CHAPTER 942: CHAPTER 942: PRETENDING TO HAVE AMNESIA

"Brother-in-law, you must stand up for me." Leona Chambers covered her face, her eyes brimming with tears, pleading pitifully with Julian Master Moore.

Julian’s gaze fell on the book pages, his voice emotionless as he asked, "There’s something strange."

"What’s strange?" Letitia Chambers asked hurriedly.

"You’ve always been at odds with Susie. Every meeting ends in quarrels and scuffles, constant fighting, but that’s nothing new." Julian examined Leona, "What’s new is that you actually took the initiative to visit her in the hospital."

His gaze appeared gentle, yet it carried a sharpness that seemed to penetrate the human soul.

Leona, facing the direct hit, blushed even more.

Just as she was about to retort, Julian interrupted her.

"There’s one more thing," handing the book to Sean Sloan behind him, Julian said lightly, "Letitia, I thought you were a smart person, someone who knows how to position herself correctly."

Letitia’s face turned pale.

How could she not hear the warning in his words—wearing the title of his fiancée didn’t mean there was any real relationship between them.

If she can’t stay clear-headed, he could take everything back at any time.

"I’m sorry, Julian, I promised you earlier to keep that matter a secret from the outside, so I didn’t even tell my sister." Letitia’s smile reappeared, apologetically saying, "She was unintentional, if it made you uncomfortable, I apologize on her behalf."

Leona, having been criticized by Julian, didn’t dare to counter with a single word, covering her face to endure the itching.

Julian said no more, telling Sean, "Take me upstairs."

"Alright." Sean replied, pushing Julian’s wheelchair out of the living room.

As their figures disappeared, Letitia’s face darkened instantly, without any pretense.

"Sis, does brother-in-law still have feelings for that bitch?" Leona scratched her face hard, saying angrily, "I just knew that Susie, the vixen, can’t live without seducing other people’s men!"

Letitia’s expression softened a bit, "From now on, watch yourself, don’t call Julian brother-in-law again, and certainly don’t mention Susie in front of him."

"Why? Susie harmed me like this, do I have to swallow the anger?"

Letitia no longer had the mind to care about those, reflecting on Julian’s words just now, feeling constricted inside.

Julian had always treated people with gentleness and politeness, rarely speaking harshly to anyone, more gentlemanly than even the most gentlemanly.

Yet such a person would warn them just because they said a few truths about Susie...

What does this mean?

Could it be he still has feelings for Susie?

...

The next morning.

Villa No. 8.

Breeze carefully removed the bandage from Kenny’s neck, observing the already healing wound, surprisingly saying, "Mr. Hawthorne, did you apply some special medicine on the young master’s wound? How did it recover so quickly?"

Just a few days ago Breeze came to change Kenny’s dressing, and his wound hadn’t fully scabbed over, yet today it’s almost healed.

This left Breeze feeling a bit frustrated.

He prided himself on his medical skills, yet always found himself somewhat inferior to Ann Vaughn.

"It’s because Kenny drinks the love-imbued porridge personally made by his mommy every day, so he recovers quickly." Little Dumpling nodded his head, no matter how he turned his neck now, the wound didn’t hurt anymore.

If Ann Vaughn hadn’t thrown away the porridge she initially made, Little Dumpling might have recovered even faster.

Cyrus Hawthorne narrowed his eyes with a slight smile, "Your mommy worked hard for you for so many days, shouldn’t you thank her?"

Little Dumpling nodded vigorously, looked around, and asked, "Isn’t mommy up yet?"

"She has something to attend to and will return later."

Little Dumpling softly said oh, and after Breeze left the medicine and walked away, suspiciously glanced at Cyrus, "Daddy, did you make mommy upset?"

"Hmm?"

"Mommy rarely stays out all night. Even if she does, she always explains to Kenny. But mommy didn’t say anything to Kenny last night."

Saying this, Little Dumpling’s eyes became resentful.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow slightly, "What do you mean?"

"Before, you went to such lengths as pretending to have amnesia just to win mommy back. I thought you had plenty of experience." Little Dumpling sighed, "I didn’t expect that now with mommy’s memory loss, you have no means at all."

This proves that dealing with mommy is not easy.

Cyrus narrowed his eyes, looking at Little Dumpling with a half-smile, "You know?"

Not even Old Master Hawthorne or Mark Joyce knew about this.

Yet Little Dumpling knew it clearly.

"Uh-huh." Little Dumpling propped his cheeks with his hands, humming without revealing why.

The so-called confusion of those involved and clarity of the bystanders.

At that time, Little Dumpling hadn’t fully accepted Cyrus Hawthorne, worried he would fight for mommy, he had to carefully analyze anything he did.

Eventually, after much analyzing, he discovered the truth.

But as Little Dumpling’s impression of Cyrus improved, he kept this secret in his heart, never exposing it.

"Now I hold your secret. If you don’t want mommy to find out and make you sleep in the study for a month, you’d better know what to do without my instruction!" Little Dumpling stood, hands on hips.

Oh my.

The little one learned to threaten people.

Cyrus’ lips curled into a smile, teasingly asking, "What do you want me to do?"

"Now, immediately, go find mommy! If you can’t bring her back, don’t bother coming back, and sleep on the street tonight!" Little Dumpling demanded firmly, exuding the demeanor of a household head.

"That might be challenging; over 75% of hotel properties in The Imperial Capital belong to the Hawthorne Group."

Meaning, telling him to sleep on the street would require bankrupting the Hawthorne Group first.

Little Dumpling: "What good is your money if you can’t win mommy’s heart!"

"As long as your mommy can’t escape, there’s time for everything else."

"..."

Mark Joyces, walking in on the father-son spar, wished nothing more than to back out.

What was more pathetic was realizing that without Miss Vaughn, no one could manage these two.

And what was Ann Vaughn, about whom they were talking, doing at this moment?

She was being a thief... oh no, she was gathering intelligence.

In the café opposite the Hawthorne Group, Ann Vaughn specifically chose a window seat to observe the scene at the entrance of the building.

Although she didn’t know what Cyrus Hawthorne looked like, maybe if she saw him in person, it would cause a headache reaction?

With this ’let’s try’ mind-set, Ann Vaughn sat there for nearly an entire morning.

Instead of waiting for Cyrus, she bumped into a familiar face.

"Miss Annie, what are you doing here?" Joyce Chancellor, stepping in high heels, approached Ann Vaughn, her face beaming with a smile, "What a coincidence we have, running into each other every time."