CHAPTER 167: CHAPTER 167: AZURE VAUGHN IS BACK

This is really strange. I have a feeling she has some background and can’t possibly be unknown.

At this moment, I thought of Tiana O’Connell, this workaholic who spends her days socializing and researching other companies. If a woman with some background suddenly appears in City A, she’d likely notice.

I immediately sent a message to Tiana O’Connell: How was the matchmaking? Reply when you have time. I want to ask you something.

A minute later, I received a call from Tiana O’Connell.

"Tsk tsk, Zoe, that Simon Sinclair is so handsome! I was practically drooling over him!" Tiana O’Connell didn’t hide her fondness for Simon Sinclair. "No wonder I wasn’t interested in other men before; turns out, he’s my type. I’ve decided, it’s him. I want to date him!"

"Looks like your heart is fluttering. That’s good." I genuinely felt happy for Tiana O’Connell, finding a man she is interested in isn’t easy for her.

"I’m on my way home now. Are you home yet?" Tiana O’Connell asked me.

"I’m home. Let me ask you something. Do you know if there’s a new person emerging in City A recently, with the last name He, a woman in her fifties?" I described briefly, as I knew very little about that middle-aged woman, having only seen her twice at Melodia Hall.

Tiana O’Connell pondered for a moment, "I don’t have any impression; want me to ask when I get back?"

"Okay, let me know when you have an answer." I replied.

Subsequently, I poured some red wine, a pre-sleep aid, and just as I finished drinking, Tiana O’Connell called again. I didn’t expect her to be so fast!

"Zoe, there really is such a person, named Wendy Hawthorne, returned from abroad. Her husband is the vice president of the Mystique Group abroad. It seems like she’s back to invest and start a company. Do you know her?" Tiana O’Connell asked me.

"I don’t know her, I just... saw her once at a concert with Crystal and them, she was sitting and chatting with a colleague of my dad, made me a bit curious." My explanation was truthful, with a slight omission.

Tiana O’Connell didn’t think much of it, and after a few casual exchanges, she went to bathe.

I, on the other hand, found it even harder to fall asleep. Wendy Hawthorne’s identity is quite complex.

If the woman behind the Lincoln car was truly Azure Vaughn, then how did Azure know this woman?

My mind was a bit tangled, not because I minded Azure reappearing in City A. I even guessed she wouldn’t be content and would certainly return as long as she’s alive.

I just felt that if she came back this time with a backing, it might stir up some trouble, and I hated facing this.

This issue almost kept me up all night. It wasn’t until five-thirty in the morning that I groggily fell asleep, and at ten-thirty in the morning, I received a call from Ivan Underwood.

"Hello?" I mumbled, "Who’s this?"

"..." The other side was silent for a few seconds before Ivan Underwood’s clear voice sounded, "Don’t tell me you’re still sleeping."

"Oh, Ivan Underwood, yeah, I’m sleeping, what’s up?" My eyes could barely open, and my words were muddled. Suddenly, I remembered asking him to find an obstetrician for me, and I immediately woke up, "I’m up! Just took a nap in the morning!"

It seems doctors have some peculiar quirks, like expecting others to have a healthy routine because they themselves do. Ivan Underwood seems to have this tendency.

"Do you have time this afternoon? I’ve arranged an appointment with an experienced obstetrician for you," Ivan Underwood, being a man of his word, found one for me as promised.

I felt a wave of excitement, "Yes, I’m free! Tell me which hospital, which doctor!"

"I’ve sent all the information; are you sure you only dozed off for a while?" Ivan Underwood was full of doubt, "I sent it to you around eight."

A man of his word tends to be serious, and I let out a dry laugh, "I’ll check the message first."

After hanging up, I quickly checked WeChat. Ivan Underwood not only texted me but also left a voice call, which I missed.

The little lie just now was utterly pointless.

After confirming the time, location, and the doctor’s identity, I got up, took a quick shower, changed clothes, and went downstairs to eat. My parents were not home at this time, presumably busy with their things.

