Cyrus Hawthorne’s thin lips curled up, "Yes." Little Dumpling: "You actually dare to admit it! I’m going to call for help!" Cyrus Hawthorne raised his hand and effortlessly pushed the door open, striding inside with his long legs, "Don’t worry, I’m not here to steal you, little one." Upon hearing this, Little Dumpling stood bewildered on the spot. There was only him as the child in the house, if not to steal him then it was to steal... The next second, Little Dumpling angrily raised his head. The Archfiend wants to steal his mommy!! Before Cyrus Hawthorne arrived, Ann Vaughn was trying to concoct a new medicine in the kitchen, intended to replace the old one Cyrus was taking. But after leaving and returning, Ann couldn’t remember what the medicine on the stove was for. The light before her was dim, the rising mist from the medicine pot enveloped her face, blurring the corners of her mouth and the mischievous glint in her eyes. It made her look like a witch brewing poison in a large pot... "Add more coptis, a bit of scorpion tail, throw this in too, then some centipede grass..." A ghostly female voice that seemed like it could only exist in horror movies kept echoing from a corner of the kitchen, "Cyrus isn’t afraid of bitterness, might as well make it bitter enough to kill him!" Just as she said that, a low voice brushed past Ann’s ear, "You’re trying to kill me with bitterness?" Ann’s hand holding the long spoon stirring the medicine suddenly froze, she quickly turned her head, and met Cyrus Hawthorne’s deep and gloomy eyes. The distance between them was so close that his warm breath lightly brushed her cheek. Ann Vaughn’s breathing hitched. ...Did he hear all those things she just muttered under her breath?! "Heard it all." Cyrus Hawthorne saw through her thoughts, raised an eyebrow, "You’ve got quite the nerve, huh?" "No way..." Ann, who had been bursting with confidence a second ago, instantly turned timid and quietly took a step back, "This isn’t the new medicine for you. How could I be so heartless?" "Oh?" Cyrus looked at her with a half-smile, his gaze passed over her and landed on the pot of medicine, the color of which couldn’t be described. He wondered how much resentment she had against him to cook the medicine to be even scarier than poison. Afraid he might ask her to taste it to prove it wasn’t nonsense, Ann quickly poured the entire pot of medicine away. Watching as she guiltily bustled about, the weariness in Cyrus Hawthorne’s brow slightly diminished, he leaned casually against the door frame, quietly observing her. Finally clearing away all the "evidence", Ann turned her head and saw Cyrus still standing there, those pitch-black eyes steadily fixed on her, making her heart tremble. Content orıginally comes from 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵※𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮※𝓷𝓮𝓽 "...It’s almost eleven, aren’t you going home?" To her surprise, Cyrus raised an eyebrow and asked her, "Aren’t you coming home with me?" "We’re already divorced, it’s probably not appropriate to still live together." He was quick to forget about the rings, wasn’t he the one who first wanted to thoroughly define their boundaries? This topic still made Ann’s heart ache a bit, she headed straight out of the kitchen and sat down by the harp placed in the corner of the living room. She promised Susie Sommers to play a song at her birthday party, one she had never heard before, but after practicing for two days, she was still a bit rusty. Cyrus Hawthorne followed her into the living room and sat on the sofa facing the harp, elegantly crossing his long legs, his posture relaxed. His eyes, deep like the sea, reflected the slender figure sitting before the harp; her white ruffled nightgown and serene, refined profile were like the last peace of this noisy world. The ethereal and pleasing sounds of the harp flowed from her alabaster fingers, soothing and relaxing his tired nerves. Ann practiced for over an hour, finally finding the right feel, before she stopped. She stood up, stretched her stiff legs from sitting too long, and turned her head, only to find Cyrus had not left the living room. He had fallen asleep. Ann approached, ready to wake him, but upon seeing his slightly weary face, her heart felt strange. ...Could it be that he’s still not fully recovered and is already busy with work? Or did something happen before he came to her? "Not taking care of your own health again..." Ann murmured quietly, her fingertips lightly brushing over the furrowed brow on his sleeping face. The next second, her fingertips were suddenly enveloped by a warm, large hand. The dry warmth from the palm translated instantly, making Ann’s eyes widen, and look in astonishment at the man whose eyes had opened, "You, weren’t you asleep?" "Awake." Perhaps because he had just woken up, his voice carried a faint raspiness, yet he didn’t release her fingers, instead he casually hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her into his embrace. Before Ann could react, her whole body was already immersed in his hold, the faint cool fragrance enveloping her instantly. Cyrus shifted on the sofa, turning her to the inside to prevent her from falling off. One of his hands rested on Ann’s waist, the other surrounded her shoulder, domineeringly confining her in his arms. "What are you doing?" Ann placed her hand against his broad chest, her cheeks faintly warm, "If you want to sleep, go back to your place, why are you occupying my sofa?" "So you’re willing to come home with me?" His low, slow voice brushed past her ear. Ann’s ears tingled, the tremor conveyed from her fingertips to her heart, she hesitated before responding, "I’m fine living here." "Living in someone else’s place is not as convenient as being in your own home." He pondered for a moment and spoke in a deep voice. "Who says this is someone else’s? I just bought this place a few days ago, Susie’s next door, it’s really convenient." Ann, the little rich lady, proudly lifted her chin. Seeing he was silent, Ann raised her head, "Why aren’t you saying anything..." Before she could finish, Cyrus pressed her head back into his embrace, "Don’t move, sleep." Ann: "..." Isn’t this her home after all?? Ann awoke in her bedroom, Cyrus’s figure was nowhere to be seen, only a firm handwriting note was left on the table. —Got something urgent, can’t stay with you, left breakfast on the table. Ann read these words, puffed her cheeks a bit, muttering softly, "Who said they needed you to stay?" Yet the smile spreading from her brow seemed warm enough to melt the cold wind outside. After washing up and having breakfast, Ann intended to continue practicing that song, but received a call for help from Julian Ford.