Chapter 633: Chapter 633: When Was I Ever Not Well-Behaved?
"Dr. Vaughn, you look unwell. Is something wrong with your body?" A nurse approached and asked softly.
Upon hearing the voice, Ann Vaughn’s eyes shot open, her unfocused pupils trembling slightly as she stared blankly at the ground for a long moment.
When she slowly came back to her senses, she realized her back was drenched in sweat.
"I’m fine. Has the surgery finished?" Ann Vaughn exhaled a breath, steadied her emotions, and asked.
The nurse nodded and replied, "It just ended. The lead surgeon asked you to go over for a moment."
"Alright."
Ann Vaughn rubbed her arm, where she had unconsciously pinched hard earlier, and walked over to the operating table, noticing the doctors looking at her with peculiar expressions.
"...What’s wrong?" She glanced at them questioningly, extending her hand to check Bella Hawthorne’s pulse, who was still unconscious.
"The surgery went smoothly," the lead surgeon said with a complex tone, "smoother than expected."
None of the complications and crisis scenarios they had envisioned pre-surgery had occurred.
It was nothing short of miraculous.
The lead surgeon, growing increasingly curious, couldn’t help but ask Ann Vaughn, "Dr. Vaughn, I wonder if you have time; we would like to discuss the purpose of those needles with you."
After checking Bella Hawthorne’s pulse, Ann Vaughn heard the lead surgeon’s words and replied, "Certainly, when there’s an opportunity."
Once the lights in the operating room went out, the doctors and nurses wheeled the still-unconscious Bella Hawthorne out of the room and into a ward.
Ann Vaughn was the last to leave, her face still pale, her mind cluttered with chaotic images making her head throb, longing for a place to rest.
In a moment of distraction, the tip of her foot caught on something, and by inertia, she lost her balance, falling forward.
The expected face-plant disaster didn’t happen. Instead, the uncontrolled forward-leaning Ann Vaughn fell into a broad, warm chest and came to a stop.
"In such a hurry to throw yourself into my arms?" A slightly teasing, cool voice sounded above Ann Vaughn’s head.
She dumbfoundedly lifted her head to see that familiar handsome face from her memories, currently smiling slightly before her eyes.
Ann Vaughn’s body shivered involuntarily, her hands instinctively clenching tight.
On any other day, she would have probably retorted angrily to him already.
Seeing her unresponsive and her complexion off, Cyrus Hawthorne’s brows knitted slightly as he encircled her in his arms, noticing that she was trembling.
A glimmer of understanding flashed through Cyrus Hawthorne’s deep-set eyes. He lifted a hand to gently pat her back, speaking in a low voice, "I’m here."
Since receiving news from Mark Joyce that Ann Vaughn had entered the operating room, his focus had wavered during his meeting, unusually unsettled.
The meeting barely lasted ten minutes before he quickly ended it and rushed over.
As expected, he was right.
"There won’t be an accident like four years ago," Cyrus Hawthorne murmured, his breath warm against Ann Vaughn’s ear as he promised, "I guarantee it."
It was as if someone struggling in an icy lake raised their hands high in desperation, only to be rescued effortlessly by someone.
The heart soaked in cold water inside Ann Vaughn gradually warmed, with her numbed limbs regaining sensation.
The memories tearing at her mind frantically finally stilled, dissolving into fragments, disappearing amidst the gentle breath she felt by her ear.
No further promises were needed, nor any explanation required.
For him to understand that her trembling and sorrow were due to the incident four years ago, and not anything else, was enough.
At this moment, Mark Joyce hurriedly approached with a bag, handing the contents over to Cyrus Hawthorne, "President Hawthorne, here’s what you requested."
With someone else present, Ann Vaughn felt awkward to linger in Cyrus Hawthorne’s embrace, but as she tried to slip out, she found herself held firmly in place by his grip.
"...Let me go!" Ann Vaughn muttered softly.
Cyrus Hawthorne didn’t comply but instead took the items from Mark Joyce and dismissed him.
"Eat something to replenish your strength." Sitting down on a nearby bench with one arm around Ann Vaughn, Cyrus Hawthorne pulled her onto his lap, wrapping both arms around her waist.
"Don’t you need to check on Bella’s condition first?" Ann Vaughn had no choice but to take the bag, peeking inside to find Black Swan’s cake rolls and a hot drink.
The cake seemed to be a new flavor, one she hadn’t seen during her previous visits to the store.
Cyrus Hawthorne casually pulled out the hot drink, inserting the straw and bringing it to her lips, "You noted the condition before leaving the operating room."
The doctors had briefed him thoroughly on the surgical status before moving Bella Hawthorne to the ward.
But Ann Vaughn, who came out late and distracted, naturally overlooked this.
Ann Vaughn uttered an "Oh," naturally biting the straw and sipping a few times, her eyes suddenly lighting up, "Is it a new flavor?"
The velvet-smooth texture was sweet and laden with fruit bits that burst with tartness upon biting, perfectly balanced with the sweetness.
"Yes." Cyrus Hawthorne’s long fingers brushed through her hair, observing her delighted expression, his sharp eyes softening slightly.
For some reason, seeing her beaming face made him inexplicably happy.
"Previously, the cake you got me from the Chambers Family in Marinia—I later asked at Black Swan, and they said it was not for sale," Ann Vaughn said, enjoying both cake roll and hot drink, "If I knew, I would’ve finished it since it’s no longer available."
Cyrus Hawthorne slightly raised an eyebrow, "As long as you’re good, you can have it."
"...When am I not good!?"
As she finished her complaint, Ann Vaughn heard a low murmur in her ear. Mid-chew, her cheeks suddenly froze.
Next, her entire face flushed with a brilliant blush, her eyes misting due to the heat spreading across her face.
"Cyrus Hawthorne!!!"
The bed, my foot!!
If he were gentler, how could she not... participate...?!
...
After the surgery, Ann Vaughn hadn’t removed the Golden Needle from Bella Hawthorne’s body. Otherwise, if she woke up now, she would still feel a twinge of pain.
The fact that Bella Hawthorne was pregnant had been kept secret by Cyrus Hawthorne, unknown even to the Hawthorne Family, leaving only Ann Vaughn and Cyrus Hawthorne to accompany her in the hospital.
By evening, Ann Vaughn could no longer ignore the hopeful glances Mark Joyce was casting and persuaded The Archfiend, who intended to work in the ward, to return to the company.
After all, Bella Hawthorne wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, missing a bit of time wouldn’t matter.
Once Cyrus Hawthorne left, without the disruptive presence, Ann Vaughn could finally calm down to think about the scar removal cream formula.