CHAPTER 123: CHAPTER 123: CYRUS HAWTHORNE, LET GO

"When did it become acceptable for outsiders to interfere in the matters between my wife and me?" Cyrus Hawthorne’s thin lips curled into a mocking smile, and the strength of his grip did not lessen. "If Lord Shane has the leisure, it might be better to manage your own affairs, lest you only realize regret when your territory catches fire."

Understanding the implication of his words, Sutton Jennings’ eyes turned cold. "It would be best if President Hawthorne doesn’t extend his reach too far."

"If you don’t let go, I won’t hesitate to test it out."

The two equally domineering men stood opposite each other, their auras clashing, neither yielding, making the spacious hospital room feel oppressive and intimidating, dissuading others from approaching them lightly.

Ann Vaughn regained some strength before opening her eyes, seeing Cyrus Hawthorne’s seemingly casual yet undeniably commanding hand resting on her shoulder, her delicate brows furrowed as she struggled with determination.

"Cyrus Hawthorne, let go."

Her soft, faint voice momentarily interrupted the heated confrontation between the two men. Hearing that her words were directed at Cyrus, Sutton Jennings’ tense expression relaxed slightly.

However, Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes suddenly darkened, much like an overturned inkwell as he locked his intense gaze on Ann Vaughn’s pale face, not blinking an instant.

"Ann Vaughn, do you even know what you’re saying?"

His voice was extremely low and cold, and Ann’s body shivered slightly, feeling his grip on her shoulder subtly slacken.

Yet just when she thought he was about to let go, he took a step back, seized her from Sutton’s arms while confronting Sutton, and pulled her into his embrace!

Ann had yet to process what had just transpired, and she found herself in Cyrus Hawthorne’s broad embrace, struggling to break free, but he held her firmly in his grasp.

"If this happens again." Cyrus cast a sidelong glance at Sutton Jennings’ cold expression, the threat in his voice deeply implicit and more intimidating than if left unsaid.

With that, he carried the struggling Ann Vaughn out of the hospital room in long strides.

Sutton Jennings took a step forward but then halted, staring at his empty hands, his usual expression unreadable.

No rush for now.

-

No matter how much Ann Vaughn struggled in resistance, Cyrus Hawthorne brought her back to his private estate and laid her on the soft bed in the room.

"Slap—"

The crisp sound of a slap suddenly rang out, immediately intensifying the already cold and oppressive atmosphere, making it even more terrifying.

Ann Vaughn’s hand remained frozen in mid-air, her lips pressed tightly together, with bewilderment gradually emerging in her clear eyes reflecting Cyrus Hawthorne’s indifferent face.

Her body hadn’t fully recovered, and her strength was laughably weak, making that slap far from forceful.

Yet, he clearly could have stopped her hand...

Ann Vaughn’s hand had no time to retreat when Cyrus seized her slender wrist, his deep, dark eyes revealing no emotion, coldly fixed on her.

"Have I indulged you so much that you can’t even remember who you are?"

His words were like icy shards, chilling Ann to the bone, instantly dispersing her momentary doubt.

Hearing his accusation, she laughed immediately, a laughter tinged with a sourness at the tip of her nose.

"Indulgence? Cyrus Hawthorne, ask yourself, when have you ever been even a bit indulgent with me?!" Ann Vaughn used her strength trying to shake off his hand, failing several times, and the grievance and resentment in her heart surged uncontrollably.

"Whenever Cynthia Vaughn got hurt, you stood by her side without hesitation to reproach me for every baseless, ridiculous accusation! I’ve had enough!"

"What do you plan to do with me next? Are you planning to take my child away and cut out my heart to give to Cynthia Vaughn so I no longer owe her anything?"

Having not had a drop of water since waking up, Ann Vaughn’s throat felt dry and hoarse to the extreme, her voice in some words blurred because she couldn’t muster the strength to speak clearly.

Yet the grievances and restraints accumulated over time would erupt when reaching a tipping point.

Just like Ann Vaughn’s moment now, filled not just with exhaustion but a profound sense of powerlessness and suffocation.

Cyrus Hawthorne’s throat tightened slightly, his gaze steeped in complex shadows landing on Ann Vaughn’s near-collapse face, remaining silent for a long time.

Soon thereafter, he released Ann Vaughn’s wrist, turning and leaving the room but not long before he returned again.

He threw a bunch of documents onto Ann Vaughn, a cold, mocking smile tugging at his thin lips.

"Baseless accusations? Ann Vaughn, you were the one who spent the night out at [Charm] three years ago, and the scandal was admitted by you too. What, do you want to claim now that it wasn’t you?"

"Had you not been at the estate then, there wouldn’t have been the incident of thugs kidnapping Cynthia as a hostage. Can you say this wasn’t your doing?"

Ann Vaughn’s arm hurt from the pile of documents hitting it, her face went pale hearing his accusation, thereafter opening those documents.

She saw the video analysis and supporting testimony from former employees of Charm bar, all indicating her involvement in the incident.

Evidence wasn’t even necessary; back then, she took the blame pro bono, leaving her with no way to retaliate.

Compared to these detailed, specific pieces of evidence, the truth she knew but couldn’t prove stood no chance.

"Even if I tell you I went to the bar that day for Susie Sommers, you wouldn’t believe me." Ann Vaughn’s gaze drifted off as she released the stack of documents, letting them scatter across the bed.

She looked up, meeting Cyrus Hawthorne’s cold, dismissive eyes, suddenly understanding the answer.

Ann Vaughn closed her eyes heavily, reopening them with a new strength and resolve, "Cyrus Hawthorne, let’s divorce."

Hearing her, a glimpse of hostility flashed in Cyrus’ eyes, instantly enveloping him in a chilling aura.

"I’m willing to leave with nothing, as long as I get custody of this child in the future." Ann Vaughn’s voice was as calm as water, her face appearing extremely serene, with only the fingers on the bed sheets gradually clenching, "Release me, as well as yourself."

"In your eyes, I may owe Cynthia Vaughn something, but even if I do owe her this time, the blood transfusion should have settled it. Beyond that, I want to owe her nothing more."

Ignoring the intense, sharp pain rising in her heart, Ann Vaughn pulled a perfect smile at the corner of her lips.

She liked Cyrus Hawthorne.

For fifteen years, whenever she thought about the time they had despised, it filled her with immense joy.

Yet she never realized before that pain could actually engulf happiness.

"Ha," Cyrus Hawthorne mused over Ann’s calm face for a moment before letting out a cold chuckle, a barely perceptible fury within his eyes, "If you look down on Mrs. Hawthorne’s position so much, then be off to the servants’ quarters and become a servant of the Hawthorne family."

"You want to divorce and live with that wild man? I’m telling you, only over my dead body."

"Take your things and get out now!"