Chapter 454: Chapter 454: Stole His Precious Darling
What’s this?
Ann Vaughn reached out to catch the ancient-looking envelope, suddenly remembering something, and couldn’t wait to open it.
On the letter paper inside, three words were written with gentle strokes: The old place.
The handwriting is...
Ann Vaughn’s clear eyes suddenly shivered with prolonged light, she didn’t have time to think further, took the letter to find Cyrus Hawthorne, saw him standing with a furrowed brow in front of an ink painting of mountains and rivers, his lowered narrow eyes slightly hid a few strands of fatigue.
Whether it was the thin light shining on him from outside at that moment or for some other reason, Ann Vaughn felt for a moment that... his face seemed exceptionally pale.
"Quinn," Ann Vaughn clutched the envelope tightly in her hand, walked over and grabbed his arm, her slender fingers gently feeling his wrist, checking carefully, his pulse was steady and strong, showing no signs of weakness, indicating his health was not an issue.
Just like the results she had gotten from taking his pulse every day during this period.
Initially, she was worried that his recent infection would affect his fundamental health, but when she secretly checked his pulse before, she found that there wasn’t a single problem within his body, showing that he had a very good physique.
But Ann Vaughn always felt that something was off, she steadied her mind and was about to take his pulse more closely, when Cyrus Hawthorne withdrew his palm and asked her in a deep voice, "Did you find something?"
As he spoke, he unfolded the envelope from Ann Vaughn’s hand, slightly raised his cool eyebrows, "The old place?"
Ann Vaughn was instantly absorbed by the letter, nodded vigorously, "When I was young, every birthday, Grandpa would leave clues in the house, letting me find my birthday gifts based on the clues. At first, I wasn’t very skilled, but later I figured out Grandpa’s treasure hiding method, and each time I found them accurately!"
Telling these stories, it seemed a layer of starlight fell in her eyes, warm and abiding.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s thin lips lifted slightly, then returned the envelope to her, "I know. Grandpa Vaughn once gave me the same gift, in the same manner as well."
"Grandpa gave you a gift too? I used to think Grandpa didn’t really like you." Ann Vaughn said in surprise.
He naturally didn’t like him.
Cyrus Hawthorne looked at the painting of landscapes by Old Master Vaughn hanging on the wall, the brush strokes were moderate, gentle and grand, faintly revealing some aspects of the painter’s temperament.
However, such a gentle and amiable old man made things difficult for him in every way, even the gift he gave was finally found on the pointed roof of the villa.
It can be said that since Old Master Hawthorne expressed his wish to become in-laws with Old Master Vaughn, Old Master Vaughn had consistently disliked him.
Who made him silently snatch away Old Master Vaughn’s precious child.
Standing in front of him, Ann Vaughn didn’t know his thoughts, holding the letter paper pondering for a long time, she couldn’t figure out where "The old place" actually was.
Those childhood days were still too distant for her, not every detail could be remembered clearly.
"Stop thinking, just search directly." Seeing her tangled up like a cat that couldn’t reach its fish snack, even Cyrus Hawthorne’s cold, weary eyes carried a hint of a smile.
"You’re right." Remembering Grandpa’s treasure hiding habits, Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but rub her little hands in anticipation, "Then I’ll go to the second floor, you take care of the downstairs."
"Okay."
On the second floor, there were three rooms, one was Ann Vaughn’s bedroom, the other two were a storage room for medicinal materials and a study, since they hadn’t been cleaned for a long time, they were already covered in thick dust.
Back then, the items placed in these rooms had been grabbed and taken by the relatives who quickly rushed in after Old Master Vaughn was buried, leaving only a pile of worthless things that no one wanted.
If it wasn’t for Old Master Vaughn’s foresight to put the truly valuable things in a bank safety deposit box, with only Ann Vaughn knowing the password, they would have been snatched away completely by those wolves and tigers.
But the things left behind that were worthless to those people, were treasures to Ann Vaughn.
Her previous albums, sheet music, opera books, exercise books, diaries, etc., were all still there.
Ann Vaughn searched the room thoroughly, not even overlooking the space under the bed and the lampshade, but still didn’t find any clues hidden by Grandpa.
Nothing need be said about the storage room and study, there was nothing at all.
"Could ’The old place’ actually refer to the final treasure location? But where is that exactly?" Ann Vaughn left the study, feeling as though she had caught onto something, but it quickly slipped away.
While pondering, she walked along the corridor toward the stairway, suddenly hearing footsteps from above her head.
Ann Vaughn stopped immediately, perplexedly rubbed her ears, there was only one storage room on the third floor, then followed by the rooftop, Quinn went up...
No, this isn’t Cyrus Hawthorne’s footsteps!
Plop plop.
The footsteps coming from above were slow and heavy, very different from the stable and subtle steps Cyrus Hawthorne usually had.
Then who is the person on the third floor now...?!
A thief?!
Ann Vaughn only felt a buzz in her head, her scalp tingling.
She stepped quickly toward the stairway to go downstairs to find Cyrus Hawthorne, but her wrist was suddenly clasped by a cold hand that stretched out from the side out of nowhere, pulling her into the shadow of the corner involuntarily!
A chill crept up her spine, her scream almost came out of her mouth but was covered, she widened her eyes in terror, "Mmm mmm!"
"Don’t make a sound."
A low, cold, stone-like voice reached Ann Vaughn’s ears, her wide eyes also reflected the incredibly handsome face of the man.
Realizing that it was Cyrus Hawthorne, Ann Vaughn exhaled deeply in relief, her heart that almost jumped out of her throat returned to its place.
Yet her eyes were slightly moist, glaring at him with a hint of accusation, "It’s a good thing I don’t have heart disease."
Cyrus Hawthorne released his hand from covering her mouth, but didn’t reply, because at that moment the footsteps upstairs were coming down.
"Who is it?" Ann Vaughn mouthed the question, nervously clenching the hem of his clothes, her entire mind captured by the footsteps coming toward them.
She didn’t notice that Cyrus Hawthorne’s back was leaning against the wall, while she was just nestled in his arms, the two bodies fitting tightly together without a gap.
Ann Vaughn shivered involuntarily, not sure if it was Cyrus Hawthorne’s low body temperature or her fear causing it.
The colder it was, the more she couldn’t help but lean closer to Cyrus Hawthorne, wanting to draw some warmth.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes darkened slightly, effortlessly sensing the unobtrusive soft curve pressing against his chest, lightly trembling with a rhythmic pulse.
His arm around her waist restrained the increasing tightness, sculpting into an elegant and powerful curve.
Just then, the footsteps arrived next to the shadow they were hiding in.
Ann Vaughn turned her head as if noticing something, and when she saw who it was, her mind went blank instantly.