CHAPTER 918: CHAPTER 918: LITTLE THING, WISHFUL THINKING

Ann Vaughn’s tightly pressed lips trembled as she looked down and saw the man sitting inside the car, her fingers awkwardly curling up.

Why is it that every time she meets this man, it’s always at such a delicate moment...

"...There was an issue with the house, so this is what happened."

Being kicked out by an unscrupulous landlord in the middle of the night is quite an embarrassing thing to admit.

...Even though anyone can tell from the current situation what must have happened.

Then Cyrus Hawthorne stepped out of the car, walking towards her with a steady gait, his gaze focusing on her pale face that clearly showed discomfort, his brows slightly knitted.

"Are you planning to sit here all night?"

"Ah? Not really..." Ann Vaughn stood up from her suitcase, placing her small hand on the handle, trying to act indifferent as she said, "I haven’t managed to get a cab yet. I’m planning to stay at a hotel for the night and figure everything else out tomorrow."

After she finished speaking, Ann Vaughn thought she heard Cyrus Hawthorne let out a soft sigh.

But when she looked over at him, his expression was as calm as ever, without the slightest change.

"Come with me," Cyrus Hawthorne said in a deep voice, pulling her suitcase and heading towards the trunk of the car.

Ann Vaughn was immediately taken aback, "No need, I..."

Before she could finish, Cyrus Hawthorne slightly turned his head to look at her, his dark, narrow eyes deep like a bottomless pond.

"If you can’t get a cab, are you planning to sleep on the roadside for the night?"

Ann Vaughn: "..." This is really awkward.

Villa No. 8.

The black Maybach smoothly parked in the garage.

Cyrus Hawthorne got out of the car first, then walked to the other side to open the door for Ann Vaughn, "We’re here, get out of the car."

"Oh, oh," Ann Vaughn immediately snapped out of it when she heard the voice, hurriedly getting out of the car and then rubbing her forehead vigorously.

Strange, why does it feel like someone flicked her forehead...

Seeing Cyrus Hawthorne pulling out her suitcase and heading towards the villa, Ann Vaughn didn’t have time to think much, quickly following him.

The villa’s servants hadn’t gone to bed yet, and upon receiving Cyrus Hawthorne’s order, they immediately moved the rest of Ann Vaughn’s luggage into the villa.

Returning to the room where she had stayed a few days ago, Ann Vaughn still felt a bit dazed.

Originally, she thought she’d be sleeping on the street tonight, but unexpectedly, James Vaughn brought her back...

She felt remorseful; she shouldn’t have muttered before that James Vaughn was part of capitalism.

He’s the epitome of a good person!

"The sheets and quilt covers are new, and there’s a full set of toiletries in the bathroom as well. If you need anything else, just let me know."

Cyrus Hawthorne walked out of the walk-in closet, the cuffs rolled up at some point, revealing a section of muscular, smoothly lined forearm.

"Alright, thank you." Ann Vaughn nodded somewhat awkwardly, "Thank you, Mr. Vaughn, for letting me stay for the night. I’ll move out once I find a place tomorrow."

Move out?

Cyrus Hawthorne’s deep, dark eyes held a faint smile.

Little thing’s quite optimistic.

"Rest well, good night." In just an instant, Cyrus Hawthorne regained his gentlemanly demeanor, smiling gently.

"Good night, Mr. Vaughn."

After Cyrus Hawthorne left, Ann Vaughn’s forced energy finally relaxed, her porcelain-white face showing signs of fatigue.

"Mommy!"

At this moment, the guest room door suddenly opened, and a round little dumpling ran in with a patter.

"Mommy, Kenny missed you so much!" The little dumpling hugged Ann Vaughn’s leg, cheek gently rubbing against her hand.

Like a little kitten acting cute, utterly adorable.

"Kenny." Ann Vaughn was so charmed by him that her heart nearly melted, dispersing a good amount of her sleepiness.

She reached out to pick up his soft little body, her bright eyes smiling warmly, "Mommy missed Kenny too."

Interestingly, despite having no relation to this child, she missed him dearly after just a few days.

Every time she sees him, there’s an indescribable feeling of affection in her heart.

Perhaps it’s the empathy effect after hearing from Kressiel that she has a son.

The little dumpling beamed with delight, hugging Ann Vaughn’s neck, saying in a cute, childish voice, "Kenny hasn’t heard Mommy’s bedtime story for three days."

"Mommy’s saved them all for you, none missing." Ann Vaughn suppressed a chuckle, giving him a kiss on the cheek, "Why are you still up so late? Kids shouldn’t stay up late."

It’s nearly one in the morning now.

...Wait.

One o’clock in the morning?!

Ann Vaughn looked up at the wall’s quartz clock, a look of confusion flashing in her eyes, "Kenny, I thought the area around your house prohibits vehicles from passing after eight PM?"

So how did James Vaughn bring her in just now??

"Yes, but every Sunday it’s open all day, no restrictions," the little dumpling’s eyes darted around, skillfully covering for his dad’s lie.

Ann Vaughn nodded thoughtfully, "So that’s it."

She almost thought James Vaughn had lied to her before.

But on second thought, she realized she had nothing worth deceiving, so why overthink it?

...

The calming incense filled the guest room, and Ann Vaughn quickly fell into a deep sleep, oblivious to the outside world.

The medicinal herb cluster, emitting a fine white smoke, lightly touched her temples. It wasn’t hot enough to burn her skin but would gradually release its medicinal effects, reducing her headaches each time.

Strangely, though, the hypnosis attempt Breeze performed on Ann Vaughn did not succeed this time.

Breeze tried two more times, only to barely achieve ordinary results.

"Mr. Hawthorne, Miss Vaughn hasn’t recently been in contact with anyone from Gothasen, has she? Like Ryan Wyatt," Breeze asked in surprise after packing up the tools and turning to Cyrus Hawthorne.

Cyrus Hawthorne nodded slightly, "No."

Even if they wanted to come, it wouldn’t be that easy.

Breeze turned back to the peacefully sleeping Ann Vaughn, unable to fathom the situation.

If she hadn’t been in direct contact with Ryan Wyatt, how had Ann Vaughn been mentally influenced...

Or did he use the wrong method?

...

The next day.

Ann Vaughn rubbed her sore shoulders and neck as she made her way to the dining room, where she saw Cyrus Hawthorne and Kenny already seated, apparently waiting for her to come down for breakfast.

"Good morning, Mr. Vaughn, good morning, Kenny."

Cyrus Hawthorne’s gaze moved from his newspaper, giving her a slight nod, "Morning."

"Good morning, Mommy." The little dumpling looked at Ann Vaughn’s hand rubbing her shoulder and asked, "Mommy, did you sleep wrong to get a sore shoulder?"

Ann Vaughn also found it odd. The guest room’s bed was far more comfortable than the one in her apartment, yet every time she woke up, her shoulders were sore and her neck stiff...

"Could it be sleep paralysis?" Ann Vaughn muttered to herself, shivering involuntarily.

Her voice was low, and the little dumpling didn’t catch what she said, but Cyrus Hawthorne lightly coughed.

"Let’s have breakfast first."

"Oh, oh, okay!"