CHAPTER 102: CHAPTER 102: UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY

But why, she hadn’t even had a chance to be happy that he came to pick her up at the station, like a roller coaster suddenly falling, crashing to pieces at the bottom of the cliff.

So this was his real purpose.

First the show, endorsements, then her little clinic, her studies, he was like a chess player controlling the board.

With just a light push, he could destroy all her efforts in an instant.

Ann Vaughn imagined how Cyrus Hawthorne, for the sake of Cynthia Vaughn’s illness, would go so far as to ruin everything she worked for; next, would it be her turn, along with her child?

"Ha." A bitter and extreme laugh spilled from Ann Vaughn’s lips, her bright eyes dark as starlight, devoid of any gleam.

She forcefully closed her eyes, feeling as if her heart had sunk into a deep sea where even sunlight couldn’t reach, her whole body cold and shivering.

-

The next day, Auntie Golding was brought to the private manor, still responsible for Ann Vaughn’s daily needs, and restorative herbal meals were indispensable.

Unlike before, Auntie Golding’s attitude took a sharp turn; she dared not show any negligence to Ann Vaughn, and usually avoided speaking unless necessary, fearing Ann might ask something.

Apart from Auntie Golding, there was no third person to be seen in the private manor.

Initially, Ann Vaughn harbored a slim hope of secretly escaping, but she hadn’t even approached the main gate when a team of well-trained guards stopped her, forcing her back.

Only then did she understand it was impossible to escape, in this place where there wasn’t even a signal.

Cyrus Hawthorne really went to great lengths to confine her here.

No matter how much she racked her brain, she couldn’t comprehend what horrific thing she did to make him guard against her escaping like this.

Ann Vaughn imagined that as long as Jennifer Vaughn hadn’t had the heart replacement surgery, she would never regain her freedom.

Truly the height of irony.

"Miss Vaughn, it’s time for your medicinal meal." Auntie Golding respectfully placed the medicinal meal in front of Ann Vaughn and then stood to the side.

Ann Vaughn stared at the bowl of herbal medicine for a long time, then silently picked it up and drank it, her mouth filled with a strong, strange flavor.

After drinking the medicinal meal, Ann Vaughn walked out of the villa.

Although Cyrus Hawthorne forbade her from leaving the manor, inside it, she could move around freely.

The manor was large, as vast green lawns stretched as far as the eye could see, lined by two rows of French sycamores beside the shady paths, along with a private cinema and golf course, all arranged beautifully.

Ann Vaughn never gave up looking for an opportunity to escape, even though she hadn’t found any loophole in all these days.

After wandering around nearby and finding nothing, she decided to head back.

Who knew, as she was about to leave, she found a small patch of extraordinary little plants under the hedge by the wall.

Ann Vaughn thought she was seeing things, but when she squatted down to carefully brush aside the grass and examine, she confirmed these little plants were indeed Dragon Flame Grass.

Dragon Flame Grass had very harsh growing conditions; it required extremely high soil standards to grow even a few, thus it was nearly extinct.

Thus, you wouldn’t find it in modern texts, only ancient books had records of it.

Ann Vaughn glanced at the area; surprisingly, there was quite a bit of Dragon Flame Grass.

Could it be that this soil was very suitable for Dragon Flame Grass?

It was said that where the Dragon Flame Grass grew, the Jugo fruit could also be found.

Exploring further, Ann Vaughn indeed found a small, well-hidden Jugo tree and a few other herbs nearby.

For a moment, Ann Vaughn forgot about escaping and quickly pulled out a few Dragon Flame Grass and Jugo fruit, then hurried back to the villa.

Without tools at hand, Ann Vaughn had to fiddle around in the kitchen for a while, finding a few substitutes before heading upstairs.

Though the tools weren’t ideal, as the saying goes, "A calligrapher doesn’t need the best brush to write exquisite calligraphy," just as Ann Vaughn could extract the medicine without specific tools.

She had these hands that could turn decay into magic.

It wasn’t until near midnight that Ann Vaughn quickly washed up and went to bed, falling into a deep sleep.

About half an hour later, there was movement outside the door.

"What did she do today?" A low, chilly male voice.

"Same as the previous days, just stayed on the lawn longer today, and after returning, she stayed in her room the whole time and didn’t come out," Auntie Golding answered truthfully.

Cyrus Hawthorne nodded slightly, then pushed the door open and entered.

The room was dimly lit. Only a wall lamp by the bed emitted a faint, warm glow, illuminating the small figure on the bed.

Cyrus Hawthorne strode quietly to the bedside, his steps silent, not disturbing Ann Vaughn’s sleep.

She was sleeping soundly, her sleeping face under the light tender and beautiful, her small lips slightly pursed, and because the room was warm, her cheeks were a rosy pink like peach blossoms.

Yet she seemed so small that picking her up could almost encompass her entirely.

Although the weather was gradually heating up, these fluctuating temperatures were easy to catch a cold with, so Ann Vaughn would always cover herself well at night.

But still feeling hot, she kicked off her quilt with a twist, exposing a small patch of pale, delicate skin beneath her clothes.

Cyrus Hawthorne’s tall, slender figure stood there, gazing at her sleeping face for a long time. Suddenly, he reached out and gently pulled out a strand of hair tucked in her mouth.

The action was inexplicably tender.

Only then did he tuck her kicked-off quilt back in place, his palm pausing slightly over her abdomen.

Soon, his thin lips curved into a cold, mocking smile.

Just a little thing not yet formed, what was she hesitating about?

Auntie Golding waited outside the room for a long time, and after Cyrus Hawthorne left Ann Vaughn’s room as he did every night, she couldn’t help but wonder.

Why didn’t Mr. Hawthorne grant Miss Vaughn even a single meeting, yet every night, he came punctually just to see her after she fell asleep, not letting anyone know.

These rich folks, what on earth were they thinking?

But Auntie Golding dared not disobey Cyrus Hawthorne’s orders, so Ann Vaughn remained unaware that every night after she slept, Cyrus Hawthorne would appear.

Ever since discovering those rare herbs in the manor, Ann Vaughn was in no hurry to leave.

After all, such precious and free herbs were rarities outside the deep wildwoods, hardly seen in the market these days; she’d be mad to let the opportunity slip by.

Moreover, since Cyrus Hawthorne had confined her here, taking some herbs to compensate for her loss of freedom didn’t seem excessive, did it?

After another two days, Ann Vaughn finally completed the new extracted medicine, the crystal bowl filled with an azure liquid, looking very refreshing.

Only those who consumed it could appreciate how potent these medicines were in treating internal diseases.

"Let’s consider it a small compensation for the herbs I’ve taken from here." Ann Vaughn murmured softly, lowering her eyes, her slender fingers gently caressing the rim of the bowl, a resolute glint in her eyes.