Chapter 400: Chapter 400: She’s Not, They’re Divorced
"Your man handles business quite well." Cyrus Hawthorne raised an eyebrow lightly, speaking in a calm voice.
"..." Did that mean she could disturb him whenever she wanted?
Mark Joyce, who followed behind, heard this and mentally gave Ann Vaughn a thumbs up.
Miss Vaughn is impressive; in such a short time, she’s managed to calm down the boss who came here furious.
Elias Hawthorne silently watched the scene unfold before him. He turned to leave but was stopped by that cold, commanding voice, "Can’t even greet me?"
Elias turned back reluctantly, lowering his head to speak, "Brother."
"Hmm?" Cyrus Hawthorne glanced down slightly, gently rubbing the furry top of Ann Vaughn’s head with his palm.
Elias’s expression grew even more unwilling, and a hint of grievance was evident in his emotionless light blue eyes as he looked at Ann Vaughn and said, "Sis."
That "Sis" made Ann Vaughn almost feel like she had mistakenly wandered into a gangster film, it was truly shocking.
The Hawthorne Family doesn’t lack peers older than Cyrus Hawthorne, but Ann Vaughn had never met most of them, not even the main family, as Cyrus Hawthorne had never brought her there.
The reason was clear to her back then, simply because she wasn’t qualified.
And given the Hawthorne Family’s deep heritage and century-long history, they must have a pile of cumbersome rules; a single mistake could offend someone.
Back then, she even felt relieved that Cyrus Hawthorne never mentioned bringing her to the main family...
Aware she couldn’t alarm Cyrus Hawthorne now, Ann Vaughn didn’t correct Elias’s address, nodded faintly at him.
She didn’t ask why Elias wasn’t part of the Hawthorne Family yet called Cyrus Hawthorne "Brother."
After all, they’d need to show their true colors eventually; there was no need to know too much.
"She’s not." Unexpectedly, Elias stubbornly added, "Divorced."
Even Elias knew they were divorced, but she, the one involved, was the last to know.
Ann Vaughn’s mouth twitched as she pressed down the bitterness in her chest, glaring at Elias, "Brat, calling me sis and now backing out? Bullying your good-natured brother, huh?"
"No..."
"Quinn, let’s go! Don’t bother with him!" With that, Ann Vaughn half-dragged Cyrus Hawthorne by the arm to leave.
Elias: "..."
Mark Joyce: "..."
Someone who didn’t know might think Elias was provoking the boss, Miss Vaughn’s way of shifting the blame was truly... innovative.
But accidentally seeing the faint tolerance on Cyrus Hawthorne’s face, Mark Joyce realized, shifting well is not as good as catching well...
In the CEO’s office.
As soon as the door behind was closed, Ann Vaughn saw a shadow cast over her.
"Stay away from Elias."
"He’s not someone you should be close to."
The blush blooming on Ann Vaughn’s little face like March peach blossoms gradually faded, the embarrassment and tremor in her bright eyes also calmed down, pursing her red lips.
Without saying a word, she withdrew from his embrace and walked towards the sofa, taking out her phone once she sat down.
The little temper came and went, causing Cyrus Hawthorne to slightly furrow his brow.
Did she not want to keep her distance from Elias?
Or... did she also believe in Elias’s seemingly harmless side?
Neither of them spoke, allowing the office to plunge into a suspiciously stagnant silence.
After about ten minutes, Mark Joyce knocked and entered, feeling the cold gaze from behind the desk cut through him, causing a shiver.
What’s happening?
Did the boss and Miss Vaughn have an argument?
Weren’t things fine just a moment ago?
After some thoughts passed, Mark Joyce carefully spoke, holding the delivery box, "President Hawthorne, Miss Vaughn’s takeout has arrived..."
Cyrus Hawthorne: "..."
"Thank you, Special Assistant Joyce."
"You’re too kind."
Ann Vaughn took the takeaway from Mark Joyce, not giving the man with the sullen expression a single glance, opening the box to take out her ordered meal.
Earlier, she might have worried about him not eating and his stomach issues flaring up.
But now, she’s been suspected of being a scheming woman who deliberately approached Elias; moving closer would only invite trouble for herself.
Whether he eats or not, as long as it doesn’t starve her, it’s fine!
Holding this thought, Ann Vaughn’s chopstick movements were fierce, causing Mark Joyce to wish he could leave this terrifying place.
Could Miss Vaughn be taking her anger out on the food, considering it as President Hawthorne?
Indeed, he accurately guessed the truth.
Ann Vaughn viciously bit into a crystal shrimp dumpling, and before she could swallow, her face changed suddenly, dropping her chopsticks as she sprinted to the restroom like a little cannonball.
"Ugh."
The feeling stuck in her throat mingling with the nausea made Ann Vaughn’s face pale, her lips losing all color.
Just as Mark Joyce intended to ask if Ann Vaughn needed a doctor, the man who had sat steadily behind the desk suddenly got up and walked swiftly to the restroom, no longer calm.
Upon seeing Ann Vaughn sitting directly on the cold floor due to sudden weakness, Cyrus Hawthorne’s face darkened, going forward to pick her up and leave the restroom.
"Call the doctor," he instructed Mark Joyce, carrying Ann Vaughn to the lounge.
Upon hearing this, Ann Vaughn immediately stopped him, "No need for a doctor, I’m fine."
"Fine but vomiting like this?" Cyrus Hawthorne gazed at her with displeasure, his jaw tightening slightly.
"It’s just your fault! I can’t breathe; feeling uncomfortable is normal!" Already upset, Ann Vaughn forgot her plan and retorted without thinking.
"..." Cyrus Hawthorne pressed his lips tightly for a moment, then said to Mark Joyce, "Tell Celestial Pavilion to send some light dishes over, and make a cup of ginger tea."
"Got it, President Hawthorne." Mark Joyce agreed and went out to do it.
A moment later, Ann Vaughn rubbed the acupoint on her wrist, and the discomfort in her stomach quickly vanished.
To be so pathetic as to be too distressed to eat her beloved shrimp dumplings made Ann Vaughn feel deeply conflicted.
Before she could fully process her feelings, a cup of ginger tea was already at her lips, accompanied by the man’s deep voice, "Drink."
Ann Vaughn: "..."
"No." Ann Vaughn turned her face away, pushing his hand in defiance, "My stomach isn’t uncomfortable anymore."
Upon hearing this, Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyebrows furrowed deeper, his expression growing cold, "Do you like Elias?"