CHAPTER 76: CHAPTER 76: SIGNS OF MISCARRIAGE

She suddenly lifted her head, and when her eyes met Cyrus Hawthorne’s cold and stern black eyes, she felt as if she had fallen into an icy abyss, shivering uncontrollably.

She watched helplessly as he moved his eyes away from her with extreme disgust, bent down to pick up the unconscious Cynthia Vaughn from the floor, and marched away with long strides.

No accusations, no questioning.

But Ann Vaughn could directly feel that he hated her.

He really hated her.

Ann Vaughn bit her pale lip. Despite the room’s comfortable temperature, she felt extremely cold, her body trembling incessantly.

Trying to suppress the pain that seemed about to erupt, she couldn’t hold the Golden Needle steadily enough to administer acupuncture to herself, so she had to call an ambulance on her phone.

"Miss Vaughn, you have blood on you, what happened?"

Just then, Sutton Jennings, who had just finished a business deal and was passing by the staircase, spotted Ann Vaughn. Seeing the bloodstain on the back of her dress, his gaze turned dark.

Amid the buzzing in her ears, Ann Vaughn suddenly heard a familiar voice. Without thinking, she grabbed his coat buttons and struggled to speak, "Take me... to the hospital..."

The child must be okay, must not be...

-

Late at night, hospital.

Lying in the hospital bed, Ann Vaughn slowly regained consciousness, the smell of disinfectant filling her nostrils, causing her to frown.

Suddenly, she remembered something and was about to get up when a pair of warm hands held her down.

"Your body hasn’t recovered yet, lie down and rest well." Sutton Jennings said mildly, tucking her in, "Don’t worry, your child is fine."

His voice carried an inexplicable complexity.

Only by repressing it with all his might could he avoid revealing any flaw in front of her.

Ann Vaughn’s panicked heart began to calm down. Looking at Sutton Jennings’s alluring eyes, she nodded lightly, "Thank you. And, could you keep this a secret for me?"

"I can." Sutton Jennings didn’t ask her for reasons or who caused her distress that almost led to a miscarriage. His steady and reserved demeanor made one feel very secure.

Just as Ann Vaughn wasn’t inclined to explain, knowing this wasn’t a good thing.

After a while, Sutton Jennings stood up and said to her, "I’ll call the doctor over."

Ann Vaughn nodded, her gaze lowered, her small hand under the quilt gently stroking her abdomen.

Sutton Jennings soon returned with a doctor.

After reexamining Ann Vaughn, the doctor said, "The child is not in any serious danger now. Get some good rest over this period, and stop being reckless. You young people don’t know how to cherish yourselves. If you accidentally have a miscarriage, the harm to a woman’s body is tremendous."

With that, shaking his head, he walked out of the ward.

Ann Vaughn herself was a doctor, so she naturally understood the consequences and severity.

But just thinking of how Cyrus Hawthorne had cast her aside, like tossing away trash, the sting of that moment seemed to linger in her body.

Ann Vaughn tiredly lowered her eyes, her mind chaotic with uncomprehensible thoughts, pushing herself into a dead end.

Unconsciously, she fell asleep.

Sutton Jennings saw her asleep, casually turned off the lights in the ward, and watched her sleeping face for a long time in the darkness before quietly leaving.

In her half-awake state, Ann Vaughn felt a faint light in front of her as if someone had been staring at her.

That gaze was so dominant that she could feel it even in her sleep.

After a while, Ann Vaughn forced open her heavy eyelids, and what met her eyes was a familiar, cool figure.

Ann Vaughn’s eyes suddenly widened, her drowsiness instantly dissipating, leaving only daze and trepidation.

"Ann Vaughn, you do sleep well." Cyrus Hawthorne stood on one side of the ward, looking at her with a cold, mocking expression, "Because of you, Cynthia hasn’t woken up yet."

"I underestimated your malice, to the point that you can disregard your own sister’s life."

His voice was very low, carrying a coldness that resonated with the heart, making Ann Vaughn’s heart tighten.

Indeed, he thought she had pushed Cynthia Vaughn down the stairs.

She should explain, should clarify that she did not do it.

But as the words reached her lips, Ann Vaughn’s eyes concealed a hint of sorrow, she looked at him and spoke softly, "Is that so? Then let’s assume it was me."

"Do you have anything else? If not, I want to rest."

Cyrus Hawthorne let out a low snort from his thin lips, his narrowed eyes persistently cold, "Seeing as Cynthia is unconscious, you’re staying in the hospital. If this happens again, I will make you experience what it’s like to end up in jail."

He’s willing to send her to jail for something she never did?

Ann Vaughn’s lips twitched, almost making a soundless laugh, yet her mouth felt bitter to death.

"Cyrus Hawthorne, do you think that whenever something happens to Cynthia Vaughn, it must have been me?"

Cyrus did not answer her, but his expression gave her the answer.

Ann Vaughn’s heart suddenly sank, as if plunging into a deep sea where no sunlight could penetrate.

The suffocating feeling wrapped her layer by layer.

"If," Ann Vaughn lifted her gaze to him, her hand under the quilt gripping the sheet tighter, as if wagering everything, she said, "If I were pregnant, and it was me who fell, what then?"

"Would you still not care?"

The already cold atmosphere in the ward grew even more tense.

Because of Ann Vaughn’s hypothesis, the cold smile in Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes gradually faded, staring intently at Ann Vaughn’s pale and stubborn face, as if trying to discern something from it.

He suddenly leaned in, forcibly turning Ann Vaughn’s face with a broad hand, grasping her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze, "You better not have such thoughts, even if you do."

His eyes slowly fell to Ann Vaughn’s abdomen, the curve of his thin lips cruel and savage, "I won’t keep it."

"Is that so?" A choke rose in Ann Vaughn’s throat, she struggled free from his fingertips, turning her head away, hiding her slightly damp cheeks.

"Then I should be glad, for having no thoughts about carrying your child. Also, I hope you make time to handle the divorce proceedings once I’m discharged."

Her voice was slightly hoarse, yet showed no peculiarity.

Cyrus Hawthorne’s sharp eyes scrutinized her side profile for a long time, never spotting anything different.

Soon after, he pulled his lips into a cold smile.

If this woman was really pregnant with his child, considering the lengths she went to marry into the Hawthorne family, she wouldn’t make no demands and only want a divorce.

Moreover, it was impossible for her to conceive his child.

With this thought, Cyrus Hawthorne turned to leave the ward, "When the time is right, I will have the lawyer contact you."

Until her heart is transplanted to Cynthia Vaughn, never to wake again?

Ann Vaughn faced away from the ward door, her body curling up bit by bit, her fingers pressed tightly against her heart.

The sharp pain radiated throughout her body, and she had to fight back hard not to cry out in pain.

The warm and gentle face of the little brother from her childhood and Cyrus Hawthorne’s cold and disdainful face alternated in her mind.

Ann Vaughn bit hard on her lips and buried her face in the pillow.

Indeed, keeping the child’s existence hidden was the right decision.