I don’t know what exactly Ann Vaughn did to catch Old Master Hawthorne’s eye, making him protect her so fiercely and refuse to agree to the divorce.
Ann Vaughn halted at the foot of the stairs, her heart aching, her small hand gripping the railing tightly.
Old Master Hawthorne sipped his tea leisurely. Though his aged face didn’t look particularly vibrant, his voice was steady and grave, "In the Hawthorne Family, we only have the concept of widowhood, not divorce. If you insist on leaving, fine, but you’ll walk away without a penny; everything will be left to that Annie as compensation. I, as an old man, don’t care what you do."
One wonders how regretful this clueless brat will be for the words spoken today.
"Grandfather, she’s not one of the Hawthorne Family," Cyrus Hawthorne stated calmly with a slight frown.
"If I say she is, she is," chuckled Old Master Hawthorne. "Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, you little brat. As long as I’m around, stop dreaming about the impossible. That Annie is already pitiful enough, and you still bully her. Are you even human?"
The servants on the side held back their laughter, and after a cold glance from Cyrus, they immediately lowered their heads.
"Apart from the empty title of Mrs. Hawthorne, I won’t give her anything else."
Hearing this, Old Master Hawthorne chuckled angrily and said, "Cian, it’s not that I’m criticizing you, but you’ve been good at everything since you were little, except your eye for women as an iron-willed man."
Cyrus didn’t respond, his brows knit with a faint displeasure.
Ann Vaughn slowly gathered herself, raised her hand to rub her cheeks to look a bit better, and then stepped into the living room to greet Old Master Hawthorne, "Grandfather."
Upon seeing her, the expression in Cyrus’s eyes cooled, his hawk-like gaze coldly sweeping over her.
"It’s only been half a month since I last saw our dear Annie, and she’s gotten thinner," remarked Old Master Hawthorne fondly towards Ann Vaughn, his face beaming. "If there’s anything you’re not used to, do speak up. Don’t wrong yourself."
"Grandfather, you know that being ’skinny’ is all the rage now; Annie’s already quite plump!" Ann Vaughn laughed lightly as she sat next to Old Master Hawthorne, but her smile froze slightly as she looked up.
The Old Master’s face... why does it look like he’s been poisoned?!
Old Master Hawthorne burst out laughing, "You silly girl, you’re nearly skin and bones yet you talk about being fat! Cyrus, stop merely focusing on those emotionless documents of yours, spend more time with Annie. Can those documents accompany you in your old age?"
Hearing this, Ann Vaughn chuckled softly, though her heart felt a bit heavy. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on ɴoᴠel Fɪre.nᴇt
Cyrus, on the other hand, looked exasperated, not once directly looking at her since she entered, his tone cold and hard, "I’d prefer to spend the rest of my life with documents."
"Fine, maybe one day you’ll have an heir with those documents, so Grandpa can see it happen in his lifetime!"
Ann Vaughn’s eyes glimmered lightly, suddenly inspired by an intuition, she grabbed Old Master Hawthorne’s arm playfully, "Grandfather, Annie thinks your complexion doesn’t look good. Have you been waking up at night and finding it hard to sleep?"
"Annie, how did you know?" Old Master Hawthorne looked at Ann Vaughn in surprise, as no one knew about this except the doctor.
Suddenly, he recalled that Ann Vaughn’s grandfather was a remarkable physician; even those patients halfway to death’s door could be pulled back by him.
Little Annie learned from the old friend since her childhood, her medical skills must be exceptional too, but it seemed she was hinting at something...