Chapter 280: Chapter 280: Aren’t We Husband and Wife?
Ann Vaughn took a sip of her hot drink and shook her head; is this person trying to die faster?
Although Cyrus Hawthorne’s face at this moment was as dark as spilled ink, Ann Vaughn shrank her neck, pretending not to see him.
Soon, Mark Joyce called the director over.
"Mr. Hawthorne, your arrival truly makes my humble abode shine," the director walked over with a beaming smile, "Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I would have welcomed you properly."
"This person, is he an actor in your team?" Cyrus Hawthorne directly bypassed the director’s ramblings, asking coldly.
The young actor’s face turned pale instantly; the director called him Mr. Hawthorne? Could it be that Mr. Hawthorne...
Quinn, who had just come down from the stage, learned what had happened earlier and was so angry she gritted her teeth, giving low voice instructions to her assistant.
The people she brought dared to bully others, even if they were from the same company, she wouldn’t be lenient!
"Yes, yes, just a minor actor. If you are not satisfied, I will replace him immediately!" The director promptly replied, choosing without hesitation to sacrifice the minor actor to protect the major player.
Hawthorne Corp’s entertainment company invested one hundred fifty million in this movie; they couldn’t afford to anger their major investor.
The young actor swayed slightly, "Director, my scenes are almost finished..."
If he were replaced now, wouldn’t his efforts over the past few months be in vain?
The director ignored him, directly instructing the crew to take him away, lest he obstruct Mr. Hawthorne’s view.
"Mr. Hawthorne, are you satisfied with how I handled this?" The director asked with a sycophantic smile.
Cyrus Hawthorne turned his gaze to Ann Vaughn, using his eyes to ask her if she was satisfied.
Ann Vaughn actually hadn’t been taken advantage of by the young actor, merely disgusted, akin to being gnawed on by a pig.
But seeing the dark flames of rage gathering in Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes, seemingly suppressing anger, made her feel a bit uneasy.
Seeing Ann Vaughn not only not answering but wanting to retreat behind Quinn, Cyrus Hawthorne’s gaze darkened. He raised his hand to grasp her wrist, pulling her to walk out of the filming set.
Quinn originally wanted to step in, but reacted too slowly, and could only watch Ann Vaughn being taken away by that dignified, aloof man.
After leaving the set and driving a certain distance away, the atmosphere in the car was deathly silent.
Ann Vaughn deliberately ignored the penetrating gaze beside her, watching the swiftly passing landscape out the window, her lips slightly pursed.
Unable to ignore it any longer, Ann Vaughn turned her head quietly, locking eyes with his deep and narrow gaze.
Her heart skipped a beat, instinctively asking, "You’re not still angry, are you? I wasn’t the one who provoked that person..."
Initially, she was indeed angry, but Cyrus Hawthorne intervened to help her out, and she wasn’t that upset anymore.
Ann Vaughn was pondering this when she felt a gentle squeeze on her palm.
Lifting her gaze, she saw the anger in Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes had long dissipated. He nodded and held her hand firmly, speaking in a low voice, "Next time you encounter such people, don’t waste words with them."
"Even if you cripple them, I’ll handle the aftermath."
"You might try relying on me, hmm?"
Ann Vaughn’s gaze flickered slightly, somewhat dazed as she looked at him, her eyes slightly warm.
As if a warm current surged from her previously numb heart, leaving her somewhat at a loss and feeling a bittersweet tang.
When one is constantly fed the ideology of "being tolerant," "being content," "knowing when to stop," one inevitably ends up bearing everything alone.
Everyone thought she was a queen, but only one person believed she could also be a princess.
Unfortunately, this version of Cyrus Hawthorne only existed after his memory loss.
If he regained his memory one day, would he still be the commanding and domineering emperor?
With this thought, the brightness in Ann Vaughn’s eyes dimmed slightly, forcing a smile as she said, "I always rely solely on myself."
She alone can never be taken away by anyone.
Whereas he can.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s gesture of lightly squeezing her palm paused briefly. He pursed his lips but didn’t say anything.
Her distrust and defensiveness were easy to notice, even if she concealed them well.
Half an hour later.
The car stopped in front of an ornate European-style villa halfway up a mountain.
Uncle Dexter brought the servants out to greet them; upon Cyrus Hawthorne’s exit, he recalled his identity, his eyes watering, saying, "Young master, I am Uncle Dexter, Special Assistant Joyce should have mentioned me to you."
"Hmm." Cyrus Hawthorne nodded slightly, his gaze cold as if looking at a stranger.
Then he walked to the other side of the car and opened the door for Ann Vaughn, "Get out."
Ann Vaughn initially intended to wait until he got out, then have the driver take her back to the city.
But with Uncle Dexter and the numerous servants watching her, she couldn’t retreat into the car even if she wanted.
"Uncle Dexter, long time no see." Ann Vaughn greeted Uncle Dexter with a gentle smile, appearing very demure.
Uncle Dexter’s previously melancholic face brightened instantly, "Miss Vaughn is here, Uncle Dexter talks about you daily."
"Miss Vaughn?" Before Ann Vaughn could respond, Cyrus Hawthorne frowned, sending a warning look to Uncle Dexter.
Uncle Dexter, who had watched Cyrus Hawthorne grow up, instantly understood his intentions and hurriedly explained, "Young master, you and Miss Vaughn have long since..."
"Ahem!" Mark Joyce standing by the side suddenly coughed twice, interrupting Uncle Dexter, while patting his shoulder, "Uncle Dexter, there’s something on your shoulder."
Taking the chance to lower his head, Mark Joyce quickly whispered something in Uncle Dexter’s ear.
"Oh, my memory." Uncle Dexter swapped to a smiley demeanor, "Miss Vaughn doesn’t like being called Young Madam by us, so we call her that instead."
That was close!
Almost held the young master back!
For some reason, Ann Vaughn felt there was something off, as if something was being hidden from her.
But upon closer inspection, nothing seemed amiss.
"Oh?" Cyrus Hawthorne gazed intently at Ann Vaughn, "Aren’t we a married couple?"
Ann Vaughn looked up, her delicate face calm as she looked at him, "We could have been."
They could have... had a somewhat happy process.
At least when leaving, it wouldn’t be with a heart full of hate and sorrow.
The weight of her words was too heavy, difficult to fathom what her mood was, to utter such words.
Cyrus Hawthorne’s sharp gaze locked onto Ann Vaughn’s face, his lips gradually pressing into a thin line.
Uncle Dexter sensed the strange atmosphere between them and quickly intervened, "Miss Vaughn, we tidy your room daily; you must be tired, why not rest first?"
Ann Vaughn nodded slightly, dispelling the oppressive feeling in her heart, and walked toward the villa.