Cold without a trace of incongruity, just like his heart.
"It’s settled." Warren Vance stood up, gazing deeply at Ann Vaughn with misty dark red eyes.
That gaze seemed to carry many complex emotions Ann Vaughn couldn’t understand, but upon closer inspection, she saw nothing.
"Quinn Bishop, escort the Princess out."
Soon, Quinn Bishop escorted Ann Vaughn and Kressiel to the front door, then returned.
He saw Warren standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window where the moonlight didn’t shine through, his gaze following the slender figure moving downstairs, his expression indifferent on that enchanting face.
"Master, if you can’t bear to part with the Princess, why did you..." Seeing this, Quinn Bishop couldn’t help but quietly ask, "The Princess lost the bet, she should fulfill the promise."
Warren gazed at the downstairs, the corners of his lips faintly curving upwards.
Behind him, the ancient clock ticked softly, the minute hand stopping precisely at the end of the hour they had agreed upon.
When the black Maybach barely came to a stop at the door, Ann Vaughn suddenly found herself face to face with the person she most wanted to see.
Dressed in black, his figure was tall and slender, proud and stern, his exceedingly handsome face taut, relaxing slightly only upon seeing her.
Although Ann Vaughn’s sleeve was already down, Cyrus Hawthorne still noticed the anomaly in her arm from her subtle movements and immediately stepped forward to grip her wrist.
"Is your hand injured?" His voice was low and deep, like cello strings, enchanting.
Having remained silent inside despite the pain, unwilling to easily expose her weakness, Ann Vaughn’s nose suddenly reddened, feeling aggrieved as she dashed into the man’s embrace.
Beside them, Kressiel: "..." Sister, you didn’t act inside.
Cyrus Hawthorne furrowed his elegant brows, refraining from touching her injured area, and instructed Mark Joyce in the driver’s seat, "Have the family doctor come to number eight as soon as possible."
"Yes, President Hawthorne." Mark Joyce immediately took out his phone and dialed the family doctor’s number.
With her cheek resting on Cyrus Hawthorne’s chest, rising and falling with his heartbeat, Ann Vaughn hugged his waist tightly with her uninjured hand.
If Warren Vance hadn’t agreed to let her go, this very moment would have been the last minute of their bet.
He found her, just as expected.
However, just as joy began to rise in Ann Vaughn’s heart, upon seeing the woman stepping out of the car in the next moment, her smile gradually faded from her lips.
"Miss Vaughn, are you alright? As soon as we got the news, the Family Head and I rushed over without delay. Luckily, you’re safe." Miyi Yates came over with a concerned expression, saying.
Upon hearing this, Ann Vaughn immediately furrowed her brows, straightening from Cyrus Hawthorne’s embrace.
Was she... hinting at something?
"Your arm is so swollen, yet you say you’re okay. Miss, are you blind or numb?" Kressiel couldn’t stand women being pretentious and immediately retorted, "You’re putting on quite the act."
In terms of women’s scheming tactics, Kressiel had witnessed plenty from her father’s women. With Miyi Yates’ level, she couldn’t fool her eyes. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ɴo(v)elFɪre.ɴet
Miyi Yates’ smile stiffened, "Miss Vaughn, your friend is straightforward, speaking her mind quickly."
Kressiel quickly rolled her eyes, implying she was unreasonable, speaking without thinking, and taking a dig at Ann Vaughn.
"Oh, you’re too kind. How could I measure up to even a tenth of your skill?"
Miyi Yates frowned, feeling insulted by a person not even daring to show their face.
"Kressiel, thank you for your help today. I’ll treat you to a meal next time." Before getting into the car, Ann Vaughn waved to Kressiel, her eyes showing genuine smile.
"Sure, I’ll remember that." Kressiel smiled back.
Pulling her gaze away without sparing a glance at Cyrus Hawthorne, Ann Vaughn bent down and entered the back seat.
Noticing her sudden change in mood, Cyrus Hawthorne subtly furrowed his brow, recalling her earlier words. He nodded slightly to Kressiel and then returned to the car.
Soon, the black Maybach disappeared into the distance.
Throughout the journey, Ann Vaughn felt rather unhappy, cradling her injured arm against the window while occasionally glimpsing Miyi Yates in the front passenger seat.
Simply shutting her eyes for peace, she pretended to sleep.
Though she tried hard to convince herself there was nothing to worry about, thoughts like "They’ve been together until just now" kept surfacing in her mind.
"Let me see your injury." The low voice came from beside her.
Ann Vaughn pretended not to hear, remaining still with her eyes shut.
Cyrus Hawthorne knew she was feigning sleep but didn’t expose her, even though she was rejecting his closeness with silence and refusal.
However, what he wondered was.
Was this rejection more due to him, or the man in the black Gothic-style villa?
The nerve-racking experience had long exhausted Ann Vaughn, constantly on guard at Warren Vance’s place unable to rest at ease.
Upon returning to safety, weariness and sleepiness quickly overwhelmed her, and she soon fell into a deep slumber.
While awake, she was furious, wishing to be as far from Cyrus Hawthorne as possible, but asleep, feeling his warmth beside her, she nestled her head against his shoulder.
Slept soundly and sweetly.
The arrival of dawn startled away the last bat resting by the window, disappearing in the sunlight without a trace.
Blood-red morning light spilled into the room through the long-framed windows.
A slender straight figure gradually formed by the window, revealing his true appearance.
"Ah!" Ann Vaughn suddenly awoke from a nightmare, her pale lips breathlessly parting, a delicate finger wiping her forehead, touching the moisture.
Sitting up, she glanced at her silk sleepwear, noticing the bandaged arm with a protective layer, her eyes momentarily vacant.
Where’s Cyrus Hawthorne?
She glanced around the room but saw he wasn’t there.
Feeling uncomfortable in her damp nightwear, Ann Vaughn got out of bed, went to the bathroom for a quick wipe, changed into fresh sleepwear, and finally felt clean and comfortable.
She left the master bedroom and headed to the study, but still didn’t find Cyrus Hawthorne.
Barefoot, Ann Vaughn descended the stairs, about to round the corner when she heard voices from downstairs.
Approaching further, she saw the tall, elegant figure facing away at the staircase entrance, with none other than Miyi Yates standing before him.