The next morning, the sound of rain pattered softly, blurring the scenery outside the window.
Ann Vaughn rubbed her groggy head, wrapped in a blanket as she got up, only to see a tall, slender figure standing by the bedside. As she looked up, she found his dark eyes fixed on her, his handsome face inscrutable.
Like a beast lurking in the dark night, carrying an aura of coldness.
Ann Vaughn was somewhat startled, her slender fingers clutching the edge of the blanket, thinking of last night’s events, feeling a bit uneasy.
Even though Cynthia wasn’t pushed by her, even if she explained, he might not believe her.
Is his appearance here now to settle accounts with her?
"You have five minutes to get downstairs, I’ll take you to the hospital to check your wound." Cyrus Hawthorne’s throat moved twice, saying this coldly, then turned straight around and left the room.
Contrary to what Ann Vaughn thought.
"No need..." Ann Vaughn’s refusal wasn’t even fully out of her mouth before the door was already closed.
She paused, a slight sweetness blossoming in her heart, involuntarily curving her eyes into a smile.
He still cares for her, but just isn’t familiar with her and misunderstands her too deeply, so he has never expressed it.
If he knew she was the little girl who made an agreement with him when they were young, would things be different?
Ann Vaughn quickly washed up, but when she changed her sanitary pad, she noticed less blood than usual. She didn’t think much of it and hurriedly grabbed her bag and went downstairs.
At the hospital, Cyrus Hawthorne had already arranged for a doctor, and Ann Vaughn went directly in for a full disinfection and bandaging, which was soon finished.
Ann Vaughn originally wanted to say a few pleasant words to thank Cyrus Hawthorne, as despite his busy schedule, he personally brought her to the hospital, showing he still cared about her.
"If there’s nothing else, I’ll let my assistant take you back. I have other matters." Just as she was about to speak, Cyrus Hawthorne interrupted her indifferently.
"Alright." Ann Vaughn raised a bright and cheerful smile, and the suffocating feeling from the entire night gradually dissipated from her chest.
She waved at Cyrus Hawthorne and turned the corner towards the elevator.
Just after Ann Vaughn left, two masked doctors came out from the door behind Cyrus Hawthorne, holding a test report. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ NovᴇlFirᴇ.ɴet
"President Hawthorne, Miss Selene Vaughn has refused treatment after learning about her deteriorating condition. All indicators for Miss Ann Vaughn are suitable for Miss Cynthia’s heart transplant surgery. As long as she agrees, the operation can be arranged immediately..."
Just then, before getting into the elevator, Ann Vaughn, who had realized she forgot her bag, was muttering to herself about her carelessness and turned back to retrieve it.
The doctor’s words unexpectedly reached her ears, freezing the lingering smile on her pretty face, her bright eyes widening in disbelief.
Cynthia Vaughn’s heart condition has deteriorated to the point where she needs a transplant, and her heart... is compatible with Cynthia’s?
So Cyrus Hawthorne brought her to the hospital today not out of concern for her, but plotting to have her give Cynthia her heart?
"Make sure to soothe Cynthia’s emotions and be ready to perform the surgery at any time; I’ll handle the issue of a heart source." Facing away from her, Cyrus Hawthorne’s voice was indifferent, devoid of any emotion.
As if he were casually deciding what to eat tomorrow.
Hearing this, Ann Vaughn almost burst into laughter, her watery eyes reddening as if on the verge of collapse, a breath clogged in her chest causing suffocating pain, and suddenly a strong urge to vomit.