Mr. Hawthorne, Your Wife Wants a Divorce Again-Chapter 1058: Haven’t I Beaten You Enough Yet?

Chapter 1058: Chapter 1058: Haven’t I Beaten You Enough Yet?

"Is that so." Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes lifted slightly, his thin lips curving into a faint smile, "Mark Joyce, to wear the crown, one must bear its weight."

Since things were already chaotic, why not let them become even more so?

Mark Joyce immediately understood, "Alright, I’ll take care of it right away."

"Hmm." Cyrus nodded indifferently, his peripheral vision catching Little Dumpling’s face almost buried in the plate in front of him. He reached out and gently lifted him by the collar.

The listless Little Dumpling looked like a sleepy kitten, especially with his little face all red and groggy, he was almost unbearably cute.

Just as easy to bully as his mommy.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow, then picked up the cartoon spoon from the plate and patiently fed him milk porridge bite by bite.

When Ann Vaughn came to the dining room, this was the scene she saw.

She nearly cried tears of joy, wishing she could go out and set off firecrackers to celebrate!

Could it be red rain today?

The father and son could finally have a moment of peace...

"Daddy, why are you stealing my milk porridge?"

"Daddy’s just checking if it’s too hot for you."

"You’re lying; Kenny’s plate is almost empty!" Little Dumpling, now fully awake, looked fiercely at Cyrus, "If you eat it all, what will Kenny eat?"

Calmly, Cyrus swallowed the milk porridge in his mouth, slightly furrowing his brow, "Not very tasty."

Little Dumpling: "..." If it’s not tasty, why did you have three bites!

Cyrus rubbed his little head and pushed the plate in front of him, "A man should learn to share. You can have mine."

"...I refuse!"

"Then you’ll eat air."

"Bad Daddy!!"

A world war was about to break out.

Ann Vaughn rubbed the corner of her forehead in frustration. How naive she had been, thinking this father and son could have a peaceful day together?

Resigned, she headed to the kitchen and made another serving of milk porridge for Kenny, finally soothing the Little Dumpling teetering on the edge of a tantrum.

The great President Hawthorne, glared at by Ann Vaughn, leaned his chin on his hand, his expression lazy, his deep voice drawn out: "Kids, can’t take a joke."

Ann Vaughn withdrew her gaze and complained, "How can you even snatch a kid’s food..."

Halfway through her sentence, Ann Vaughn suddenly sensed something was off.

Strangely, why did she feel like she had also been snatched from?

"Ah—"

A scream suddenly came from the second floor.

Ann Vaughn looked up in surprise, her delicate brows furrowing. Wasn’t that Ian Yardley’s scream just now?

Little Dumpling with cheeks puffed from porridge just smiled, saying nothing.

Meanwhile, in the room on the second floor.

The shattered porcelain pieces had been cleaned by the servants, but the porridge spilled at the time still left a dark stain on the carpet, evidence of what had happened earlier.

Cyrus Hawthorne and the family doctor were talking outside the room while Ann Vaughn entered inside, approaching Ian Yardley.

He sat dejectedly on the edge of the bed, his hair a tangled mess as if untouched for a long time, dark circles under his eyes, both eyes red, looking utterly desolate and pitiful.

Seeing Ann Vaughn enter, Ian’s breathing faltered.

"What do you want now?"

"What do you mean?"

Ian laughed sarcastically, "Pretending? Who else would put bugs in my room to scare me in the middle of the night if not you?"

Bugs?

Ann Vaughn raised a delicate brow, not answering his question, but instead asked, "So, in addition to bed-wetting, are you afraid of little bugs too?"

Ian’s eyes immediately turned red, glaring at her like an enraged wolf cub, "I already told you I didn’t wet the bed! And I’m not afraid of little bugs!"

"Then are you this way because a ghost scared you?"

"..."

Seeing him on the brink of shutting down, Ann stopped teasing him, studying his face for a moment, "Insomnia, nightmares, nervous debility, a bit of digestive disorder, nutritional imbalance... you’ve got quite a few issues."

These are problems from the womb, naturally weak constitution, hard to adjust later in life, stubborn as they come, not easily treatable.

Just like Kenny...

As this thought came up, Ann suddenly felt tight in her chest.

Why did she think of that?

Ann didn’t dwell on it long, then said to Ian, "I’ll prescribe some medicine to start warming and nourishing you; after a month, you’ll feel better."

To fully cure Ian’s congenital issues, changing his constitution was the only way.

Hearing her sudden softening in tone, Ian felt a strange mix of being flattered and shocked.

Probably because Ann’s usual harshness had unnerved him, her slight softening now seemed like a goodwill gesture.

Maybe he shouldn’t have treated her that way before?

"Are you... really that kind?" Ian coughed, his expression awkward.

"I’m doing this not because of you but because you’re important to Cyrus. Don’t take it personally." Ann gave him a light look, "I’ll ask the maids to bring some sleep-aiding aromatherapy for you later. Get some rest."

In fact, from the first moment Ann saw Ian, she’d noticed his health issues.

The reason she hadn’t mentioned it initially was that Ian’s hostility towards her had been very apparent from the start.

She didn’t have the habit of offering kindness only to be rejected.

And now...

Ann turned and left the room, stepping lightly towards Cyrus’s direction.

It wasn’t until her silhouette disappeared that Ian withdrew his increasingly complicated gaze, clenching his hands on the bed tightly.

This troublemaker... seemed different from what he had imagined.

...

Though Cyrus Hawthorne liked to tease Little Dumpling, it wasn’t that he didn’t care for him.

After breakfast, he asked Mark to call the school and excuse Little Dumpling for the day, allowing him to rest at home.

To get back to accompany Dumpling as soon as possible, Ann headed to the Aquamarine Group’s laboratory early. After discussions with the researchers, they overthrew previous theories and remade the test samples.

With her involvement, the research advanced by leaps and bounds, and previous challenges were resolved.

Once assured that the direction of the test samples was correct, Ann left the laboratory feeling confident.

By then, evening had fallen, with orange twilight tinting the entire sky.

Ann hadn’t even reached her car when someone suddenly blocked her path.

"Miss Vaughn, Miss Vaughn, please wait, I have something to say to you."

Hearing the voice, Ann frowned and looked at the person, "Why is it you?"

Chase Tate stood in front of Ann, rubbing his hands with a fawning smile, gone was the arrogance from the press conference; one might think he was possessed.

Ann immediately wanted to steer clear and leave, but after a few steps of trying, she had no success and stopped, looking at him impatiently, "Haven’t you had enough of my beating?"