CHAPTER 22: CHAPTER 22: THE MISTRESS AT HER PATRON’S MERCY

"Miss Vaughn, I was sent by Mr. Hawthorne to take care of your daily needs. My surname is Golding, and you can call me Auntie Golding." Auntie Golding appeared somewhat strict, her words sounding more like an order.

Ann Vaughn furrowed her delicate brows, her smile was slow and somewhat sardonic.

Take care? More like surveil her every move, to put it more bluntly.

"I’ve already prepared dinner. Would you like to eat now?" Auntie Golding asked.

Ann Vaughn nodded, but when she arrived at the dining room and saw the table full of heart-nourishing medicinal dishes, the mingling aroma of medicine and food was not pleasant.

"Auntie Golding, can I eat something different tomorrow? I don’t really like medicinal dishes, and my health is quite good, I don’t need any supplements." Ann Vaughn negotiated while looking at the dishes with Auntie Golding.

"That won’t do, Miss Vaughn," Auntie Golding frowned with difficulty, "All your meals are prepared according to Mr. Hawthorne’s instructions, they are good for your health. And it’s also a little gesture of Mr. Hawthorne’s care for you."

Despite saying this, a glimpse of disdain and belittlement flashed in Auntie Golding’s eyes.

Ann Vaughn pressed her lips together, suddenly losing her appetite, and returned to her room.

She couldn’t understand what Cyrus was thinking, keeping her restrained here, refusing to agree to a divorce. Was her life so cheap compared to Cynthia Vaughn’s?

Did it have to be just her living heart?

Ann Vaughn leaned against the door panel, couldn’t help but laugh, but tears began to fall from her eyes.

Behind her, she didn’t see Auntie Golding spit angrily at her departing figure, "Just a mistress at the beck and call of a wealthy patron, lucky to have food. Still thinks she’s some kind of wealthy young lady?"

Back in her room, Ann Vaughn looked at the medicine package in her hand with a sigh.

Now that Auntie Golding was here, there was absolutely no way she could boil medicine and take it without Auntie Golding noticing anything that might inform Cyrus Hawthorne...

The child wouldn’t survive.

Her body had been harmed by contraceptive drugs, but fortunately, she wasn’t without options. As long as she adjusted for a few days, cleared out the residual drugs, she could nourish her womb and benefit the child.

Looking at her still very flat stomach, Ann Vaughn’s gaze softened bit by bit. She would definitely protect this child; it was just hers alone.

-

A few days later, patients who had been diagnosed and prescribed by Ann Vaughn spread the word; each day the small clinic welcomed guests. Not too many, but enough to keep Ann Vaughn busy.

Days passed smoothly and calmly.

That day, after sending off the last guest, Ann Vaughn had just finished drinking her medicine, trying to settle the bitter taste with a piece of freshly made jujube cake, when a scorching gaze made her look up.

She saw a boy sitting in a wheelchair, neat and clean in appearance, dressed very fresh and elegantly, looking unlike an ordinary family.

But his figure was extremely thin, his exposed wrists and ankles were skin and bones as if he hadn’t had enough to eat for a long time to be so thin.

Ann Vaughn licked her bitter tooth, swallowed, then picked up the plate of jujube cakes and walked towards him.

"Little guy, are you hungry? This jujube cake is for you, it’s very tasty." Ann Vaughn handed the cake to the boy, lightly chuckling and rubbing his head, not minding his silence.

Then she turned around and closed the clinic door, rushing toward Aurelia.

The boy looked at the rich-scented jujube cake in his hand, hesitated for a moment, but couldn’t resist taking a bite.

Immediately, a hint of brightness appeared in his previously dim eyes.

Well then... wait a little longer before ending it all.

Ann Vaughn arrived at Aurelia two minutes late; the manager, who usually demanded punctuality, surprisingly said nothing, only asking her to perform in "The Plum Pavilion" tonight, ending her shift earlier than scheduled.

The Plum Pavilion was quite elegant, the room surprisingly wafted with plum blossom fragrance not typical for this season - they truly put effort into it.

Ann Vaughn sat behind the bamboo curtain, lowered her eyes to play the zither, not noticing when someone entered The Plum Pavilion, prompting the previously seated drinking elite to stand up in greeting.