CHAPTER 114: CHAPTER 114: WHAT IS HER MAGIC?

Inside the room, Cyrus Hawthorne stood by the bedside, watching Ann Vaughn’s peacefully sleeping face, tinged with a rosy hue, a trace of frustration passing through his narrow eyes.

He had always possessed good self-control, able to maintain a clear mind and steady awareness even during recurring episodes.

He could even discuss matters with partner companies casually, showing no sign of his internal state.

Just like his minimal desire for intimacy, he barely cared, finding such urges insignificant.

Yet, he repeatedly found himself testing his own limits with Ann Vaughn, as even a single glance from her could stir his suppressed desires uncontrollably.

What was her magic—

Cyrus Hawthorne’s slender, jade-like fingers moved from Ann Vaughn’s forehead, finally resting on her abdomen, the light in his narrowing eyes deep and unfathomable.

At that moment, the phone placed aside rang, abruptly breaking the silence in the dim room.

Almost within a second of its ringing, Cyrus Hawthorne picked it up and disconnected the call, then walked to the terrace to call Silas Master Moore back.

"What is it?"

"The group you asked me to investigate has been secretly dealt with by the Viper Sect, although finding clues from the dead is not beyond me," Silas Moore’s lazy voice came over the line.

However, due to Cyrus Hawthorne’s presence, Silas didn’t go into details, only saying, "They’re the gangsters who used to hang out with Ann Vaughn; it seems they came back for revenge."

Cyrus Hawthorne turned slightly, leaning against the white ornate railing of the terrace, a frown lightly creasing his brow. "Dead?"

"None survived," Silas Moore assured, "With all these key figures dead, it will take time to uncover what exactly happened three years ago."

"Heh, do you want me to investigate personally, or are you going to start telling the truth now?" Cyrus Hawthorne’s voice deepened, tinged with subtle displeasure.

Silas Moore looked at the data pulled up on his computer, first surprised, then letting out a small, self-deprecating laugh.

How sharp.

"According to the bar and the nearby surveillance, Ann Vaughn indeed visited that bar three years ago. At the time, Ann Vaughn also admitted to the media that she was involved, and the Vaughn Family then suppressed the incident."

"But I believe there are other anomalies to this, which is why I hesitated to deliver such a rash conclusion to you."

"Moreover, Cynthia Vaughn was also at that bar that day; she might know quite a bit regarding the incident."

What Silas Moore didn’t say was that he had reason to suspect Cynthia Vaughn might not be as innocent as she seemed.

Upon hearing this, Cyrus Hawthorne squinted his eyes, gazing at the lush distant woods, his tone calm and indifferent: "Keep investigating, get to the bottom of it."

"Okay. Besides, I’m quite curious, did you really feel nothing at all when you traded Ann Vaughn for Cynthia? It’s said that love lasts a hundred days, it seems you have had enough of Ann Vaughn to be so heartless."

"You talk too much." Cyrus Hawthorne’s handsome face immediately turned icy, and he hung up without a word, returning inside.

Looking at the disconnected screen, Silas Moore nonchalantly tossed the phone aside, placing his hand on the mouse and clicking twice to clip and back up the video.

"Interesting." He noted the contrasting testimonies from the bar’s surveillance and those given by the gangsters, rubbing his chin mischievously.

Three years ago, a female student from Imperial Capital High School spent the entire night with a gang, and when her daring photos got exposed, the girl in those photos was criticized relentlessly.

Yet none of those photos showed the girl’s true face, until Ann Vaughn admitted in front of all the media that she was the one in the photos...

Were it not for Cynthia Vaughn still lying in the intensive care unit, Silas would have liked to probe her, to see who was behind such actions back then.

Was it the seemingly gentle and deceivable Ann Vaughn or Cynthia Vaughn, this unpredictable woman?

-

The next day at noon, sunlight streamed through the curtains onto Ann Vaughn’s soft complexion.

The light nudged her awake, her sluggish mind slowly coming around, and she lifted the duvet to get out of bed to freshen up.

Unexpectedly, her legs gave way like cotton, sending her sprawling at the bedside, her face dazed.

Memories of last night’s chaos flooded her mind, making Ann Vaughn want to bury herself under the covers, never to emerge again.

If it weren’t for the soreness in her body, real like having been crushed under lemons, she might suspect last night was just a fevered dream.

Moments ago, her wrath threatened to ignite instantly, yet it was another fire that actually ignited the next second.

With a frustrated expression, Ann Vaughn supported herself up slowly, dragging herself to the bathroom despite the discomfort.

She found herself surprisingly clean and fresh, not a trace of stickiness on her body.

Understanding seemed to dawn, making Ann Vaughn’s face flush bright red, her teeth clamped tightly, feeling her entire body heating up.

She took a sharp breath, squeezing toothpaste onto her brush with a vengeance, brushing her teeth angrily.

What did Cyrus Hawthorne mean by this?!

An alternative form of punishment?

He didn’t allow her any resistance or retreat.

If she hadn’t timely inserted the Golden Needle at the acupoint, her body might not have withstood it and could have miscarried.

This thought darkened the discontent on Ann Vaughn’s brow.

Cyrus Hawthorne didn’t care about her or the child’s well-being, only seeking momentary release.

Realizing this, even her act of drying her face became feeble, her lips quirked into a faintly mocking smile.

She had overvalued herself; having been hurt, who was there to blame?

This night was indeed nothing, likely.

After freshening up, Ann Vaughn went to the dining room, only to see Juliana Jacobs in the living room.

"Miss Giles, why are you here?" Ann Vaughn entered the living room, slightly surprised at Juliana Jacobs’s presence.

Since the last fire at the villa, access to the private estate had been strictly restricted and checked; even Auntie Golding needed identity verification to go grocery shopping.

Juliana Jacobs’s presence here meant Cyrus Hawthorne had given permission.

"Mrs. Hawthorne, I’m here to see you." Juliana Jacobs stood immediately upon hearing Ann’s voice, bowing toward her, "After your reminder the other day, I went to the hospital for a check-up, only to discover I indeed had a health issue."