"No drinks needed..." Trying hard to dismiss the discomfort brought by Miyi Yates’s earlier words, Ann Vaughn thought for a moment, "Could you buy me some ice cream instead?"
"Okay." Bella Hawthorne, completely unaware that she was caught on a pirate ship, went out to buy ice cream after sending Ann Vaughn back to her ward.
When she returned, Bella had brought back an entire bag of ice cream.
Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but feel relieved that Kenny hadn’t come by today, nor was Cyrus Hawthorne around; otherwise, this whole bag might have ended up in the trash.
It’s not that she didn’t know she shouldn’t eat too many cold treats, but in times of emotional distress, she was used to easing her mind with ice cream.
"Sister-in-law, I want to enter the entertainment industry."
Just as Ann Vaughn was enjoying her ice cream, she suddenly heard Bella Hawthorne, who had been silent for a long time, say this, almost causing her to choke.
"Cough, cough," Ann Vaughn rubbed her brain, which felt frozen, and asked in surprise, "Why do you suddenly have this idea?"
Bella Hawthorne gave a helpless smile, "It’s not sudden, I’ve been considering it since Lyncroft. I want to... find the real culprit behind what’s happened to me."
Ann Vaughn was even more surprised, "Wasn’t it Riley Sheridan who harmed you?"
"I initially thought it was her too," Bella Hawthorne’s expression turned serious, her hand clenched into a fist, "But after having a friend investigate, I found out that there’s someone behind Riley Sheridan, she’s just a pawn used against me."
"I haven’t found out yet; all I know is that they’re in the entertainment industry, and that person seems to have considerable influence, making it difficult to investigate."
Upon hearing this, Ann Vaughn put down her spoon and frowned, "This matter is too dangerous, and you shouldn’t be the one to handle it."
Anyone capable of using a pawn to harm Bella Hawthorne must have considerable cunning and methods.
Facing them head-on, Bella might not necessarily come out on top.
"I want to ask for your help, sister-in-law, to persuade my brother not to interfere in this matter." Bella Hawthorne said with unusual determination, "I want to take revenge myself."
Borrowing someone else’s hand, even if revenge was exacted, she would never be able to smooth over the turmoil in her heart.
She was a daughter of the Hawthorne Family; she had her own pride.
She was no longer the little girl who would run to her brother for help whenever something happened.
Ann Vaughn suddenly lost the desire to continue eating ice cream and sighed.
"As long as you won’t regret it, I’ll try to help persuade your brother." Although he’s unlikely to even pay her any attention now.
"Thank you, sister-in-law." Bella Hawthorne said softly, her eyes warm.
Atop the Hawthorne Group.
The oppressive atmosphere, like a dark cloud looming overhead, permeated every corner, making those on the top floor feel as though they were in Kryos, despite the heating.
Outside the door of the CEO’s office, where the gloom hung thick, several department executives stood shivering with files, offering each other the first move.
"Minister Gower, you’ve been with the company for a long time, please, you go first?"
"In Norvale, the new generation pushes out the old; how can I compete with you young folks? You go first."
"No, no, no, you’re too modest. What am I compared to you? Please, you go first!"
"No, no, no, rather you than me, please you go first!"
The executives behind: "..." They all felt it was unnecessary to hurt each other.
The Public Relations Minister’s teeth chattered, "When will the President’s mood lift? The project he asked me to revise is on its seventh version, if it doesn’t pass soon, I’ll be out of a job."
"Could it be because the Planning Minister opposed the Aromatherapy Dew project again during the last meeting and angered the President?"
With this remark, all eyes turned to the Planning Minister.
The Planning Minister immediately panicked, so frightened his mouth stammered, "Hey! What nonsense are you talking about, how could the President be so petty?"
Other executives scoffed at him.
"The cosmetics company under our Group has its own research team. Which of their products isn’t a masterpiece, meticulously filtered and eliminated?"
"Besides, even if it was something developed by the President’s wife, as a long-time employee, don’t I have the right to offer an opinion? Plus, the President didn’t launch Aromatherapy Dew, showing that my words have some merit, doesn’t it?"
The Planning Minister defended himself, his face flushed, lest he truly be blamed for President Hawthorne’s recent bad mood.
Otherwise, even jumping into a fountain wouldn’t clear his name.
"Aromatherapy Dew indeed hasn’t launched domestically because President Hawthorne has long considered opening its market abroad first, achieving first-day sales of over ten billion. Truth be told, that was several months ago." ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ ɴovᴇl_Firᴇ.ɴet
Mark Joyce’s voice suddenly sounded from behind them.
"How come we didn’t know about such a big event?" The Planning Minister’s face turned even redder, assuming Mark Joyce was joking.
A product that broke ten billion in sales on its first day — such a huge event — had no news within the Group?
Mark Joyce smiled slightly, not saying more, "President Hawthorne just finished a video meeting and has time, so please go in, everyone."
If not for fearing they would speak recklessly, belittling Miss Vaughn too much, and having President Hawthorne find out, resulting in another storm, Mark Joyce wouldn’t have explained.
The executives’ faces immediately turned pale.
They all say death is inevitable.
Right now, they just wanted to die a little.
The scattered stars dotted the sky, the soft glow gentle.
After the international conference ended, the clock’s hands had already reached midnight and kept moving forward.
A man in an all-black, bespoke suit sat at his desk, eyes focused as he reviewed the documents before him.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, most of the bustling city was in view, with traffic flowing like a river, and lights in every household.
The office was extremely quiet, with only the sound of keyboard tapping audible.
So solitary, it seemed as if only this lone figure remained between heaven and earth.
Mark Joyce knocked and entered, placing a document on the desk before softly reminding, "President Hawthorne, there’s a message from the hospital; Miss Vaughn has fallen asleep."
The man finally raised his unwavering eyes slowly, and the pen that hadn’t stopped once finally freed itself from his hand, being placed aside.
"Prepare the car, let’s go to the hospital."
First Hospital, inside the ward.
There were too many vexing matters during the day, and Ann Vaughn had washed up and gone to bed early, with a soft Little Dumpling curled up beside her.
Fortunately, the hospital bed was comfortable and spacious, so even with the extra plump Little Dumpling, it wasn’t cramped.
The mother and son slept soundly, even unaware when the door to the ward opened silently.
Gazing at the mother and son with their identical "grand and bold" sleeping postures, the slender figure standing by the bedside sighed softly, leaned down, and tucked the kicked-off quilt back over them.
A kid kicking the quilt wasn’t surprising; children are often afraid of the heat.
Yet the usually pampered little one, who slept like a cat, had also picked up such a "bad habit."
"No more..." Sleeping Ann Vaughn suddenly mumbled, turned over, and used Cyrus Hawthorne’s arm as a pillow, her little mouth slightly open, "Brain freeze hurts..."