The girl has always been strong-willed since she was a child, always swallowing her grievances, neither speaking nor causing trouble, accommodating everyone else but wronging herself.
If nothing had happened, she wouldn’t have left Kenny unattended when his condition was critical and just walked away.
The living room was filled with the strong smell of alcohol, and a few empty bottles piled on the coffee-colored carpet clinked when they moved.
Ann Vaughn sat in the middle of the bottles, holding a bottle of alcohol, gulping it down without tasting it, and coughing uncontrollably.
"Stop, stop drinking, you’ve already drunk all the alcohol in my house." Susie Sommers hiccuped and reached out to grab the bottle from Ann Vaughn’s hand, "Don’t worry, if Cyrus Hawthorne dares to wrong you, tomorrow... hic, tomorrow we’ll storm the Hawthorne Group with a team of lawyers!"
Ann Vaughn’s tolerance for alcohol varied, but more often than not, she would pass out after just one drink.
But no matter how much she drank this time, she didn’t feel any more intoxicated.
She propped her flushed cheeks with one hand, blinked her misty eyes, and after a while finally reacted: "Why bring a team of lawyers?"
"Sue him for adultery during marriage!" Her good friend came to her asking for drinks, and watching her drink like she was trying to drown her sorrows, Susie jumped to conclusions.
Ann Vaughn had originally forgotten about the little storm from a few days ago.
Those women later realized she was also in the group chat and had seen their entire conversation, soon deleting their posts, and she didn’t dwell on it any longer.
Now, upon hearing Susie’s words, a thought suddenly formed in Ann Vaughn’s mind, one about making Cyrus Hawthorne agree to divorce her.
— No, no, that won’t work.
Ann Vaughn pressed her lips together, immediately dismissing the absurd idea.
She’s the one who wants a divorce, it has nothing to do with Cyrus. She should be the one feeling guilty and remorseful.
"Actually, I made a mistake, it has nothing to do with him." Ann Vaughn leaned back against the side of the sofa, speaking in self-mockery.
Susie, with a bottle in her arms, let the words slip from one ear to the other, even humming, lowering her voice, "It’s not you that’s wrong, it’s the whole world~~"
As she spoke, she began to sing.
Ann Vaughn twitched her lips slightly and reached out to touch Susie’s flushed cheek, "Are you drunk?"
"I’m not drunk, this little drink can’t get me drunk," Susie huffed, tilting her head back to take another swig, suddenly had a bright idea flash in her mind, "Wait, how did you say you got out of the house earlier?"
"...Crawled through the dog hole."
"Pfft—" Susie spat out a mouthful of alcohol.
Fortunately, Ann Vaughn dodged in time; otherwise, she would have been in trouble.
Ann Vaughn immediately glared at Susie, "Wait till I stuff all these bottles into your mouth!"
Susie laughed uncontrollably, "I just remembered when you secretly snuck to sleep with Cyrus Hawthorne, only to be discovered and had to escape through the dog hole, hahahaha, history repeats itself."
Ann Vaughn immediately retorted, "That time I climbed over the fence to escape."
"...How long ago was that, how do you remember so clearly?" Susie asked in surprise.
"..." Fresh chapters posted on novel·fire.net
Ann Vaughn stopped talking, hugging her knees, burying her head in her arms, her eyes instantly reddened.
She wanted to see him.
But she couldn’t find him.
Thinking of Laura Quinn, Ann Vaughn let out a low sigh. Even if she got her wish to see him, what could she change?
"Susie, is there any more alcohol?" After a long time, Ann Vaughn quietly asked the already tipsy Susie beside her.
Susie wanted to say there wasn’t, but her mouth unconsciously said, "Yes... there is! I snagged a cabinet full of fine wines from Uncle’s stash!"
With strong wines as company, the long night seemed even harder to endure.
As daylight broke, and the first ray of dawn rose slowly from the horizon.
Ann Vaughn cleaned up the mess she and Susie had made the night before, poured the freshly brewed hangover soup into a thermos, stuck a note on it, and placed it next to the still sleeping Susie.
Pushing the suitcase out of the entrance, Ann Vaughn said softly, "Goodbye, Susie."
The door closed gently.
QY Research Institute.
The experimental ward felt like a cold wind blowing through, sweeping everywhere with biting cold, the people within even lowered their breathing, fearing to attract attention.
The man in the eye of the storm, having just awoken, had sharper features on his slightly lean face, colder and more menacing than ever, exuding a strong sense of intimidation.
He held a few thin sheets of paper in his hand, his long, slender fingers so tightly clenched they appeared blue-white, as if he wasn’t holding paper, but someone’s neck—
Everyone present held their breath.
Mark Joyce, standing by the bedside, frequently cast doubtful glances at the expert who declared that it would take Cyrus Hawthorne a week to wake up.
The expert pulled a bitter face, returning the look as if to say: Normally, waking up in three to seven days would be expected, but how could I have predicted the President Hawthorne would manage it in just one day?!
This was entirely beyond the realm of normal people.
Mark Joyce also felt bitter; if he had known earlier that the envelope Miss Vaughn handed him contained divorce papers, he would have burned them before handing them over to the President—there was no time! How could he have possibly given them to him otherwise?
The bold words on the agreement nearly sent him away on the spot!
"President Hawthorne, perhaps there’s some misunderstanding here." Seeing the man’s face grow colder and more somber, Mark Joyce spoke with difficulty, trying to persuade him: "Young Master suddenly fell critically ill, Miss Vaughn searched for you the entire day, but you were undergoing treatment at the time, and without your permission, I couldn’t reveal the truth to her."
The man’s narrow eyes remained cold, crumpling the letter wedged within the divorce agreement into a ball and throwing it precisely into the trash can.
"Where is Shadow Guard Team 1?" he asked in a deep voice.
Mark Joyce was somewhat puzzled; wasn’t the young master his top priority?
"On the night of your coma, Aidan Keating fled the suburban hospital and has been missing since, and Team 1 also lost their trail."
This news lightened Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression slightly, "Notify the hospital, prepare for surgery."
Mark Joyce was even more puzzled, "But President, Aidan Keating..."
Cyrus Hawthorne’s thin lips curled coldly, "Do you think he escaped the hospital on luck and skill?"
Little did they know that his every move was still under his control.
At this moment, news came from First Hospital that everything was ready, and surgery would start at eleven in the morning.
Mark Joyce was utterly speechless, his apprehension and admiration for Cyrus Hawthorne reaching a new high, with a faint sense of unattainable awe.
Such a man who could think many steps ahead, using wisdom that bordered on the uncanny... Miss Vaughn was willing to let go.
"President Hawthorne, shall we conduct an examination first?" The expert on the side finally dared to speak as the storm subsided.
"No need," Cyrus Hawthorne refused coldly, "Mark Joyce, prepare the car for the hospital."
Just as Mark Joyce was about to respond, he received a new message on his phone, his face changing drastically.
"President Hawthorne, Miss Vaughn is now at Imperial Capital Airport, catching an 8 o’clock flight to leave the Imperial Capital!"