CHAPTER 85: CHAPTER 85: MADLY IN LOVE WITH THIS WOMAN

Ann Vaughn’s gaze dimmed slightly for a moment, then it quickly dispersed. She opened the car door and sat in the back seat, thanking him, "Thank you for the trouble."

The car slowly hit the road, heading in a direction unfamiliar to Ann Vaughn.

Although her heart was curious about where Cyrus had asked Mark Joyce to take her, she didn’t ask and sat quietly.

It wasn’t until Mark drove the car into the underground parking lot of Hawthorne Corp. that Ann Vaughn asked somewhat dazedly, "Special Assistant Joyce, this is...?"

"President Hawthorne asked me to bring you up, please." Mark, without saying much, opened the car door for Ann Vaughn and gestured for her to follow.

This was Ann Vaughn’s first time setting foot in the Hawthorne Group, and she felt an inexplicable peculiarity in her heart.

Mark led her from the private elevator in the underground parking lot straight to the top floor’s president’s office.

What met Ann Vaughn’s eyes was a spotlessly clean office, with a sharp and cold style.

This familiar style belonged solely to Cyrus Hawthorne.

"Miss Vaughn, you can read some books here first. President Hawthorne is in a meeting, which will end in about half an hour." Mark arranged things properly for Ann Vaughn, and had someone send in drinks and snacks before leaving the office.

Ann Vaughn glanced at the pile of anatomical diagrams and medical books on the desk, and a hint of a smile crossed her eyes.

She withdrew her gaze and looked around at the office’s furnishings and design, walking from the three-dimensional file cabinet to the desk facing the large glass floor-to-ceiling window.

It was as if she could imagine him concentrating on his work here every day.

Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but smile, but her eyes dimmed again when she saw a photo frame placed on the desk.

She remembered that, in the Hawthorne family’s study, there were also such exquisite photo frames.

Everyone in the photos was Cynthia Vaughn.

It is said that placing a woman’s photo frame in one’s most important private space means he is deeply in love with this woman.

Cyrus Hawthorne really liked Cynthia Vaughn.

Ann Vaughn lifted the corners of her lips, trying to smile, but her eyes slowly drooped.

An indescribable feeling filled her chest, a sourness that was a bit overwhelming, accompanied by a slight pain.

She couldn’t help but think, if it weren’t for this absurd arranged marriage, she might never have known the person she had waited for fifteen years nearly became her brother-in-law.

As she was thinking, the office door suddenly opened.

Dressed in a pure black tailored suit, the tall and upright Cyrus Hawthorne stepped inside. His gaze paused slightly when he saw Ann Vaughn standing behind his desk.

"I still have work to handle. If you’re bored, you can read some books here."

He said indifferently, casually unbuttoning two buttons of his suit, and sat down at the desk to continue working.

"Okay." Ann Vaughn daintily moved back to the front of the sofa, not disturbing his work.

Ann Vaughn casually flipped through the medical books on the desk and found that they were books she hadn’t read before, some were ancient foreign texts, and she was immediately intrigued, opening them to read.

These books are almost impossible to find now, rare collectible editions, which made Ann Vaughn’s eyes light up.

The only sound left in the vast office was the slight noise of pages turning.

When she finally finished the ancient text, Ann Vaughn carefully put it back in the distance and relaxed her somewhat stiff neck.

Turning her head, she saw Cyrus Hawthorne’s focused, cold face bathed in the morning light streaming through the glass window, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit dazed.

A warm feeling inexplicably spread through her heart.

Just watching like this, she already felt satisfied.

At noon, Mark walked into the office and, after reporting work matters, said, "President Hawthorne, everything has been arranged, are you leaving now?"

"Hmm, push the afternoon’s schedule to tomorrow. Let Ethan handle the meeting between the two countries later, and send the contract and summary to my email once it’s over..."

Cyrus Hawthorne gave his instructions in a low voice, pushed a pen away, stood up, and picked up his coat.

Mark’s eyes were surprised, but he responded respectfully, "I understand, rest assured."

The distance between the sofa and the desk was quite far. Ann Vaughn, lost in thought, didn’t hear what they were talking about.

When she regained her senses, she saw Cyrus Hawthorne’s tall and imposing figure standing before her, clearly clothed in such a conventional, cold black suit.

Yet he wore it with a distinct elegance that made it impossible to look away.

Especially since every shirt button was meticulously fastened, adding a bit of an ascetic appeal to him.

"Let’s go." Cyrus Hawthorne spoke concisely, leaving this word as he first stepped into the elevator.

Ann Vaughn, filled with confusion, followed along.

-

Meanwhile, at the Hawthorne family villa.

Laura Quinn had just learned from Mark that Cyrus Hawthorne had postponed the important meeting between the two countries today to accompany that woman, Ann Vaughn, and she couldn’t sit still.

She could never accept such a woman being her daughter-in-law for long.

But no matter how Laura viewed it, she felt something unusual about Cyrus’s actions and couldn’t figure out what kind of spell Ann Vaughn had cast on him, as he still hadn’t divorced her!

No, she absolutely could not let this go unchecked!

Laura’s face darkened as she made a phone call to Cynthia Vaughn, who was still in the hospital, and it was soon connected.

"Cynthia, you must put in more effort. Aunt has always hoped for you to be our daughter-in-law of the Hawthorne family; you can’t let Cyrus be charmed away by those unscrupulous women..."

-

The driver parked the car in front of a countryside resort.

Cyrus Hawthorne had the resort’s supreme black card, granting him priority access to everything inside.

As he hadn’t explained why he brought her here, Ann Vaughn didn’t ask. After all, he wouldn’t sell her, at least.

After having lunch, Cyrus Hawthorne looked at the perplexed Ann Vaughn with a guidebook in hand and softly asked, "Which one would you like to try first?"

"Actually, I’m not really good at any of these." Ann Vaughn looked at the list of activities that were everyday pastimes for rich kids, pursing her lips with a light smile, "It’s my first time in a place like this."

Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes moved slightly, but he soon returned to his original state.

He picked up a napkin, wiped his fingers clean, and stood up, "Then let’s try something simple."

But as Ann Vaughn looked at the row of sleek black firearms and the targets that moved or were stationary ahead, her bright eyes were filled with curiosity.

"These guns look so realistic."

"All the guns in front of you are real guns." Cyrus Hawthorne said in a calm voice, handed a relatively small gun to Ann Vaughn, "Take it."

Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but swallow nervously, carefully accepting the gun he handed over, a fear that every novice has of the gun accidentally going off creeping into her heart.

"Try shooting at the target in front of you." Cyrus Hawthorne saw that she couldn’t even hold the gun properly, frowned slightly, stepped forward, and took her hand from behind, teaching her how to hold the gun.

The warm temperature of his chest suddenly pressed against her back, and Ann Vaughn’s body instinctively stiffened, an uncontrollable blush rising on her cheeks.

So close.

Close enough that her breath was filled with the pleasant light scent of mint from him, almost making her lose focus.

Bang—

A gunshot rang out, and the bullet hit the bullseye.