Mr. Hawthorne, Your Wife Wants a Divorce Again-Chapter 1021: Too Late to Be Shy Now

Kenny mentioned that he was very busy today, working overtime at the company all night, and would be flying to M Country on a business trip tomorrow.

So she specifically instructed the servants and Sept not to tell him about this so as not to affect his work.

But unexpectedly, he still came back.

"Cyrus Hawthorne," Ann Vaughn suddenly spoke up, "Ryan Wyatt is dead."

Cyrus Hawthorne wiped the fine sweat off her face with a handkerchief, nodded slightly at her words, and said, "I know. From the moment he fell into my hands, it was destined that Warren Vance wouldn’t let him live any longer. If not today, then tomorrow. If not you, then someone else."

He seldom explained to anyone, always doing things his own way.

But all the remaining patience he had was for Ann Vaughn.

That’s how he could see through her facade of composure to the fear and unease in her heart.

"If I hadn’t asked him those questions, maybe he wouldn’t have died." Ann Vaughn lowered her eyes, her hands clenching tighter and tighter.

"It’s not your fault." Cyrus Hawthorne put down the handkerchief, held her cold little face, and made her look into his eyes, saying softly, "Capturing him here was an insult to both Warren Vance and the Gothasen Royal Family. Ryan Wyatt’s death was merely a means of retaliation against me."

Although she knew he was comforting her, the guilt and panic weighing heavily on Ann Vaughn’s heart gradually dissipated.

"Cyrus Hawthorne, you’re really good at comforting people," Ann Vaughn murmured, pursing her lips.

Seeing her regain some vitality, Cyrus Hawthorne’s thin lips curved slightly, and then he planted a kiss on the corner of her lips.

"Wait here obediently for me."

"Where are you going?" Ann Vaughn instinctively grabbed the hem of his shirt, "I’ll go with you."

It was rare to see Ann Vaughn rely on him so much, and the joy overflowing from his chest made Cyrus Hawthorne’s meticulously sculpted handsome face appear more vibrant and approachable.

No longer so aloof and unapproachable.

Downstairs in the dining room.

The table was set with four dishes and a soup, all primarily light in flavor, but judging by the color and aroma, they were indeed exquisite.

Ann Vaughn looked at the pumpkin porridge in front of her, her stomach growled twice, and her lost appetite finally returned.

"Eat quickly, what are you dawdling for?" Cyrus Hawthorne placed a spoon next to her hand, reminding her in a low voice.

"Oh, oh!" Ann Vaughn picked up the spoon, scooped a mouthful of pumpkin porridge into her mouth, and the sweet pumpkin wrapped in rice grains was sweet, sticky, and soft, warming her stomach.

Ann Vaughn was immediately amazed.

Even simple pumpkin porridge could be made so delicious; naturally, the other dishes wouldn’t taste any worse.

Ann Vaughn ate the pumpkin porridge and pickled vegetables alternately, her cheeks puffed out as she ate, thoroughly enjoying herself.

Cyrus Hawthorne propped his chin up, watching her eat. Although she ate quickly, her eating manner wasn’t crude at all; it was natural and cute, a visual delight.

But no matter how much Ann Vaughn could eat, her slightly aching stomach wouldn’t allow her to eat too much, leaving half the bowl of pumpkin porridge.

"Oh, what a pity."

Ann Vaughn pitifully looked at the remaining pumpkin porridge, touching her stomach, and sighed in regret.

Seeing her pick up the spoon again, seemingly intending to eat a few more bites, Cyrus Hawthorne immediately held down her hand.

"Don’t force yourself if you can’t eat anymore." Cyrus Hawthorne furrowed his brow slightly, his deep voice carrying a comforting tone, "I’ll make more for you next time."

This little foodie.

Just how fixated on food was she?

Hearing Cyrus Hawthorne’s words, Ann Vaughn reluctantly let go of the spoon and retorted, "I’m not going to keep eating, just seeing how much is left."

"Liar." Cyrus Hawthorne chuckled softly, taking the bowl still in her hands, and nonchalantly finished off the remaining porridge and vegetables using the spoon she had used.

Ann Vaughn: ???

"I-I-I already ate that!" Ann Vaughn stomped her foot hard, the paleness on her face quickly dissipating, replaced by a blush.

Even though they’d already kissed and done everything they should have, Ann Vaughn still blushed with embarrassment, wishing she could bury herself in the ground.

Didn’t he have a cleanliness obsession? How could he not care now!?

Cyrus Hawthorne remained calm, glancing at her blushing face, his thin lips curling into a teasing smile, "What part of you haven’t I tasted? It’s too late to be shy now."

Ann Vaughn: !!!

Dammit.

She couldn’t win against this shameless guy!!

As she pouted, Cyrus guessed what she was thinking, and his smile deepened, saying to her softly, "Annie, there’s something on your face."

"Huh? Where?" Ann Vaughn was flustered and quickly wiped her face with her sleeve.

But just as she lifted her hand, Cyrus held it and kissed her softly but firmly on the lips, gently holding the back of her head.

Ann Vaughn was startled, and remembering they were in the dining room, instinctively began to struggle.

But her struggles were all melted away under Cyrus Hawthorne’s gentle touch.

"Thud."

Suddenly, there was a sound at the dining room door.

Ann Vaughn, kissed to the point of losing breath, was jolted awake, pushing Cyrus Hawthorne away.

Turning her head, she saw a servant standing at the door with flushed cheeks, holding medicine and water. He neither entered nor retreated, his eyes darting around, not daring to look at them.

Ann Vaughn’s sense of shame nearly reached its limit, exploding in her bloodstream.

Oh, she was going to kill Cyrus Hawthorne!!

"Put the things down and leave." Cyrus Hawthorne told the servant calmly, clutching the blushing young woman back into his arms.

"Y-yes, sir." The servant stammered, quickly placing the items down and leaving.

After the person left, Ann Vaughn buried herself in Cyrus Hawthorne’s arms, wishing she could die on the spot.

Cyrus Hawthorne raised an amused eyebrow, gently stroking the back of her neck to comfort her, "It’s just a kiss, what’s there to be shy about?"

Whether she had lost her memory or not, this woman was still as thin-skinned as ever in certain matters.

"It’s all your fault!" Ann Vaughn said angrily, pinching his waist hard in frustration, "You’ve ruined my reputation!"

"Yes, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have lost control and kissed you in the dining room, and I definitely shouldn’t have been seen, right?" Cyrus Hawthorne coaxed her softly, helping her up from his embrace, "Little troublemaker, drink your medicine."

Little troublemaker...

Ann Vaughn’s heartbeat sped up, her cheeks turning crimson, "Who’s your little troublemaker! Don’t randomly claim relationships! I haven’t even talked to you about locking me up with handcuffs and doing this and that! Don’t think I’ve forgiven you!"

"Are you sure you want to bring those matters up?" Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes narrowed slightly, looking at her with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile.

In those deep, icy-pool-like eyes, there was a dangerous signal that made Ann Vaughn instinctively want to run.

Ann Vaughn shrank her neck, avoiding eye contact, muttering under her breath, "Nonsense."