The woman he encountered last night at the hot spring looked at Mommy with such a strange gaze. When Mommy saw her, her expression seemed off, clearly like they knew each other.
And that woman called his Mommy "sis-in-law"?
But Mommy clearly said she dreamed when she was pregnant with Kenny that Grandpa God told her he would send her this little Angel, and the next day he was in her belly.
That’s why Kenny didn’t have a daddy—because he’s a little Angel.
Although this kid’s tale is obviously fake, Kenny never thought of having a daddy except during Annie’s toughest two years.
Plus, since Annie never mentioned it, Kenny sensitively avoided asking.
But now a figure, possibly his daddy’s sister, suddenly appeared, causing Mommy to reveal such a sad and shocked expression, forcing Kenny to pay attention.
Uncle Jennings also mentioned that S Country is Mommy’s hometown, but why has Mommy never talked about this place?
Thinking about it, Kenny closed the chat window, his chubby little hands quickly tapping away at the keyboard.
Seeing the bold red "Prohibited" word, Kenny raised his little eyebrows, surprised to find his Mommy’s data encrypted by someone else; why is that?
Not long after, a woman’s photo appeared at the top of the computer screen, followed by detailed information, and... her current residence.
The night fell, silence reigned.
Located in the city’s prime central area, The Zenith Hotel, top floor presidential suite.
The Swarovski crystal chandelier on the ceiling emitted a soft glow, the room was comfortably warm, with clean windows and furnishings in a mix of Central European century-old retro style.
On the burgundy sectional sofa, a man sat in the middle, his long legs elegantly crossed, flipping through documents with focus.
The light enveloping him added an inexplicable sense of solitude.
The elevator doors opened directly into the suite; Mark Joyce, followed by a waiter pushing a food cart, entered the room.
"President Hawthorne, you haven’t eaten all day, the doctor previously instructed it’s vital for you to have three meals on time. I’ve had the hotel’s kitchen prepare some food for you, please eat a little." Mark advised respectfully at the table.
Cyrus Hawthorne didn’t raise his eyes, casually uttering, "Hmm."
Mark secretly sighed in relief; mealtimes were like battles, no matter how much he persuaded, President Hawthorne almost never ate on time.
Sometimes, without reminders, he completely forgot that humans need to eat.
Following Mark’s instructions, the waiter arranged the meal dishes on the table one by one and added a glass incense diffuser.
"Please enjoy." The waiter said hoarsely, indistinguishable whether male or female.
"President Hawthorne, please enjoy, we’ll head out now." Mark made a gesture, and then both exited via the elevator.
The room fell silent again, with only the continued sound of turning pages.
After a long time, the man sitting on the sofa set down the reviewed documents, massaging his temples, his narrow eyes reflecting a cold light.
He stood up, seemingly oblivious to the delicious feast on the table, shed his jacket, and entered the bathroom.
Soon, the frosted glass door of the bathroom displayed a suggestively long silhouette.
The faint aroma pervaded the room before long.
The bathroom door swung open, Cyrus walked toward the large bed with his hair damp, clad only in a robe as his previously clear mind slowly became muddled, consciousness hazy.
After over half an hour, the elevator doors opened again.
The recently departed waiter entered again, their eyes fixed directly on Cyrus’s direction, reaching up to remove their cap.
Long, waterfall-like black hair cascaded down to their waist, revealing an exquisite, stunning face as beautiful as a dream.
Ann Vaughn removed the round tag from her neck while moving to the table and extinguishing the incense before approaching the large bed.
The man had one hand covering half of his face, only exposing his slightly parted pale, thin lips, his skin abnormally flushed, combining with his cold and abstinent aura, inexplicably seductive.
Yet, even without seeing the face, Ann Vaughn’s mind clearly conjured up the image of his heartless and ruthless past.