It felt like an eternity had passed.
Cold liquid flowed into her body through her veins, causing a prickling sensation that jolted Ann Vaughn awake from her coma.
Darkness filled her vision, and there was not a sound to be heard.
Ann Vaughn gently turned her dizzy and swollen head, instinctively wanting to reach out to remove the black cloth covering her eyes, only to find her current situation somewhat dire.
Her hands were tightly bound behind her with rope, and the more she struggled, the tighter the knot became, causing her wrists to ache.
This special knot wasn’t easily undone, the more she struggled, the more she suffered; she had no choice but to stop struggling.
At that moment, Ann Vaughn’s body stiffened, her head turned towards the front corner. Although blinded by the black cloth, she was certain there was someone standing there.
"...Who are you?" Ann Vaughn’s throat tightened, forcing herself to remain calm and composed, "What’s your purpose in kidnapping me? Money, or a prescription?"
If the kidnappers simply wanted a prescription, there might be room for negotiation, but the fear was... as soon as they got what they wanted, they would immediately destroy the evidence.
Without receiving an answer for a long time, Ann Vaughn strained her ears to listen, but could only hear the shallow breathing of the person proving he/she was still there.
Ann Vaughn’s earlier words had a probing intent, but this person didn’t take the bait, not uttering a word, making him/her even more unpredictable in his/her intentions and objectives.
Just as Ann Vaughn was getting increasingly bewildered, footsteps suddenly sounded by her ear, mixed in with a peculiar faint noise.
Before Ann Vaughn could decipher what it was, the sound of a door closing interrupted her thoughts.
Ann Vaughn tightly pursed her red lips, feeling a strange sense rise within her, wondering what the kidnapper was up to.
Neither wanting money nor a prescription, just binding her here, was that all?
She waited quietly for nearly ten minutes without hearing any sound.
Ann Vaughn immediately raised her legs, nimbly threading them through her bound hands, instantly reversing their position to the front.
She swiftly tore off the black cloth over her eyes, the light streaming through the skylight stabbing her eyes painfully, it took a moment for her to adjust before she lowered her gaze to untie the rope around her wrists with her mouth.
After about ten minutes of this, her cheeks ached with numbness from the effort, but finally her hands were free.
"Torment." Ann Vaughn muttered, rubbing her sore cheeks, before she raised her eyes to survey her surroundings.
The room was spacious except for a table with shopping bags and some odd paint marks on the floor, there was nothing else to be seen.
Ann Vaughn opened the shopping bags to find them filled with uniform bread, milk, and even White Rabbit candies of various flavors.
So complete, it almost felt like the kidnappers were here for a picnic outing...
After being speechless for a while, Ann Vaughn didn’t touch the food in the bag, but pulled out the necklace from under her sweater, gently touching the star in the middle with her slender finger.
If there was only one kidnapper, with the Gold Needle hidden in her sleeves and the small mechanism in the necklace, she should be able to handle it.
But if it’s a group of people...
She couldn’t sit idly by!
Ann Vaughn quickly walked to the closed door, pulling out over a dozen Golden Needles from her cuffs, twisting them together forcefully before thrusting them into the lock.
Strangely, though several times she managed to unlock it, no matter how hard she turned the handle, the door just wouldn’t open...
"Sss!" The sudden coldness caused Ann Vaughn, jiggling at the door, to shudder, her brows furrowing slightly, "Strange, why did the temperature suddenly drop inside here..."
After several more attempts, the door remained unmoved.
Knowing that persisting this way would only waste energy, Ann Vaughn had no choice but to grip the Golden Needle and sit back in her original position, her bright eyes firmly fixed on the door’s movements, not daring to relax for even a second.
Her delayed return to Villa No. 8 meant Cyrus Hawthorne should have already realized something had happened to her.
But she didn’t know who would reach her first, him or the kidnappers...
Thankfully, Ann Vaughn didn’t wait long.
Just as her consciousness was becoming increasingly fuzzy, the closed door burst open with a powerful kick.
A tall figure instantly appeared before Ann Vaughn, gently lifting her horizontally in his arms.
"I was late." The man’s voice was so low it was almost hoarse, his chin lightly resting on her hairline as if even such a small gesture could hurt her.
"Quinn." Ann Vaughn, in a daze, instinctively leaned into his embrace for warmth, to ease the bone-piercing cold all over her body, "You’re so cold... is it snowing outside..."
At those words, the man’s expression instantly turned cold and somber.
Ann Vaughn’s cheeks were see flushed as if on fire, not to mention her body temperature was extraordinarily high, even worse than when having a fever.
And yet, she felt cold...
"Mark Joyce, get Lucas Kane to Villa No. 8 within five minutes." Cyrus Hawthorne’s ice-cold orders were given before he turned and walked away with his beloved Ann Vaughn in his arms.
Mark Joyce hurriedly pulled out his phone to notify Lucas Kane, following quickly behind.
Inside another dark and dimly lit room, only a faint glow from the screen illuminated a small area.
Hands were typing on a keyboard.
After the line was sent, it took a while before a line floated up at the bottom of the screen.
Inside the master bedroom of Villa No. 8.
Several maids bustled in and out, at times bringing in hot water and towels, then ice cubes and cold towels, helping Ann Vaughn wipe the hot sweat or cold sweat off her body.
Her body temperature was chaotic, alternating between hot and cold, the extreme of ice and fire, which was highly damaging to her body.
"Family Head, Young Madam is not sick, but infected with a virus." Having examined Ann Vaughn, Lucas Kane’s face went somber, reporting to Cyrus Hawthorne who was standing by her side, "If Young Madam’s temperature continues to fluctuate this way, she will be in mortal danger within three days."
Everyone’s expressions changed dramatically.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s dark eyes narrowed sharply, his hands clenched into fists at his sides with such force that his knuckles turned pale. The source of this content ɪs NoveIꜰire.net
The chilling aura around him deepened in intensity like a near tangible presence.
Fifteen minutes later.
Because Ann Vaughn’s condition wasn’t suitable for moving her, all the researchers at QY Research Institute who had been exposed to virus research were brought to Villa No. 8, to conduct research in the temporary lab and quarantine room on the top floor.