Chapter 321: Chapter 321: Little Heartless One
But how could she possibly escape from the wolf’s mouth she had already entered?
In just a moment, she was pulled back into that broad embrace, her earlobe receiving a heavy bite, a hoarse and deep voice murmuring: "You heartless little thing, your chance is gone."
The moment she didn’t leave him right away, she had already lost her opportunity to escape.
Flirting with him and then planning to run? Did she think she could get away?
...
Two and a half hours had passed.
Mark Joyce had finally managed to send the guests who came upon hearing the news back, leaving only Jane Sheridan standing by.
"Special Assistant Joyce, I’m very sorry, I also don’t understand why such an accident occurred. Those guests must have been instigated by someone. I will definitely find out who caused the trouble and give Mr. Hawthorne a satisfactory explanation."
Her expression was sincere and serious, making one easily believe she was innocent too.
"We will investigate this matter ourselves, no need to trouble Miss Sheridan with it," Mark Joyce smiled politely, though inwardly he was a bit anxious.
It’s been so long, and Miss Vaughn still hasn’t come out. The situation inside might be worse than he thought.
Could it be that President Hawthorne did something to wrong Miss Vaughn, and in anger, she had a fight with him??
Whoever dared to lure President Hawthorne using Miss Vaughn’s name, whether a guest present or the host of this banquet, is suspicious and likely has ulterior motives.
So even though Jane Sheridan’s words seemed genuine, he had to weigh whether to believe them.
Jane Sheridan bit her lip, looking quite helpless, "Could I meet Mr. Hawthorne in person? As the host of the banquet, with such an incident occurring, I think it’s better to apologize to him personally."
"There’s no need for you to apologize, Jane Sheridan, because President Hawthorne wasn’t here to attend your banquet."
"What, what?"
"Actually, President Hawthorne was here for..."
Just then, the door behind them opened.
Mark Joyce and Jane Sheridan both turned their heads to see Cyrus Hawthorne stepping out of the room, carrying a petite woman cloaked in a trench coat.
He had a bit of moisture about him, with a clear and exquisite face that carried a hint of indolent sharpness, like a beast not yet satisfied.
"President Hawthorne!" Mark Joyce quickly approached him, seeing Ann Vaughn wrapped securely, her little face obscured by her hair, his heart tightened, "President Hawthorne, did you..."
Knock her out?!!
Oh my God!
"She’s asleep," Cyrus Hawthorne said in a low voice, immediately without a glance at the stiff-faced Jane Sheridan beside him, turning to instruct Mark Joyce, "Deal with the things inside."
Once he said that, he turned around carrying the person in his arms and entered the elevator.
Watching this scene, Jane Sheridan clenched her fists so tightly her fingernails nearly pierced her palms without her realizing it.
Mark Joyce ignored Jane Sheridan, leading people into the room to search through all suspicious items, then lifted the unconscious Cynthia Vaughn off the floor and tossed her out of the room.
When Jane Sheridan looked at Cynthia Vaughn’s face, nearly indistinguishable from all the scratches, her gaze turned somewhat somber.
She had guessed right, that useless person not only failed but was also discovered!
If she hadn’t sensed something wrong in time and distanced herself, she too might have been implicated by now.
"Miss Sheridan," Mark Joyce called out with a smile at the departing Jane Sheridan, "Could you please take your sister with you."
Jane turned her head with an unaffected smile, "You must have mistaken me, my sister is not this woman. Sorry to leave you."
With that, she turned and left without another glance at Cynthia Vaughn thrown on the ground.
To offend Mr. Hawthorne for such a useless person truly wasn’t worth it.
If only she had completed her task, but alas, haha.
...
Noon the next day.
In the European-style villa nestled halfway up the mountain.
Perhaps it was just Ann Vaughn’s imagination, but ever since returning to the country, her sleep seemed to be decreasing, getting scantier by the day.
She yawned, too lazy to put on shoes, walking on the plush carpet to freshen up before changing and going downstairs.
"Resend the information regarding the MX plan to my email. Have all members been assigned roles? Yes, the plane in the morning, we’ll discuss further when the time comes."
The magnetic and distant voice of a man resonated from the living room. Ann Vaughn approached, spotting that lone figure by the full-length window, exuding an air of cool majesty.
He still hadn’t given up on the plan.
Ann Vaughn furrowed her thin brows, not entering the living room and instead turned towards the dining room.
As she turned, Cyrus Hawthorne, standing by the window, seemed to sense something, glancing sideways just in time to catch a glimpse of her slender back as she left, a gentle touch appearing between his brows.
"Mr. Hawthorne, allow me to make a suggestion. You have spent four full years developing this plan to a significant scale. This isn’t just your effort, it’s the result of all the researchers. It would be a shame to give it up just like that!"
"I implore you to reconsider, not to abandon this plan. We will definitely strive harder..."
Before the words finished, Cyrus Hawthorne interrupted calmly and coldly: "I have my own considerations, just do as I said."
"Mr. Hawthorne, I find it unbelievable, are you not feeling regret for the manpower and resources you’ve spent over these years? You should know this is a great opportunity for Hawthorne Corp.!"
"Leon, don’t forget your position."
"...Apologies, Mr. Hawthorne. Regardless, I still hope you reflect on it thoroughly."
Cyrus Hawthorne ceased to speak further, his long fingers swiped to hang up the phone, his narrowed eyes slightly deepened.
Meanwhile.
After distractedly finishing her breakfast, Ann Vaughn returned to her room to catch up on sleep, but having overheard Cyrus Hawthorne’s conversation content, her mind was filled with thoughts on how to stop him from going abroad, unable to sleep.
Spotting the computer on the desk, Ann Vaughn simply got up and walked over, turning it on.
This computer wasn’t here last time, nor did it seem to have been used, it should have been newly delivered.
After checking for any eavesdropping devices and security issues, Ann Vaughn was finally at ease, but planted anti-eavesdropping and information theft software just in case before using it.
Upon entering the forum, Ann Vaughn received a message from Emperor, and upon opening it, she couldn’t help but twitch at the corners of her lips.
Emperor: Issue resolved, sorry to bother.
Such a distinctive style indeed.
Looking at the dim ID name, Ann Vaughn propped her chin with one hand, silently mouthing the word, whenever reminiscing felt like she had seen or heard it somewhere before.
Old Alley, red and white walls, vegetable noodle soup...
The moment this familiar scene sprang to mind, Ann Vaughn froze, had she once received a bowl of vegetable noodle soup from someone named "Emperor"?
It seemed it was snowing heavily at the time, she was waiting in that bone-chilling place for someone and was nearly frozen stiff from the wait.