CHAPTER 943: CHAPTER 943: ALREADY DIVORCED

Upon hearing the voice, Ann Vaughn lifted her head, "I heard from a friend that the coffee here is delicious, so I came to try it. What about you?"

Joyce Chancellor took the opportunity to sit down in front of her, holding up the bag in her hand, "I’m here to help a colleague buy coffee. This shop is right in front of our company, surely you noticed?"

Ann Vaughn smiled without saying a word.

"Or," Joyce Chancellor leaned closer to the table, gossiping, "are you here chasing after Actor Sheridan?"

"What?"

"You see, isn’t there a crowd outside our company building?" Joyce Chancellor pointed in a direction, "They’re fans who heard Actor Sheridan is coming to our company to sign a contract today, and they’re here especially to wait for him."

Following Joyce Chancellor’s direction, Ann Vaughn indeed saw a bunch of fans holding signs.

A rough count showed quite a number of people.

"The actor’s popularity is really high." Ann Vaughn took a sip of coffee, speaking unemotionally, "By the way, the robot toy we bought together last time, no issues, right?"

Joyce Chancellor’s face fell, rolling up her sleeves, "I have to complain about that brand! Just last night, I unpacked the box, and something popped out, scratching my arm!"

Looking at the obvious scratch marks on her arm, Ann Vaughn lightly furrowed her brows.

"The one I bought too is the same; it must be a quality issue with the product, it’s too dangerous."

"Miss Annie, are you hurt?" Joyce Chancellor asked with concern, "It’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have recommended that brand of robot to you; who knew such a big mistake would happen..."

Ann Vaughn shook her head, "I’m fine. You meant well, it’s not your fault."

Initially, she did suspect Joyce Chancellor, as well as the gift shop, but it seems the problem lies with the brand itself now.

"Miss Annie, you’re so good!"

Ann Vaughn smiled lightly, her eyes unintentionally glancing towards Hawthorne Tower, "Last time you mentioned your boss has lots of admirers, I’m curious about his appearance, do you have a photo of him?"

Unable to find pictures of Cyrus Hawthorne online, as his secretary, Joyce Chancellor might have a few.

Joyce Chancellor’s eyes glimmered, "No, nobody in our group dares to secretly take photos of the boss, we might lose our jobs."

"I see." Ann Vaughn nodded, "Do you know his wife’s name?"

"It should be ex-wife, actually. I overheard it from the secretaries gossiping, our president and his ex-wife divorced long ago... Speaking of names, they avoid the subject; I only know his former wife shared your surname Vaughn."

They divorced a long time ago, and she shares the surname Vaughn...

Ann Vaughn fell silent, unsure what to feel.

"What about their son?"

"No idea, his ex-wife and son haven’t appeared publicly for a long time, likely sent abroad." Joyce Chancellor tossed a few sugar cubes into the coffee cup, sighing, "It’s quite tragic, essentially exiled."

Upon hearing this, Ann Vaughn furrowed her brows tightly.

Is that why she’s in Gothasen rather than S Country, because Cyrus Hawthorne exiled her abroad?

What about that child? Where was he sent by Cyrus Hawthorne?

Before she could figure it out, Ann Vaughn’s head, which hadn’t ached for a while, began throbbing again.

Leaving the coffee shop, Ann Vaughn walked towards the curb to hail a taxi.

Just as she stopped, a white Panamera, seemingly anticipating her, pulled up right in front of her.

The passenger window lowered, a man wearing sunglasses spoke to Ann Vaughn in a low voice, "Miss Vaughn, our boss would like to invite you for a meeting."

Here we go again.

Last time it was a lady who wanted to see her, now it’s a boss, and Ann Vaughn didn’t know so many people knew her?

"Who is your boss?"

After asking, Ann Vaughn didn’t expect them to answer, as they were skilled in being mysterious.

Yet, unexpectedly, the man in sunglasses replied:

"Our boss is Nathan Hawthorne, you might have heard of him."

Nathan Hawthorne?

The name echoed in Ann Vaughn’s mind several times, then she shook her head, "Sorry, I don’t know him."

The man in sunglasses was about to speak again, but his gaze shifted, and his face changed immediately.

"I hope you consider it well; our boss genuinely wishes to meet you. I’ll come back for your response next time, sorry for disturbing."

Once the words were spoken, the Panamera drove away from Ann Vaughn, as if being chased by something terrifying.

Ann Vaughn: "..."

Each one stranger than the last.

But...

Ann Vaughn contemplated the name Nathan Hawthorne, and a thought suddenly emerged in her heart.

Sharing the Hawthorne surname, could there be a connection to Cyrus Hawthorne?

Before she figured it out, Ann Vaughn unexpectedly felt a forceful bump on her shoulder, forcing her to step back several times before stabilizing.

She hadn’t uttered a word when the person who bumped into her started cursing.

"What the hell, can’t you see? We’re walking here, and you’re in our way, trying to cause a scene?"

A man and a woman stood arm in arm; the man wore glasses and seemed steady, but his eyes were clouded, not looking like a good person.

The woman was heavily made-up, dressed boldly and sensually, arrogant due to her few assets, her words dripping with contempt.

Her words nearly triggered Ann Vaughn to laughter.

"What? Does your family own this street? You bumped into me without apologizing and even blamed me." Ann Vaughn chuckled coldly, "I guess I should get a rabies shot first, better safe than sorry."

Though she didn’t utter a single profanity, every word poisoned to the core.

The woman’s face turned green and red, "You little bitch, who are you calling a dog?!"

"Whoever responded is who I meant."

"Mind your language, one more word and I’ll slap you!" Seemingly unable to outargue Ann Vaughn, the man faced her with a stern expression, thinking he looked intimidating.

"Oh? Such authority you have."

Suddenly, a cold voice echoed from behind Ann Vaughn.

Ann Vaughn’s bright eyes lit up briefly before realizing something, dimming quickly.

As the figure appeared in her vision, the man’s expression immediately changed, the malicious look vanishing, replaced by instinctual awe and fear.

"C-Cyrus—"

Before he could utter the last syllable, Mark Joyce placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, smiling, "Team Leader Halloway, please, come with me, I have some instructions for you."

Jude Halloway swallowed the words that were about to come out, dared not say another word, and followed Mark Joyce unwillingly.

Seeing Jude Halloway have his luck run out, the woman no longer dared to linger, lowered her head, and left.

Only then did Ann Vaughn turn to face Cyrus Hawthorne, about to speak, only to notice he was holding a bouquet of vibrant roses.