Mr. Hawthorne, Your Wife Wants a Divorce Again-Chapter 1102: Poor Little Thing

"Sir, we didn’t know before that Summer was actually Ann Vaughn, and allowed Wade Lowell to inject her with the S-class drug. Now that Wade is unwilling to continue administering it, and only he has access to this new drug, should we enforce an order?"

As soon as he entered Nathan Hawthorne’s office, Stephen couldn’t wait to ask.

Ann Vaughn was the most crucial part of their entire plan, and if she were to die...

Nathan Hawthorne’s elegant face showed no expression as he lowered his eyes, seemingly pondering something. After a while, he said, "Then let’s advance the plan while she’s still alive."

What a pity.

He had intended to let her live a few more days.

"Yes, I’ll go arrange it now. I’ll ensure you receive a satisfactory answer in the shortest time," Stephen replied solemnly, silently expressing his emotions.

This day has finally come.

At the same time.

After the side effects flared up without timely drug injection, Ann Vaughn’s body had weakened to the point where even when No. 89 deliberately slapped her, she lacked the strength to retaliate.

The sensation was different from feeling drained.

It was as if cotton was stuffed into her bloodstream, making her heavy when wet, clogged throughout her body, especially on her heart, making even breathing difficult.

Her body was completely beyond her control, this helplessness more torturous than death.

Stephen and Kenway, accustomed to such scenes, felt no sympathy for Ann Vaughn’s suffering, only worrying whether she could hold on much longer.

Ann Vaughn awoke several times in a daze, overhearing them pointing and commenting on her, mentioning "more suitable substitutes."

But she would soon fall asleep again.

When she awoke once more, she saw Nathan Hawthorne standing by the laboratory bench, looking at her with a complex expression.

... No, something was wrong.

His gaze seemed to pass through her, looking at someone else.

"Awake," Nathan’s contemplative eyes withdrew, looking at a pale Ann Vaughn with a look of pity.

Ann responded with a hum, asking, "Uncle Hawthorne, am I going to die?"

"Everyone dies eventually; there’s nothing to fear."

"Is that so?" Ann Vaughn smiled wryly, "Since I’m about to die, Uncle, can you fulfill a final wish of mine?"

"Go ahead."

"Don’t let Cyrus Hawthorne know I’ve awakened; let him believe I emigrated, went into hiding, anything but the truth."

Nathan didn’t agree immediately, instead asking, "Are you so sure he won’t find out the truth?"

Perhaps his good son was already in this base, ready to deliver a fatal blow at any moment.

With that thought, Nathan’s gaze deepened, and without waiting for Ann to speak, said, "I can promise you that, but whether it can be hidden is up to fate."

"They say no one understands a son better than his father; I’m sure Uncle will figure something out."

Ann had to admit, each conversation with her left a deeper impression on Nathan Hawthorne.

Hence the sense of regret.

"The little girl sure knows how to butter me up," Nathan smiled faintly, adjusting the blanket over Ann Vaughn, gently patting her head, "Since I quite like you, I’ll say a bit more."

"What do you want to say, Uncle?"

"You’ve probably heard, Hawthorne ancestors were once prime ministers; even in modern times, we had generals with illustrious achievements," Nathan said gently, "They say the Hawthorne Family is blessed, and every Hawthorne descendant is destined to excel, with a bright future."

Upon hearing this, four words inexplicably popped into Ann Vaughn’s mind.

— Extremes meet reversals.

Nathan’s next words confirmed Ann’s presumption.

"Outsiders see only the Hawthorne Family’s glamour, unaware that its descendants are emotionless beings, heartless and indifferent, forsaking love and hatred, with only career and ambition in their minds."

"The blood flowing through Hawthornes has always been cold without exception. Love for them is based on usefulness and some selfish desires, unrelated to real affection."

"Little girl, there are three things in this world you shouldn’t do: One is to take your own life, two is to take others’, and three... is to fall in love with a Hawthorne."

Nathan’s tone remained unruffled, as if "Hawthorne Family" did not include him.

Yet his words strangely gave Ann Vaughn a sense of déjà vu.

As if someone had told her the same before.

— Hawthornes are inherently cold-blooded; no need for love, nor to be beloved, as those elusive things cannot sustain the family’s undefeated standing.

— They’re always saying the Hawthorne Family needs a perfect heir, not a common person with emotions and desires.

— ...

There seemed to be more after those phrases, but Ann couldn’t recall, her head throbbed as if about to explode.

"When you’re reincarnated, remember to find a good family, stay far from the Hawthornes, never get involved again," Nathan spoke coolly yet sympathetically, observing Ann’s pain-stricken expression.

"Cyrus Hawthorne is different," Ann’s teeth chattered in pain, forcing out a defense.

Nathan chuckled, "His only difference is that he hides it well, fooling not just you, but himself too."

Ann bit her lip hard, "It’s not like that..."

"Don’t you feel, Wade Lowell and Cyrus Hawthorne are quite similar," Nathan benevolently shattered Ann’s final defense, silently laughing at her dilated pupils.

Such a poor little soul.

Ann still tried to argue, but suddenly, darkness overtook her, and she fainted once more.

...

When the darkness receded.

Ann Vaughn awoke to the scent of fresh flowers, to a changed scenery both strange and familiar.

But she had no time to take it in as she was startled by the IV line connected to her wrist.

The other end of the line passed through curtains beside her, reaching the hand of another person lying there.

If Ann had strength to draw back the curtain, she’d be shocked by who it was.

Lost in thought, she heard Nathan’s gentle voice from beyond the curtain.

"So, are you nervous?"

"Don’t be afraid. I’ll stay here with you till the end. Your body will return to normal afterward."

"In a moment, I’ll have Stephen hypnotize you. Just sleep well, and when you wake, it’ll all be fine, trust me."

His voice was so tender, without a trace of deceit, nearly making Ann doubt if the person speaking behind the curtain was indeed Nathan Hawthorne.