CHAPTER 119: CHAPTER 119: YOU REALLY DO KNOW YOUR PLACE

"Still trying to escape?" Cyrus Hawthorne’s jaw tensed slightly, his cold and restrained words seemed to burst from his throat, a drop of sweat trailing down the hard line of his face.

Seeing Ann Vaughn trying to retreat, he cruelly curled his thin lips, stretched out his strong arm, and pulled her back, twisting her hands behind her with one hand.

This forced her to press closer to his chest, with no chance of escape.

Ann Vaughn let out a muffled groan, her delicate eyebrows not as tightly pursed as at the beginning, yet she still felt pain.

She pressed her red lips tightly together, saying nothing.

Cyrus’s thin lips slightly parted, releasing a low chuckle.

He lifted Ann Vaughn’s turned-away face; the temperature in the car was so scorching that even the breath was hot.

A moment of entanglement... the car door was slightly ajar for ventilation, with the air filled with lingering scents.

Exhausted, Ann Vaughn had curled up in the back seat and fallen asleep, covered by a pure black suit jacket, revealing only her exquisitely beautiful face with cheeks flushed like peaches, looking as though she’d been hurt.

Cyrus sat beside her, his long legs elegantly crossed, his handsome refined face full of satisfaction, with a crimson thin cigarette between his lips.

Not that he intended to smoke it, but perhaps to ease the underlying irritation within.

After a long while, the driver received instructions, returned to the car, and smelled the odd scent that made him too afraid to even show an expression, nervously driving off.

"To the hospital," Cyrus calmly instructed, raising his arm to press his slightly aching brow.

Ann Vaughn, curled up at one side, heard the voice and wearily opened her tired eyes halfway, asking, "Aren’t we going back to the manor?"

She remembered that Cynthia Vaughn was at the hospital now, so did Cyrus really need to take her there too?

"Didn’t you not want to go back?" Cyrus glanced at Ann Vaughn indifferently, a hint of barely perceptible mockery in his eyes.

Ann Vaughn hid her face under the jacket, eyes still slightly moist, "If I said I didn’t want to, would you consider my thoughts?"

Clearly not.

Not last night, nor today in the car.

The smile at the corner of Cyrus’s thin lips deepened, slightly chilly in its meaning, "You indeed have great self-awareness."

This sentence made Ann Vaughn’s heart sink a little, blocked by an unspoken suffocation; though her body was exhausted to the extreme, she didn’t feel like sleeping anymore.

The car stopped under the hospital building, and Ann Vaughn waited alone in the car for about an hour, yet Cyrus did not come down.

After almost ten more minutes, the driver received a call and then told Ann Vaughn, "Young Madam, the Young Master has something to deal with, I’ll take you back first."

Then he started the car and left the place.

Upon hearing this, Ann Vaughn’s eyes dimmed, and her red lips curved into a light, mocking smile.

It must have been that something unexpected happened to Cynthia Vaughn, so he’s staying to accompany her tonight.

She couldn’t describe the feeling, as if there was a ball of cotton blocking her chest, just uncomfortable and stuck.

Perhaps the most evident difference between her and Cynthia Vaughn is that the former is a replacement to be demanded at will, while the latter is the true love that must be touched cautiously.

In the private manor.

Consumed with worries the previous night, Ann Vaughn only awoke at noon the next day, her spirit not entirely restored.

However, the obvious changes in the dishes and medicinal meals on the dining table caught her attention.

The medicinal meals weren’t for nourishment; based on the smell, they seemed to be... for protecting the pregnancy?

"Miss Vaughn, here’s your medicine. Remember to take it after your meal." At this moment, Auntie Golding came out of the kitchen with a cup of hot water and a packet of medicine.

Ann Vaughn looked at the variously colored pills in the packet, confused as she stared at her, "What’s this?"

"This is pregnancy medicine, prescribed by the doctor for you."

Doctor?

Ann Vaughn blinked her eyes, completely befuddled.

She didn’t recall when she last saw a doctor, aside from the regular monthly prenatal checkups; she hardly saw any doctors.

The saying that a physician does not heal themselves was only applicable to her when it concerned the child.

"I saw a doctor visit the manor the night before last, they seemed to have looked at your condition and then left. All these were prepared under the gentleman’s instructions; he truly cares for you." Auntie Golding offered the compliments willingly.

The night before last...

The first things that entered her mind were some unhealthy hues, causing Ann Vaughn to gently rub her forehead, silently reprimanding herself.

Yet Auntie Golding’s words stirred ripple after ripple in her heart.

Her immediate reaction was not delight but disbelief.

She knew better than anyone how much Cyrus detested the child she carried; in his eyes, this child symbolized becoming a weakness, rational to the point of cruelty.

Even when he pushed her out that night to save Cynthia Vaughn, Ann Vaughn had once suspected he aimed to use someone else’s hand to cause the child’s demise.

But if he abhorred this child so much, why go through the futile effort of doing such things?

Truly unpredictable, his heart’s intentions difficult to gauge.

Ann Vaughn bit her lower lip and summarized with these eight words, choosing not to ponder over the deeper meaning behind Cyrus’s actions, continuing her meal.

At the same time.

In the Hawthorne Residence living room.

"Mom, why isn’t my brother at home? His own sister comes back from abroad and he doesn’t even show up to greet her; it’s really too much!" Bella Hawthorne, having been trapped by nightmares all night and sleep-deprived, walked into the living room with low spirits.

"Vivi, you’re awake. Your brother is busy with work. Besides, you didn’t inform the family about your return today, who can you blame?" Laura Quinn affectionately pulled Bella’s hand, her eyes full of love and tenderness, "You’ve lost so much weight, didn’t eat well abroad, did you?"

Bella rubbed her eyes, "I missed your cooking, Mom. Is brother at the office now? I’d like to ask him for a favor."

Laura then asked her what was so urgent, and though Bella didn’t want to worry the family, she knew she couldn’t avoid a bout of questioning if she intended to find the girl from last night, hence she hesitized but eventually recounted the previous night’s events.

Instantly, Laura’s face turned pale with shock.

She adored Bella, this younger daughter of hers. There had always been some alienation and unfamiliarity with Cyrus, having not raised him by her side since childhood. However, it was different with Bella.

This daughter had been raised dearly in her hands since she was young, naturally fostering a much deeper bond.