The words sounded cruel, but they were the truth, through and through. After climbing the stairs for so long, Ann Vaughn was already sweating on her forehead, her cheeks were burning hot. But Mark Joyce’s words felt like a bucket of cold water poured over her, not just on her body, but her heart as well, becoming completely chilled. Ann Vaughn bit her lip tightly and after a while said, "This was my choice, I don’t need his pity." Since she chose to do this, aside from figuring out what situation Cyrus Hawthorne would face in the upcoming days, the rest wasn’t hers to worry about. Mark Joyce realized he’d sighed as much these days as he had in a lifetime. "President Hawthorne does not want to see you; approaching him would only annoy him. Why do you bother?" "Special Assistant Joyce, just tell me why Cyrus Hawthorne got into trouble, and what your plan is to solve it, and I’ll leave right away, without looking back." "... Please take care of yourself." Mark Joyce was regretting it now. The source of this content ɪs novｅlfire.net If he had known things would turn out , he would never have answered Ann’s questions last night. Finally, after Ann climbed up to the sixteenth floor, before she even had a moment to catch her breath, Cyrus Hawthorne’s figure disappeared into the elevator. Ann Vaughn glanced back at the stair entrance and then at the closed elevator doors, standing confusedly in place. When she came to her senses, she moved to wait in front of another elevator, her lowered eyes faintly red. Even knowing this was her choice, she felt unqualified to be aggrieved. But Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but feel downcast for a while before she perked up. By the time she walked out of the office building, her legs almost no longer felt like hers. Cyrus Hawthorne’s car had already driven away; Ann Vaughn had to hail a taxi herself on the roadside and report the address of the villa halfway up the hill. As she expected, the black Maybach was parked in front of the gate, not yet driven inside. "Phew." Ann Vaughn laboriously approached the car, her breath caught when she looked up. Standing before Cyrus, low-voiced and seemingly discussing important matters, was none other than Miyi Yates. Miyi Yates was surprised to see Ann Vaughn at first, but then smiled and greeted her, "Miss Vaughn, I didn’t expect you to be back, it’s been ages." Upon hearing this, a hint of mockery flashed in Ann Vaughn’s eyes. The person who least wanted her to come back might definitely be Miyi Yates. She didn’t respond to Miyi Yates’ words, her gaze turned towards Cyrus Hawthorne, only to hear him say solemnly. Ann Vaughn’s heart contracted. "You and Miss Vaughn can go ahead and talk, I don’t mind," Miyi Yates said considerately. Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression was indifferent, never once did his gaze fall on Ann Vaughn, "Just an irrelevant woman, no need to pay attention." It seemed like he was explaining to Miyi Yates. Or perhaps warning Ann Vaughn to recognize her place. The words were double-edged, making Ann Vaughn’s already pale face almost translucent, starkly contrasting with Miyi Yates’ subtly smiling face, which was brimming with delight and pride. "Miss Vaughn, I’m sorry, but your matter may need to be postponed for a bit," Miyi Yates said apologetically. Looking at Miyi Yates’ fake politeness, Ann Vaughn felt nauseated, her stomach churning uncomfortably. But what she couldn’t accept most was Cyrus Hawthorne’s cold and mocking eyes, each additional second they lingered on her felt like being cut by a knife. See, their identities seemed to have swapped. In the past, when she and Miyi Yates were at odds, Cyrus would always side with her. But now Miyi Yates became the woman he protected, while she turned into a laughingstock. Ann Vaughn tried to pull her lips into a smile, but couldn’t muster even a trace of it; she turned away, determinedly leaving without hesitation. "Family Head, shall we go in now?" Miyi Yates looked up, her gaze fixed on the cold and noble man before her, as soft as water. Her words had just finished when Mark Joyce, sitting in the car, suddenly exclaimed, "President Hawthorne, it looks like Miss Vaughn has fainted!" Not far away, Ann Vaughn hadn’t reached her car yet, her slender form swayed twice and unexpectedly collapsed to the ground. Seeing this, Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression changed abruptly, the calmness and indifference in his narrowed eyes cracked bit by bit until completely shattering! He swiftly strode towards Ann Vaughn and carried her horizontally, his arms wrapped tightly around her seem to tremble slightly, and his jawline was tense, his cold expression replaced by anxiety. "Family Head, I—" Miyi Yates stepped forward for a moment wanting to say something, but Cyrus Hawthorne directly passed her by, as if his eyes could no longer accommodate anyone other than Ann Vaughn, not stopping even for a moment. At this moment, Miyi Yates saw Ann Vaughn, whom he held in his arms, move her lips a few times. "Invincibility is so lonely." Understanding her lip movements, Miyi Yates’ gaze cooled, her fingers almost tore the fabric of her dress. In the master bedroom. "Mr. Hawthorne, Miss Vaughn fainted due to overexertion, the injuries on her knee and ankle aggravated into a brief coma, she’ll wake up naturally once she recovers." The family doctor took an ointment from the medical kit, which was immediately taken by a large well-defined hand. The man knelt on one knee in front of the unconscious Ann Vaughn, gently cleaning the dust off her wound with a cotton swab dipped in antiseptic, exposing the glaringly red and swollen injury. Her skin was translucently white and icy, making the severity of the injury even more terrifyingly prominent, enough to stir compassion. Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression remained calm as he evenly applied the ointment onto her wound, the pressure of his fingertips just precise. Seeing his slow and practiced movements, the family doctor smiled, "I’ll prescribe some oral medication for Miss Vaughn, three times daily, after meals." Cyrus Hawthorne nodded slightly, "Thank you for your trouble." After placing down the medication, the family doctor left with the medical kit. Now only Ann Vaughn and Cyrus Hawthorne remained in the room; it was overly quiet. Ann Vaughn resisted the discomfort to adjust her position, keeping her eyes tightly shut, pretending to be unconscious. The area the doctor had applied medication to was cold, significantly relieving the unbearable tingling pain, she almost sighed in relief. When she pretended to faint for authenticity, she actually fell, almost painfully rising to heaven then and there. The ’feigned injury maneuver’ might be cheap, but a plan doesn’t have to be clever, just effective! "How long do you intend to pretend?" While Ann Vaughn was secretly contemplating the next step, a familiar cold voice suddenly pierced her eardrums, the boundless hostility shocked her, causing her fingers to tremble and her eyes to flutter open. She immediately met Cyrus Hawthorne’s intensely cold eyes, the chilling aura within them made her body tremble lightly. This Cyrus Hawthorne... felt so unfamiliar. Before Ann Vaughn could think of a strategy, the man quickly moved forward, his long leg against her, trapping her in the narrow space between the sofa and him, his palm grasped her collar.