CHAPTER 907: CHAPTER 907: REWARD

...Lian Zhiqiao?

Ann Vaughn was suddenly taken aback, her bright eyes filled with confusion. What is Lian Zhiqiao?

Before she could figure it out, Cyrus Hawthorne replied in a calm voice, "Lian Zhiqiao blooms depending on the temperature. If the temperature is right, it’s possible for it to bloom in winter."

Then he turned on the automatic watering system in the flower bed, seemingly glancing nonchalantly in Ann Vaughn’s direction.

Just in time to catch a flash of astonishment across her face.

Cyrus Hawthorne’s thin lips curved slightly, the smile in his narrow eyes fleeting.

Ann Vaughn didn’t notice it at all, her entire attention was on the flowers, her long eyelashes trembling gently.

It’s really called Lian Zhiqiao...

Is this a coincidence? Or does it have something to do with her past?

Ann Vaughn’s thoughts drifted further and further away, and she didn’t know how much time had passed before a black Lian Zhiqiao suddenly appeared in front of her.

Ann Vaughn looked up with some confusion at Cyrus Hawthorne, "What is this?"

"A reward," Cyrus Hawthorne said in a husky voice.

Ann Vaughn’s heart inexplicably warmed, and she reached out to take the Lian Zhiqiao he handed her. The flower was still dotted with water droplets, and bringing it close to her nose, the fragrance was rich.

This was the first time she received flowers.

Whether she received any before her amnesia was another matter.

Ann Vaughn’s eyebrows arched with a bit more sincerity in her smile, "Thank you, Mr. Vaughn."

"By the way, I haven’t asked yet, what is your name, Mr. Vaughn?"

Cyrus Hawthorne slightly tilted his head, his narrow eyes gazing unwaveringly into hers, the undercurrents within deeper and richer than the night sky.

"James Vaughn."

...

The direct result of keeping the phone’s flashlight on was that Ann Vaughn’s phone ran out of power before bedtime.

The candles in the guest room were still burning, their flickering light casting shadows on the wall that seemed to flicker and disappear, creating an eerie scene.

Ann Vaughn stood bitterly in front of the room door, hesitating to enter.

Cyrus Hawthorne noticed something but pretended not to and asked indifferently, "Does Miss Vaughn have any other matters?"

"Mr. Vaughn, can we discuss something?" Ann Vaughn retracted her foot, took a deep breath, and turned to Cyrus Hawthorne.

"Hmm?"

"Can I sleep in Kenny’s room? Don’t worry, I’m not going to take Kenny’s bed; I can sleep on the sofa."

"..."

The smile at the corner of The great President Hawthorne’s mouth suddenly froze.

So she prefers the little one’s sofa over his spacious bed?

Cyrus Hawthorne chuckled coldly to himself inside, but outwardly, he remained a gentleman, nodding with a smile, "Sure, I wish you sweet dreams."

"You too, Mr. Vaughn."

After Cyrus Hawthorne left, Ann Vaughn took the blanket and candelabra from the guest room to the children’s room.

The Little Dumpling was already fast asleep, and Ann Vaughn, worried, checked his pulse once again, but found nothing amiss. Only then did she return to the sofa to lay down, counting sheep to fall asleep.

The night grew deeper.

A slender figure stepped into the children’s room, walked straight to the sofa, and gently carried the deeply sleeping Ann Vaughn out of the room.

Breeze had not waited long in the guest room when he saw Cyrus Hawthorne carrying Ann Vaughn in. About to speak, he was silenced by a warning glance from Cyrus.

"Do you really have to show her like this?"

"Yes." Cyrus Hawthorne gently placed Ann Vaughn back on the bed. "She is very cautious about the outside world now. Directly telling her might have the opposite effect."

He could only try to guide her slowly back to her memories without triggering her.

Breeze nodded helplessly, opening the medical box to take out tools and examine Ann Vaughn.

With current medical instruments, it’s impossible to detect any mental abnormalities in Ann Vaughn, and even more so to easily cure her.

Breeze wasn’t too confident either, but he had to try.

The quartz clock on the wall ticked silently, time slipping away bit by bit.

Cyrus Hawthorne’s frown deepened, his thin lips pressed into a line.

"All done." It was a long while before Breeze put the tools away, frowning at Cyrus Hawthorne, "The trauma caused by Ryan Wyatt’s Puppetry Technique on Miss Vaughn’s mind is one of the causes of her amnesia due to its failure."

Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes darkened, "What’s the second cause?"

Breeze nodded, "The second cause is herself. I tried to awaken her memories just now, but her subconscious is strongly resistant. It doesn’t seem like Ryan Wyatt imposed some restriction; it’s more like she doesn’t want to recall the past."

"There are two possible reasons for this: one, she experienced some trauma before her amnesia, and she’s terrified of it, needing to forget in order to keep living. Two, Ryan Wyatt’s Puppetry Technique is so perfected that even I couldn’t find a flaw."

Either reason is quite fatal.

The room fell into silence.

After a long time, Cyrus Hawthorne finally spoke in a deep voice, "Her right hand was once shot, but there’s no wound, why is that?"

"Her right hand’s meridians are severed, it’s mostly useless now." Discovering this, Breeze felt a sense of heaviness.

"The reason there’s no wound, I guess, is because Warren Vance used Gothasen’s secret medicine on her. That medicine, when applied to the wound, would make even scars disappear in less than two days."

But since Ann Vaughn’s right hand was damaged internally, it wouldn’t heal just because the wound closed externally.

"No possibility of a cure?" Cyrus Hawthorne’s fists clenched tightly, his aura growing colder and more forceful.

Breeze felt a hint of dread under Cyrus’s icy, sharp gaze, barely able to breathe.

"I might have been able to treat it some time ago, but now... aside from the pre-amnesia Ann Vaughn, no one else in this world might be able to treat a hand with severed meridians."

No one knows the significance of a doctor’s hands better than Breeze.

Especially hands skilled in acupuncture and knowledgeable in pharmacology, they are priceless.

What a pity.

After stating that, fearing Cyrus might direct his anger towards him, Breeze quickly added, "Although I can’t heal her hand, I can help repair the mental aspect of her trauma, but it will take a longer period."

The dark cloud around Cyrus Hawthorne didn’t dissipate at all, it felt like a fire had swept through his chest, leaving nothing but desolation.

"Leave."

"Call me if you need anything!" Delighted, Breeze grabbed the medical box and left.

The room returned to quiet. Ann Vaughn still slept, completely unaware of what had just happened.

Cyrus Hawthorne lay down beside her, gently slipping his left arm under her neck, and surrounded her waist with his right hand, holding her close.

His movements were gentle, filled with a cautious tenderness. He seemed afraid to hurt her, not daring even to touch her right hand lightly.

Finally, embracing her again, Cyrus Hawthorne bowed his head in silent sigh.

He hadn’t thought that even holding her to sleep would become such a luxury now.