Chapter 298: Chapter 298: So, What’s Your Answer?
Jane Sheridan pushed away the woman in the cheongsam pressing against her and shouted around, "Are you all dead? Hurry up and grab her for me!"
The bodyguards hiding in the shadows: ...You didn’t instruct us to take action at the beginning, either.
Though they thought so, the six bodyguards swiftly moved towards Ann Vaughn, only to be stopped by a man just as they were about to catch up to her.
"That’s our Young Madam of the Hawthorne Group; anyone who dares to touch her, feel free to try," Mark Joyce smiled as he looked at the six bodyguards.
Two rows of burly men in black behind him stood out with their sheer intimidating presence.
The six bodyguards: ...No, actually we’re just six walnuts, aiming to improve our brainpower, not intending to cause trouble!
On the other side.
Ann Vaughn exited the Sheridan Family’s gates, ready to get into the car, when she noticed a captivating black Maybach parked not far away.
She hesitated slightly, her slender fingers clenched on the car door, forcing herself to look away, then got into the Sheridan Family’s car.
All the way to the hotel, even without looking back, Ann Vaughn could feel that the black Maybach was following just the right distance behind their car.
Fortunately, until she entered her room, the person in the car did not follow her up.
Ann Vaughn took a deep breath, calming down, placed her coat on the sofa, and walked over to the window to look down.
The black Maybach was already gone.
It seems they’ve left.
For a moment, Ann Vaughn couldn’t tell if she felt relieved or lost, turning around to gaze in wonder at the almost completed black jade on the table.
Was it him?
How could he possibly show up here?
She had already spoken so resolutely that day; he probably would never show up in front of her again.
That should have been her wish, but why did her heart, as if filled with gas, suddenly prick open, causing almost unbearable pain?
Ann Vaughn squeezed her eyes shut, struggling not to think of these things, put on her coat again, and left the room.
She randomly picked a restaurant for dinner and then aimlessly walked down the street, feeling the chill of early winter, hoping to calm herself down.
Suddenly, a hint of coldness touched the tip of her reddened nose, causing Ann Vaughn to pause.
She lifted her head, seeing snowflakes falling from the sky, lightly cool and moist on her face.
This year’s first snow seemed to come a bit early.
Ann Vaughn blew warm air into her palms, ready to look away, but noticed something else amidst the snowflakes.
Upon taking a closer look, she saw a red object slowly descending toward her, instinctively reaching out to catch it.
It turned out to be a rose, still adorned with dewdrops, looking very fresh and inviting.
A hint of delight sparkled in Ann Vaughn’s eyes, but she noticed a card tied to the rose’s stem with delicate handwriting.
"In this complex, distant world of hopelessness, the hardest to relinquish isn’t life, it’s you."
Upon reading the words, Ann Vaughn let out a stifled laugh. Where did this cheesy line come from? It’s not in her book.
The second rose settled into her hands, similarly attached with a card.
Then came the third rose, the fourth... until Ann Vaughn found herself holding a small bouquet, each rose accompanied by a written card.
Each phrase seemed like hot stones leaving a mark on Ann Vaughn’s heart; even with the cold wind, it felt less bitter.
Eventually, as Ann Vaughn’s eyes became slightly moist, she read the last one.
"The star I vainly tried to reach is in your eyes."
This man, even rare in articulating romance, writes awkwardly arrogant love notes.
"Woof woof~"
With a tender sound, Ann Vaughn felt something soft brushing against her feet, prompting her to look down.
She saw an entirely white, round and plush puppy carrying a striking Louis XIV rose on its back, a tag hanging around its chubby neck.
Those grape-like eyes looked at her, exuding irresistible charm.
Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but think of Kenny, crouching to pat the puppy’s head.
Only then did she notice what was inscribed on the puppy’s tag.
"Miss Ann Vaughn, given how cute I am, can you forgive Mr. Cyrus Hawthorne?"
"Haha, you’re just a little pup, how did you manage a side job?" Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but laugh, eyes curving into crescent shapes as she picked up the tag, noticing the intentionally cute handwriting.
Thinking of that man frowning, gloomily writing these words, Ann Vaughn chuckled, even tearing up slightly at the corners of her eyes.
The dust settling in her heart for years was like suddenly being brushed away, revealing its contents.
As Kenny once said, neither were actually wrong.
They simply had different methods of protecting those they cared about, unable to erase the heartfelt intention within.
Subconsciously, she wanted to run away, afraid to face it, only lacking the courage from four years ago to love recklessly.
As for the bit of anger inside...
"So, what’s your answer?"
A low, magnetic voice sounded above Ann Vaughn’s head, causing her to loosen her hold on the pup and look up instinctively.
She saw a tall, elegant figure walking towards her through the thin snow; his form tall and upright, wrapped in a black coat that made his features appear more stern and distant.
Only those deep black eyes expressed lingering tender warmth.
In Ann Vaughn’s eyes, it was as if a stone had been thrown in, stirring ripples upon ripples.
Perhaps at this moment, all resentment and grievances dispersed completely.
Cyrus Hawthorne stared at Ann Vaughn with dark, narrow eyes, somewhat mystifying, seemingly bottling up emotions from over the days, raging like a secret fire, burning only where she couldn’t see.
His adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he looked at Ann Vaughn’s pale face and thin coat, voice mildly deepening, "Why are you dressed so lightly?"
"I..." Ann Vaughn was about to speak but saw him suddenly open his arms, forcefully enveloping her within his coat, wrapping her securely.
The faint cool fragrance from him overwhelmed Ann Vaughn’s senses, the skin exposed outside touched by his warmth, involuntarily shrank.
A red blush spread across Ann Vaughn’s cheeks, her gaze flickering, mumbling, "I’m not even cold..."
Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips curled slightly, then he took her small hand, pressing it against her cheek.
Instantly chilled, Ann Vaughn’s shoulder shrank, glaring at him in mild annoyance, only to be held closer, her face pressed against his warm chest.
Even his steady heartbeat resonating through, each thump seemed to reverberate within her heart, unsettling even the rhythm of her own heartbeat.