CHAPTER 91: CHAPTER 91: YOU’RE PREGNANT?!

"Let go..."

After the difficult utterance of a single word, Ann Vaughn could no longer speak. The large hand squeezing her neck tightened continuously, and she felt the oxygen in her lungs becoming increasingly scarce.

Like a fish out of water, always at risk of perishing.

A tear slid down the corner of Ann Vaughn’s eye. She wanted to push away Cyrus Hawthorne’s hands but they hung limply, her ever-paler face nearing a deathly white.

So, he really wanted her to die.

That warm droplet hit the back of Cyrus Hawthorne’s hand, causing him a moment of distraction. The murderous intent in his eyes diminished slightly, and he slowly loosened his grip on Ann Vaughn’s neck.

"Cough, cough—" Ann Vaughn coughed violently, desperate to draw in fresh air against the damp wall.

Her throat and lungs felt burning, painfully.

She almost thought she was about to die here today.

"Filthy." Cyrus Hawthorne looked down coldly at Ann Vaughn’s disheveled state, an uncontrollable fury spreading around him like a wildfire.

This woman, filthy enough to disgust him.

Upon hearing this, Ann Vaughn’s delicate shoulders shivered, and she bit her lip tightly.

The next instant, she lifted her pale face, disregarding the cold water soaking her from above.

"I’m filthy?" Ann Vaughn’s voice choked slightly, forcing herself to calm down, then she raised her hands and started taking off her clothes one by one.

Until she was completely unclothed, Ann Vaughn stubbornly suppressed the humiliation that spread from her toes throughout her body, her reddened eyes staring directly at Cyrus Hawthorne.

"I, Ann Vaughn, walk straight and sit upright. I admit to everything I’ve done. If I haven’t done it, not even you can slander me."

"Cyrus Hawthorne, you find me filthy, wanting me to keep pure for the Hawthorne Family’s reputation, to remain chaste, and I did that. But what about you?"

Had you ever, even for a second, considered me your wife, even if only in name, granted me a shred of dignity and respect?

Ann Vaughn’s voice was soft, blending with the sound of the water, almost inaudible.

Under the water, her delicate body was white and clean, without a trace of wrongdoing.

She didn’t like blaming others, usually searching for her shortcomings, thinking they’re because of her inadequacy.

Even when humiliated with filthy words moments ago, it hadn’t made her feel as ashamed and unable to bear as Cyrus Hawthorne’s disgust did now.

But now, she could only prove her innocence this way.

Sharp, needle-like pain spread through her heart, almost unable to distinguish between water and another fluid on her face.

Because there wasn’t even a shred of trust in his eyes.

The enticing and picturesque view before him barely stirred a ripple in Cyrus Hawthorne’s gaze, his face impassive but the choked resentment in his chest dissipated slightly.

Even so, Cyrus Hawthorne sneered, "I couldn’t stoop to such lowly acts myself, you’d best remember well, you don’t even have the capital to anger me."

With those words, he did not spare Ann Vaughn another glance and left the bathroom with a steely face.

Ann Vaughn closed her eyes tightly, reached out to turn off the showerhead, her body lacking strength, yet forcing herself in high spirits to dry off and change into clean clothes.

The showerhead’s temperature alternates automatically, alternating between hot and cold, making her feel slightly dizzy.

Luckily, the child wasn’t harmed.

Ann Vaughn looked at her still-flat abdomen with sour eyes, her body helplessly squatting down on the cold floor, her eyes filled with confusion and helplessness.

Outside the room, Cyrus Hawthorne absentmindedly flicked a lit cigarette between his fingers, smoke swirling, blurring his slightly complex and hard-to-read eyes, making it difficult to decipher.

Not until the cigarette burned out did he furrow his eyebrows in slight annoyance as he left the guest room.

Even he couldn’t explain the perplexity within himself.

Even this time, he indeed misunderstood her.

Just stepping out of the guest room, he saw Auntie Golding exiting the master bedroom, holding a few thin papers in her hands, muttering aloud, "That woman is actually pregnant, couldn’t tell at all... Ah!"

Before Auntie Golding finished her words, the papers in her hands were snatched away. She thought it was Ann Vaughn and felt a bit guilty, only to find it was Cyrus Hawthorne, and immediately plastered a smile.

"So it’s Mr. Hawthorne."

Cyrus Hawthorne ignored her, casually flipping through the prenatal examination papers with his fingers.

The next second, his previously somewhat relaxed handsome face instantly became as icy and stern as a frozen lake.

"Prenatal examination papers, where did they come from?"

The name on them was erased, only the test results could be seen.

Auntie Golding took a few fearful steps back, no longer arrogant in front of Ann Vaughn, stammering, "Found in Miss Vaughn’s room, and, and there are a few bottles of folic acid too, I just learned Miss Vaughn is pregnant..."

How could she know that the mistress had kept it so tight, probably dreaming of giving birth to the child and ruling the roost.

"Your services are no longer needed here." Cyrus Hawthorne’s voice was icy as he finished speaking, turning back to the guest room.

The door slammed shut loudly.

By then, Ann Vaughn had already tidied up and was using the guest room’s hairdryer to carefully dry her hair.

Since her back was towards the door, she didn’t see Cyrus Hawthorne’s frighteningly cold expression firsthand.

When she turned around, a few sheets of paper were flung towards her.

Clearly very light paper, yet with such force behind the throw, they slashed Ann Vaughn’s forehead, causing a stinging pain.

Ann Vaughn put down her half-wet long hair, making her delicate small face appear even more exquisite and lovely, her figure slender and fragile like a porcelain doll that could shatter with a touch.

She looked at Cyrus Hawthorne’s furious face with frightened eyes, involuntarily taking half a step back.

Before she could speak, Cyrus Hawthorne’s deep, icy voice crashed down like a clap of thunder, a deathly judgment: "You’re pregnant?!"

Like a sudden clap of thunder in a clear sky, it struck Ann Vaughn’s deeply guarded heart.

Her face suddenly turned pale as paper, her bright eyes incredulous as she looked at the man before her, her mind a muddle.

How did he know?

She had concealed it so well; how did he still find out?!

What could she do to cover it up?

Tens of strategies quickly flashed through Ann Vaughn’s mind, but unfortunately, Cyrus Hawthorne had no patience for her to figure it out, his handsome face growing colder and angrier with her silence.

They had only been together that one night, but there was no way she could have gotten pregnant with his child from that night alone.

With that, only one possibility remained, the child was not his.

This thought arose, and the fury and rage in Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes seemed to drown Ann Vaughn.

His gaze slowly dropped to her abdomen, his lips suddenly curling into a cruel smile.