Mr. Hawthorne, Your Wife Wants a Divorce Again-Chapter 1020: How Could There Be No Misgivings?

Chapter 1020: Chapter 1020: How Could There Be No Misgivings?

Oh no.

Kenny blinked his eyes and suddenly felt a chill down his spine.

Ann Vaughn noticed his suddenly cautious expression and couldn’t help but laugh, "Don’t worry, Mommy’s not here to settle scores with you. I’m just guessing if there’s a special reason you and your dad hid your identities to get close to me."

If she hadn’t sensed this, Ann wouldn’t have settled things with Cyrus Hawthorne so easily last night.

Absolutely no admitting that there was any temptation involved!

Kenny hesitated for a moment, then briefly explained the whole situation to Ann Vaughn. Seeing she wasn’t troubled by it, he felt relieved.

After hearing Kenny’s explanation, Ann Vaughn was silent for a long time before a smile slowly formed on her lips.

"So, that’s how it is."

Thinking back, her headaches first began when she heard the name "Cyrus Hawthorne" from Kressiel’s mouth.

The second and third times were the same.

But before yesterday, she hadn’t had a headache in some time, and she even thought her headaches were cured.

But they weren’t.

Even if hearing Cyrus Hawthorne’s name no longer gave her headaches, even if she had accepted in her heart that James Vaughn was her ex-husband Cyrus Hawthorne, even if... she still liked him.

It couldn’t change the fact that remembering him made her feel unbearable pain.

Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but wonder whether those lingering emotions in her mind were born out of love or hate...

Or perhaps both?

Unable to figure it out, Ann decided to ask Cyrus directly instead of dwelling on it.

"Kenny, where’s your dad now?"

"Dad’s in a meeting at the company, Uncle Joyce said the meeting hasn’t ended yet." Little Dumpling answered truthfully.

The enthusiasm Ann Vaughn had just mustered up suddenly dissipated. After thinking it over, the path to Cyrus wasn’t accessible at the moment, but there was another path.

Five minutes later, Ryan Wyatt was brought into the living room by Sept.

"Miss Vaughn, is there something you need from me?" Ryan Wyatt smiled ingratiatingly, "Whatever it is, just leave it to me, and I’ll get it done perfectly for you!"

Ann Vaughn felt goosebumps at his sycophantic attitude and couldn’t help but sit back a bit, studying him with her eyes.

"Previously in Gothasen, after I fell asleep, Warren Vance brought you in and said something. At that time, I didn’t understand what he meant. I’m still somewhat confused, so I’d like you to help clear it up for me."

Ryan Wyatt was startled, lowered his head, and replied, "Miss Vaughn, please tell me."

Ann Vaughn smiled slightly, looking warm and harmless, "Warren Vance said, ’I only asked you to control her behavior, not to mess with her nerves and make her lose her memory...’ Can you explain what he meant by this?"

"This..." Ryan Wyatt was at a loss for words.

Warren Vance was his master. If he disobeyed his orders and told Ann everything, it would be treason.

But now, he was at Cyrus’s mercy. If he didn’t speak, those four daily pork knuckles would be gone...

Seeing Ryan Wyatt’s hesitation, Ann Vaughn said, "Don’t worry, regardless of the truth, I won’t make things difficult for you. I just want to understand what Warren Vance meant by controlling my behavior and causing my memory loss."

At this point, Ryan Wyatt knew those matters couldn’t be concealed any longer, so he decided to confess.

"This matter is actually quite lengthy. The prince discovered you and..."

Just as he was beginning, Ryan Wyatt’s eyes suddenly widened, bloodshot and bulging slightly, his face turning ashen, while scarlet blood kept flowing from his open mouth!

Bang—

Ryan Wyatt collapsed, motionless for a long time, then a pitch-black bat flew from the back of his neck, darting towards the skylight.

The sudden change happened in a flash.

Ann Vaughn was stunned beyond belief by what unfolded before her eyes. Just as she was about to step forward to check if Ryan Wyatt was still alive, both Sept and Hex simultaneously stopped her.

"Miss Vaughn, please step back to avoid any danger."

"Is he dead?" Ann Vaughn’s face turned pale, her delicate fingers trembled at her sides, and her voice quivered.

Sept looked at Hex, who was crouching beside Ryan Wyatt. Seeing Hex nod, he then addressed Ann Vaughn, whose face was grim, "Miss Vaughn, please go upstairs and rest, we’ll handle things here, don’t worry."

How could she not worry?

One moment a person is fine, and the next, they die before you in such a horrific manner. Who wouldn’t be scared?

...

Late at night.

Upon receiving the call from Villa No. 8, Cyrus Hawthorne rushed back in the shortest time possible.

The maid had just finished cooking congee and was about to take it upstairs. Seeing Cyrus return, she greeted him with respect, "Good evening, sir."

"How’s Annie now?" Cyrus casually draped his suit jacket over his arm, his tone calm, but his tightly furrowed brows and serious expression made it clear how he was feeling.

"Miss Vaughn isn’t sleeping well, threw up several times when taking medicine, can’t eat anything, the low fever won’t go away. Dr. Silas Lowell just gave her an IV and left not long ago..." As Cyrus’s expression grew colder, the maid’s voice lowered.

"Give me the congee."

"Y-yes."

Cyrus carried the congee and medicine upstairs, walking steadily to the bedside. By the light of the wall lamp, he immediately spotted the curled-up, petite figure on the bed.

His footsteps were barely audible, almost silent, yet Ann Vaughn awoke the moment he arrived, her eyes widening with fear and panic, cold sweat breaking out on her back!

But when she saw that incredibly handsome face under the wall lamp, the fear gripping her heart slowly dissipated.

"You’re back..." Ann Vaughn forced a small smile, placing her hand in Cyrus’s outstretched palm for support to sit up.

Cyrus, noting her pale face, touched her sweaty forehead with a frown.

"Can you eat something?" he asked softly.

"I have no appetite, don’t want to eat." Ann Vaughn shook her head lightly, her small hand tightly covering her stomach.

She was hungry, but Ann Vaughn really couldn’t eat anything.

Just thinking about the scene from earlier made her stomach churn with acid, feeling both pain and nausea, unable to keep anything down, even if forced, it would end up being thrown up.

Cyrus’s brow furrowed even tighter, his warm palm covering her stomach, gently massaging it.

His palm was warm, much better than Ann Vaughn’s cool hand, and soon she felt warmth spreading in her stomach, relieving much of the pain.

Ann Vaughn listlessly glanced up to find Cyrus’s focused expression, his eyes gently downturned, lips pressed tightly, as if he was dealing with something more important than a billion-dollar deal, leaving her momentarily dazed.