CHAPTER 892: CHAPTER 892: SHE LOVES YOU THE MOST

At the same time.

In the presidential suite of the Central City International Hotel.

As the elevator doors opened, Cyrus Hawthorne walked in, carrying a round little dumpling with one hand. He placed him on the soft seat and then took off his bear headgear.

Revealing a tiny, exquisitely carved face inside.

The little dumpling kicked his short legs in displeasure, "What are you doing? I almost had Mom with me."

If not for Cyrus Hawthorne’s men taking him away, he would have followed Mom closely.

"I haven’t seen Mommy for a month, twelve hours, and eight minutes!" The little dumpling pouted, growing more and more upset as he spoke.

"Go change your clothes." Cyrus Hawthorne glanced at him, ordering without room for negotiation.

The little dumpling reluctantly jumped down from the seat, ran into the room, and soon came back out in more casual clothes.

He pitter-pattered over, hugging Cyrus Hawthorne’s leg, whining in a baby voice, "Daddy, don’t you miss Mommy? Mommy must miss us so much."

Doesn’t he?

Cyrus Hawthorne narrowed his eyes slightly, gently ruffling Kenny’s little head.

The more one misses, the more it’s like poison invading one’s organs, etching into the bones.

All one can do is suppress it, as there is no cure.

Soon, Sept returned from gathering information, his face heavy with concern.

"Sir, young master, things are bad. According to our informant, Miss Vaughn lost her memory after waking up a week ago," Sept revealed in shock. "Later, Miss Vaughn heard about you and the young master from Miss Kressiel, and the shock was too much, causing her to faint."

"According to the informant, Miss Vaughn was harmed by the puppetry technique, which severely traumatized her mentally, leading to amnesia. But if she’s stimulated too many times, Miss Vaughn may...never wake up again."

Upon hearing this, Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression slightly tensed, and a storm rose in his dark narrow eyes, filled with an icy chill.

When he met Ann Vaughn’s eyes, devoid of surprise and warmth, Cyrus faintly sensed something amiss.

Her gaze was too unfamiliar, like looking at a stranger.

It turned out, it wasn’t a coincidence.

"Daddy," Kenny clutched Cyrus’s hand tightly, tears welling in his big beautiful eyes, "Does Mommy not remember Kenny or Daddy?"

The little dumpling couldn’t believe it was true and sought confirmation from his closest person.

Cyrus nodded heavily, restraining the coldness emanating from him, and comforted Kenny by patting his little head, "This is only temporary. Your mommy won’t forget Kenny forever. She loves you the most."

When Ann Vaughn disappeared, Kenny remembered her saying boys must be strong and shouldn’t cry even when sad.

When Ann Vaughn was injured, Kenny didn’t cry.

When Ann Vaughn’s fate was unknown, and there was no news about her, Kenny held back his tears despite his anxiety.

But upon hearing Cyrus say "She loves you the most," Kenny suddenly couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Mommy loves Daddy the most too." Tears rolled down Kenny’s white, tender cheeks as he spoke, wiping them away, "Mommy said the people she loves most in this world are Daddy and Kenny, and then herself."

"Kenny misses Mommy."

The little dumpling buried his face in Cyrus’s chest, letting out all his grievances over the past days.

Cyrus picked him up, gently patting his back, letting him cry out all his grievances.

Perhaps it’s because he matured early and became steady; Kenny always cared for Ann Vaughn like she was the baby, forgetting that he was the one who needed care.

...

Upon returning to The Royal City, Ann Vaughn went into the bathroom and took out everything from her pockets.

The photos given by Miss Kressiel and...a small card.

Ann Vaughn looked at it for a while, memorized the contents, and then opened the other small card.

She didn’t know who put it in her pocket. Perhaps with so many people at the celebration, someone accidentally put it in the wrong pocket.

The card bore a comic drawing of an adorably clumsy little white bear, wielding a sword in its right paw and a shield in its left, fighting a ferocious dragon.

The princess was in a high tower, and only by defeating the dragon could she be rescued.

Below, a line was circled with a heart.

[Mommy, don’t be scared. Kenny will rescue Mommy soon!]

Kenny?

Ann Vaughn’s eyes flickered as she recalled Miss Kressiel’s words from that day.

Her man and son, Cyrus Hawthorne and Kenny...

But whenever she tried to recall anything, a sharp pain shot through her head, draining the color from her once rosy cheeks.

Ann Vaughn could only refrain from thinking about it and divert her attention, gradually reducing the pain.

"What exactly is going on..." Ann Vaughn pressed her temples hard, a senseless agitation welling from within her.

Every time those two names came to mind, it felt as if an invisible hand was severing her body and soul, the sensation of being torn apart was truly unbearable.

What exactly has she forgotten?

Between Warren Vance and Miss Kressiel, who was telling the truth?

After a long while, Ann Vaughn pursed her lips, raising her gaze to look at her pale face in the mirror’s reflection.

What is true or false, if she doesn’t verify, how would she know?

...

The Queen’s Day of Mourning arrived as scheduled.

Though the day of mourning closely followed the celebration, unless the celebration ended, preparations for the day of mourning could not begin in advance.

Because the Queen’s Day of Mourning was established by The Old King Lionel Vance after ascending to the throne, to commemorate Queen Manfrieda, not a traditional Gothasen festival.

Right after the celebration, the entire Gothasen fell into a frenzy of activity.

At five in the morning, The Royal City’s busiest hour, as after six, visitors from various regions would arrive in The Royal City to attend the mourning ceremony.

Ordinarily at this hour, Ann Vaughn would be asleep, but just after five, Betty and a group of maids entered the room to doll her up.

Ann Vaughn had to endure fatigue as they prepared her, planning to nap afterward.

But her dream of sleep was short-lived as she was summoned to the reception room to meet distinguished guests together with Warren Vance.

"Why must I come too? I’m not married to you, am I?" Ann Vaughn maintained a smile while whispering to Warren Vance beside her.

If she’d known it would be such a gathering, Ann Vaughn would never have shown up, no matter what.

Being regarded as Warren Vance’s wife by these people left Ann Vaughn feeling uncomfortable.

But she couldn’t leave now.

Beside her, Warren Vance was dressed in an exquisite white uniform, looking extremely regal. His every move was even more meticulously refined than the nobles coming and going, elegance to its peak.

Everyone else was clad in black, while he alone wore white, making him exceptionally eye-catching.