But my mom kindly prepared breakfast for me, which only needed to be microwaved.

With some time before the afternoon appointment, I looked up information on Wendy Hawthorne. Having her full name allowed me to find bits of information, mainly from foreign sites.

The findings sank my heart to the bottom.

Wendy Hawthorne remarried Abner, the vice president of the Mystique Group. At their age, it’s unlikely they have children, so she found a goddaughter, which made news, and that goddaughter is Azure.

Seeing their one and only photo on the news felt like a dream.

Azure really is a resilient fighter, surviving a seemingly dead-end and also crossing social ranks, becoming a so-called wealthy heiress through Wendy Hawthorne. Although adopted, Wendy Hawthorne dotes on her, with media reporting that on the day their mother-daughter relationship was established, Wendy Hawthorne gifted Azure a villa and jewelry worth five million dollars.

With this, I can basically confirm that the woman in Wendy Hawthorne’s Lincoln car is Azure.

I closed the webpage, feeling uneasy, but had to brace myself for whatever came next, as I couldn’t directly confront Azure.

Around one o’clock, I drove to the hospital Ivan Underwood mentioned and, after a series of examinations, received results that were very disappointing, almost making me feel hopeless.

"Miss Hathaway, the chances are really slim!"

These words left me sitting despondently in the corridor, unable to come back to my senses for a long time.

"Mom, I told you I’m fine! No need to worry about these things!" Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice, sweet and endearing, with a hint of a whining tone.

I turned to see Azure Vaughn holding Wendy Hawthorne’s arm, standing not far away.

After a while, she seemed even thinner, but still carried that pure and lovely air. Her clothes changed from affordable brands to high-end brands, enhancing her stunning beauty.

Wendy Hawthorne looked at me, then at Azure, with a smile that felt inexplicably uncomfortable, "Azure, what’s wrong? Do you know this lady?"

"Mom, she’s my friend, you know. Before I met you, she always ’took care’ of me!" Azure deliberately emphasized the word "took care."

"Is that so? Then you should thank her properly now that you’re back, okay?" Wendy Hawthorne clearly had underlying meanings in her words.

I folded the examination results in my hands and tucked them into my bag. Given my foul mood, even though I was shocked and annoyed by the appearance of Azure and Wendy Hawthorne, I didn’t feel like exchanging words.

I’m not God, and I can’t control their personal freedom.

So I decided not to see them, got up, and prepared to leave. But Azure came after me, wearing a familiar perfume—it was a gift I gave to Laura Lawson, which she passed down to Azure.

This behavior is beyond my understanding; Azure is still using the same perfume, and I don’t know what it means.

"Does it smell nice?" Azure raised her hand, her slender, fair fingers delicately waving, "I didn’t expect the perfumes you gave my mom’s maids to smell so good. I bought several bottles at the counter a few days ago; I really like this scent, but it’s a bit pricey."

I looked at her impassively, lacking any emotional turbulence, with no intention to reply.

Azure seemed dissatisfied with my reaction upon seeing her again, and continued, "Miss Hathaway, why aren’t you talking? Are you too happy to see me?"

"Please step aside. A good dog doesn’t block the way." I brushed past Azure and continued walking.

"I thought our meeting would be interesting when I returned transformed, but it’s so dull and tasteless." Azure’s tone carried unwillingness.

I glanced back at her, thought of saying something, but looking at her face, suddenly didn’t feel like saying anything, didn’t want to waste any words.

After leaving the hospital, I sat in the car for a while, repeatedly looking at those examination reports, unable to articulate how I felt.

As I was staring off into space, Ivan Underwood called, "How is it?"

His concern surprised me, but I couldn’t pretend to be relaxed, "Not good, there’s probably no hope."

The other side fell into a prolonged silence. Until I heard someone calling "Dr. Underwood", Ivan Underwood softly said to me, "If you’re free tomorrow night, let’s have dinner. It’s on me."