CHAPTER 122: CHAPTER 122: SORRY, I WAS LATE

If Ann Vaughn didn’t know the truth, didn’t know that the hostage exchange at The Peren River that night was inextricably linked to Cynthia Vaughn,

Perhaps she would really think that she was the one who caused Cynthia Vaughn’s situation, and that she was the culprit.

Ann Vaughn took a deep breath, her shoulders held down by Cyrus Hawthorne’s men, unable to move, and she felt the same sorrow as that night at The Peren River.

The way she was pushed out was not much different.

"You should investigate the scandal in the circles of Imperial Capital High School three years ago to understand why Cynthia Vaughn was kidnapped by those people. They could have directly kidnapped me. Why did they go through so much trouble to use Cynthia Vaughn to exchange for me, even at the risk of offending you?"

Ann Vaughn forced herself to calm down, but her voice had a slight tremor, "I really had nothing to do with the photo scandal three years ago. If you don’t believe me, you can investigate!"

Those people are already dead; it has been over three years, and she can’t find evidence.

Only Cynthia Vaughn and her parents, who kneeled down and begged Ann to step forth for Cynthia to assume the scandal, know the truth.

But they would never harm their most cherished daughter for an insignificant one.

Moreover, with Cyrus Hawthorne’s power, there’s nothing he can’t find out if he wishes to.

But Ann dared not think whether he really couldn’t find out, or simply didn’t want to investigate because the victim wasn’t Cynthia Vaughn, so it didn’t matter.

Cyrus didn’t look at her, his angular jaw tightened, and his hand hanging by his side slightly clenched.

"Take her in."

The four words fell as cold as water, causing Ann’s pupils to swiftly constrict. She tried to struggle, wanting to escape this place.

However, she was no match for the two bodyguards, not even given a chance to say another word, as they forcibly took her inside that door.

The door to the operating room closed once again.

Cyrus stood by the window, and for some reason, his previously cold and upright figure was now tinged with a trace of loneliness, his hand by his side clenched into a fist.

Even though he tried hard to ignore the bizarre emotions spreading through his chest, it only grew stronger over time.

A feeling he had never experienced before.

Strange, palpitating, mixed with an intense sense of losing control, as if something was quietly slipping away from his fingertips.

Cyrus slowly closed his deep narrow eyes, his lips curling into a mocking arc.

He and Ann were physically compatible, but other than that,

Nothing more.

An hour and a half later, the surgery was successful, and Cynthia was moved into the ICU, with renowned doctors from First Hospital filing into her room.

Compared to this side, where everyone gathered around her like stars, Ann, forgotten in another room, seemed lonely and unattended.

She was already fair-skinned, and after the blood transfusion, her skin appeared almost translucently sickly, her little face devoid of any color, as fragile as a porcelain doll that could break at a touch.

Her brain throbbed, and her body felt as heavy as a thousand weights, causing Ann to feel uncomfortable even in her coma.

She walked in a pitch-black fog where she couldn’t see any light, not even herself, and the road seemed endlessly long.

Until a baby’s faint apparition appeared in front of Ann’s eyes, brightening the surroundings.

The baby seemed to be smiling at Ann, and she couldn’t help but smile and walk toward the baby.

But every time she got close, the baby moved further away, and even when she ran, she couldn’t catch up.

Eventually, it disappeared at the end of the black mist.

Ann stared blankly in that direction, feeling a dense, needle-like pain in her heart, as if cold wind seeped in, unable to drive away the chill from her body.

So cold.

"Cold..." Ann murmured a weak voice, feeling something covering her in her sleep, her cold fingers gently held.

The warmth passed on to her, yet it could not reach her heart.

Ann felt something brush across her eyebrows, eyes, and lips, finally stopping on her abdomen.

Subconsciously, she felt danger and wanted to struggle but couldn’t even open her eyes.

By the time she was fully awake, it was already the third morning.

The sunlight outside was bright, the room silent, with hot soup and porridge on the table still steaming.

Ann glanced around, her slender fingers touched her lips, which were surprisingly moist, and then she suddenly remembered something, placing her hand on her wrist to check her pulse.

If she hadn’t taken the prenatal medicine every week according to the remnants of her grandfather’s medical books, this child might have not survived long ago.

Ann’s unfocused eyes gradually regained some color.

She turned her head toward the pork liver porridge and hot soup on the table, her bloodless lips curving into a mocking smile.

Should she praise Cyrus for not wiping her out completely, even offering her a bowl of porridge?

She raised her hand and, without hesitation, threw the porridge and soup into the trash can, her eyes devoid of any emotion.

At this moment, the ward door suddenly opened, Ann looked up to see Sutton Jennings in black, and was stunned for two seconds.

"Brother Shane? What are you doing here?"

Sutton approached her with a frown, gripping her arm still attached to the IV, his voice heavy, "Sorry, I’m late."

"It’s all right now." Ann pulled her hand back from his grip, subtly hiding it under the covers, revealing a flawless smile, "You worried."

"Being forced to have a blood transfusion while pregnant is okay?" Sutton’s almond-shaped eyes were cold, looking somewhat harsh, his usually emotionless face showing some concern.

Just then, a nurse came in to check the IV, her gaze lingering on Sutton for a few rounds before she slowly removed the needle from Ann’s hand.

She originally intended to chat, but a glance from Sutton made her instantly quiet, hastily taking her things and leaving.

"Good thing the child is fine, or I’d probably go insane." Ann shrugged, a faint smile blooming on her pale-as-paper face, as if joking.

Sutton felt a slight tightness in his chest, then bent down, lifting her from the bed in a cradle carry, speaking softly, "Since you call me brother, I won’t stand idly by. I’m taking you away."

Under usual circumstances, Ann would have refused his kindness to avoid implicating him.

But now, even talking felt tiring, so she said nothing.

Besides, she didn’t want to stay here and continue being someone else’s blood source.

"Put her down." A chilling voice abruptly came from the doorway, followed by Cyrus stepping in, one hand gripping Ann’s shoulder, his narrow eyes glaring at Sutton.

"I said before, what President Hawthorne doesn’t cherish is precious to someone else, but I didn’t expect President Hawthorne would astonish me, even willing to harm his pregnant wife." Sutton met him without fear, mockingly retorted.