Chapter 364: Chapter 364: The Person He Treasures Most
The cool breeze didn’t stop it; instead, it intensified the itchy and unbearable feeling, instantly draining all of Ann Vaughn’s strength, leaving her limply collapsed on the ground.
Suddenly, Sutton Jennings, who was standing by the sofa, made a move.
Ann Vaughn’s eyes narrowed, and the anxiety in her heart was about to overflow from her eyes, fixating on his direction, not daring to look away for even a moment.
She fiercely pinched her palm, trying to use the pain to wake up her gradually muddled brain.
Because the one who called her here was Susie Sommers, she couldn’t possibly carry any self-defense powder on her. The Golden Needle was with her, but it was in the bag very close to Sutton Jennings.
No matter which option, she couldn’t do it now.
Sutton Jennings seemed to have noticed something strange with the flowers in the room, directly throwing all the vases onto the terrace and then closing the window.
The scent in the room faded a bit, but the lingering effect in the body would only worsen over time, unavoidable.
"Have you... forgiven him?" Leaning against the sofa, Sutton Jennings spoke suddenly, his flushed face extending down his neck.
Ann Vaughn didn’t speak; in fact, her brain nerves were so disrupted that she had lost the ability to think, and massage on pressure points provided little relief.
She tightly clutched her collar with her small hand, an instinctive gesture as if she was a wary little animal, allowing no one to come near.
Blood oozing from her fingertips formed a small puddle on the ground, piercing Sutton Jennings’s eyes.
She would rather harm herself to withstand it, not allowing him to touch her.
If he disregarded her wishes and forced himself on her, what would happen...
The thought had just arisen when Sutton Jennings painfully closed his eyes, and immediately, with his hand as a knife, he harshly struck his own nape!
If he truly did that, he would surely despise himself.
She was the one he cherished the most.
The dazed Ann Vaughn suddenly heard a muffled groan. Looking up, she saw Sutton Jennings collapsed on the sofa, unclear whether he was asleep or passed out.
Ann Vaughn felt a sudden joy, slightly released her bloody palm, intending to stand up and gather her bag and phone.
But as soon as she took two steps, her body, ravaged by the drugs excessively without relief, uncontrollably collapsed.
The scene before her eyes grew increasingly blurry, and Ann Vaughn wanted to open her mouth to seek help, but only sweet, weak moans escaped her lips...
After an unknown amount of time.
A pounding knock on the door came from the entrance, waking up the fainted Ann Vaughn.
Regaining consciousness, she quickly glanced at the sofa, finding Sutton Jennings still unconscious, and regardless of how unwell she felt, she hurriedly ran over, picked up her bag, and retrieved the Golden Needle inside.
The heat within her body evaporated as the Golden Needle pierced in, and the gnawing numb itch slowly dissipated.
Ann Vaughn heavily exhaled a turbid breath, stood up, walked to the sofa, and inserted the Golden Needle into Sutton Jennings’s arm pressure points. After two attempts, she withdrew the needle.
The drug he took was much stronger than hers, hence the need for two attempts.
The knocking at the door grew louder, and Ann Vaughn picked up her belongings and arranged them, walking to the door, initially just wanting to test if she could open it.
But then...
She pressed lightly, and the door opened.
The people outside stormed in, and amidst a blinding flash of lights, a bunch of "long guns and short cannons" directly aimed at Ann Vaughn’s face.
"Miss Vaughn, may we know which male appeared with you here late at night?"
"Miss Vaughn, it’s rumored that after you divorced Mr. Hawthorne, you went abroad. Was the divorce because you found a new lover?"
"It’s said you were divorced due to infidelity during marriage. Is this true?"
"Miss Vaughn, could you introduce your new boyfriend to us? And perhaps give Mr. Hawthorne a blessing?"
Ann Vaughn was pushed back by these people, her mind blank to the extreme, her face losing all color, turning dreadfully pale.
Why are there reporters...
Seeing these reporters about to push Ann Vaughn aside and rush into the room to take photos, with no way to stop them.
A dozen black-suited bodyguards walked in unison, and without reservation, pulled each reporter trying to advance out, forcefully creating a path.
At this moment, a tall, imposing figure emerged from the other side.
In a stiff, black designer handmade suit, he exuded a straight posture, cold and distinguished, even walking past a dozen tall, sharp-aura bodyguards, he stood out.
The powerful, stern ambiance he radiated suppressed the entire scene, quickly silencing the noise.
Only when the figure entered her view did Ann Vaughn lift her reddened eyes, and upon seeing the man’s face before her, she was instantly stunned.
Before she regained sense, the man draped a black coat over her slightly disheveled body and lifted her horizontally in his arms.
As he turned, he saw Sutton Jennings lying on the sofa through the living room’s screen, a sharpness flashed in his eyes, gradually becoming cold.
No one dared to stop his steps; the reporters could only watch them walk away.
All the way downstairs, out of the establishment.
Cyrus Hawthorne placed Ann Vaughn in the back seat, raised his hand to pull off the tie and tossed it aside, exerting enough force to tear away two buttons on the collar.
"Get out."
Recognizing that the words were directed at him, Mark Joyce dared not hesitate even for a moment and immediately left the car.
Once he was gone, the atmosphere in the car turned somewhat oppressive and urgent.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s handsome brows held impenetrable frost, his gaze falling on Ann Vaughn carried no warmth.
He leaned forward, enclosing Ann Vaughn within his arms, directly facing her reddened eyes, speaking in a cold tone, "Explain."
Ann Vaughn shivered from the coldness in his eyes, her slender fingers tightening her clothes, throat dry.
At the time in the room, she only felt discomfort and suffocation, desperately wanting to escape that place immediately, without any other emotions.
But now, grievance mixed with bitterness seeped into her heart, uncontrollably overwhelming her.
"I thought the person in the room was Susie Sommers, who knew it would be Sutton Jennings, and he was affected by that kind of drug, almost scaring me to death!" Recalling the scene, Ann Vaughn’s eyes reddened again.
It was simply a disaster!
"Someone also put aphrodisiac flowers in the room, I accidentally inhaled some, endured until I fainted from exhaustion, and woke up to find those reporters outside the door..."
Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression remained icy, looking at Ann Vaughn’s reddened eyes filled with a mist of water, his frustration in his heart intensified.
Suddenly, he lowered his head, his thin lips pressing onto hers, and in the next second, he bit down heavily on her lips, the thick taste of blood instantly spreading between their mouths.