His eyebrows suddenly turned sharp, and his narrow eyes darkened. He had previously instructed Mark Joyce and the others that without his permission, no one was to come within a step of here, regardless of what happened. With the sound of the door opening, a petite figure appeared inside the room. As the door closed behind her, the man’s dark pupils contracted significantly. Unable to discern whether the figure walking step by step toward him was an illusion or his own greed, Cyrus Hawthorne stood still, not moving an inch. The petite figure came closer, and upon closer inspection, she was swaying, walking in an unsteady zigzag pattern up to Cyrus Hawthorne. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs novelFirｅ.net The dim lighting in the room revealed her true appearance — flushed cheeks, wandering eyes, and slightly parted rosy lips, with a faint scent of alcohol that wasn’t mild. Once he confirmed that the person in front of him was not an illusion, Cyrus Hawthorne’s refined eyebrows furrowed, his narrow eyes coldly and heavily fixed on the small woman in front of him, just about to speak. The small woman hiccupped, her soft body uncontrollably collapsing into his chest. This action threw back all the anger in Cyrus Hawthorne’s chest, leaving no time for it to erupt. Cyrus Hawthorne’s handsome face was as dark as a stormy sky, his brow furrowing and then relaxing. After a few breaths, he lifted the woman in his arms and laid her on the bed. Who would have thought Ann Vaughn suddenly opened her eyes and, just a second before being laid down, she wrapped her arms around his neck like an octopus, clinging tightly to him. "You already got to hold me and take advantage of me, and now you plan to deny everything and abandon me!" She preemptively said loudly, "I tell you, that’s not happening!" Cyrus Hawthorne almost laughed from fury. This woman’s skills had grown. Did she think he wouldn’t leave her because he was reluctant to let her go, even after being humiliated to such an extent and not willing to stop and leave? "Ann... Vaughn." Cyrus Hawthorne’s deep cold voice carried heavy hostility, and his grasp on her slender wrists suddenly tightened, seemingly about to break them. Today, if he didn’t teach her a lesson, she might think she could upset the heavens — Ann Vaughn suddenly tilted her head back, her soft lips pecking loudly against Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips that were about to utter words, producing a crisp sound. The anger surrounding Cyrus Hawthorne froze suddenly. "You..." The man’s voice turned hoarse, his breath becoming unsteady: "Do you even know what you’re doing?" "I’m not drunk, nor have I hit my head, why wouldn’t I know what I’m doing!" Ann Vaughn tightened her grip around his neck, her eyes reddened with an intoxicated hue, yet defiantly loudly rebutted him: "If it weren’t for liking you so much that I can’t control myself, what girl would shamelessly follow after a man who’s about to hate her to death?!" Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression froze, strands of astonishment leaking from his eyes. Ann Vaughn had buried the secret she’d kept for fifteen years deep in her heart for years, yet she couldn’t bring herself to utter a word to him. He had thought about the possibility that her feelings for him were an obsession deepened by time, rather than pure affection. Or perhaps there was affection, but it wasn’t deep... Now, hearing her confess her affection directly from her own mouth shocked him as though it was the first time he realized he was her moon. As the first words burst out, the grievances and bitterness suppressed in Ann Vaughn’s heart surged like a broken dam, overwhelming her. She punched Cyrus Hawthorne’s shoulder hard: "Aren’t you really smart? How come you didn’t realize that the time from when I met you to when we got married adds up to exactly fifteen years?!" "I mentioned divorce and you actually agreed to it, why didn’t you think carefully about the reasons and dilemmas behind my sudden mention of divorce?" "I didn’t even hold previous things against you and came back to find you, and you speak coldly to me, fine, but how could you join hands with Miyi Yates to bully me! Saying such excessive words to humiliate me, making me feel terrible!" "I get it now, men’s words are deceitful lies! No matter how good they are to you on normal days, that’s not love, it’s just me imagining things thinking you liked me back! I’m so stupid!" "I never want to like you again, waaa—" As she scolded, Ann Vaughn felt as if her chest was stuffed with two soaked cotton balls, unable to swallow or spit out, making her feel terribly uncomfortable. After ranting, she realized how inappropriate it seemed to cry , so she buried her head into Cyrus Hawthorne’s shoulder, sniffled her reddened little nose, trying to hide her embarrassed state. Little did she know, the heart of the man holding her was almost shattered by her tears. She clearly wasn’t crying intensely, just a few whimpers like a little cat, yet she had already left him in tatters. He wanted to hold her tight, to kiss away her tear-stained cheeks, to comfort her, offering her absolute safety and protection— Yet it was impossible. The tenderness that had just risen in Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes was instantly controlled and concealed completely, leaving no trace. His cold and handsome face, with just one glance, was enough to make someone retreat. However, at this moment, Ann Vaughn rubbed her head against his chest, her recently cried voice soft with a hint of sob: "Has it been two minutes? I want to take back what I just said." Cyrus Hawthorne’s heart, which had just hardened again, suddenly became unbearably soft. The arms that were about to let her go suddenly tightened, pulling her heavily into his embrace as if wanting to embed her into his bones and blood, to live forever with him. "It’s not just your imagination." The low, husky voice brushed past her ear, and still immersed in her sadness, Ann Vaughn gave a little hiccup from the alcohol. Suddenly feeling something like a kiss on the top of her head, Ann Vaughn dazedly raised her head, and instantly looked into Cyrus Hawthorne’s deeply affectionate eyes, rendering her immobile. A tingling sensation spread along her back, making Ann Vaughn twitch her little nose in discomfort. "If you really want me to stay far away from you forever, just look into my eyes now and say you hate me," Ann Vaughn tried to steady her wandering gaze and said word by word: "I’ll leave immediately and never appear in front of you again." That’s exactly what Cyrus Hawthorne desired. The farther she was from him, the happier and safer she’d be. But before that thought — He had countless times wanted to pull her into the endless abyss with him, to have her accompany him in his downfall and eventual demise. Even if he was in hell, he wanted her to be the one by his side. Yet Cyrus Hawthorne realized, hell was too dark, a place that would make someone like her, who’s afraid of darkness, cry. Thus, he promised her a lifetime of brightness, living vividly and freely in every day without him. This is what Cyrus Hawthorne hoped, for Ann Vaughn’s life in the future.