Mr. Hawthorne, Your Wife Wants a Divorce Again-Chapter 849: Changing the Surname

Looking at her jealous demeanor, Cyrus Hawthorne let out a soft laugh, his slender fingers pinching her soft, springy cheek. His voice carried a low tone as he spoke, "Little jealous girl?"

Ann Vaughn was annoyed. Her small hand, which was merely resting at the edge of his hem, suddenly slid upwards, confidently caressing the abs she had longed to touch!

Sweetie!

This is exactly how it feels!

Ann Vaughn almost bubbled over with delight, but she didn’t forget to withdraw her hand, lest Cyrus Hawthorne saw through her true intentions.

—However, it was already too late.

Cyrus Hawthorne accurately grasped her mischievous hand that attempted to sneak away, pulling her to stand in front of him. He wrapped his other arm around her slender waist, leaning in slowly to her ear.

"Trying to run after taking advantage?" 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

His voice was even huskier and lower than before, as if it could drip with danger.

Ann Vaughn declared righteously, "You take advantage of me, but I can’t take advantage of you? No such thing exists!"

She had openly and boldly touched him this one time... previously she used to sneak a touch while he wasn’t noticing to satisfy her craving in secrecy.

Just as she finished her words, she saw the man with a gentlemanly facade before her, his demeanor far from sincere, give her a playful squeeze—

Ann Vaughn’s cheeks flushed to a rosy red, as if one could squeeze them and see blood flow.

"Cyrus Hawthorne!! Where exactly do you think you’re touching—"

"What?" Cyrus replied calmly, "Only you can take advantage of me, and I can’t take advantage of you?"

As soon as he finished speaking, he leaned forward and scooped Ann Vaughn up, heading towards the soft and endearing princess bed.

Eli Sheridan and Wilder Sheridan seemed to truly regard her as a little princess; the entire room had an exquisite palace style, and the princess bed was custom made.

The cost was probably around seven figures.

—But that’s not the point!

Ann Vaughn was distracted for a few seconds, only to find herself sinking into something soft, with Cyrus Hawthorne’s tall and majestic figure in front of her, trapped within his embrace.

Her loose strands accidentally hooked onto his fingertips, as if a silent invitation.

Ann Vaughn’s eyes reflected Cyrus Hawthorne as he lightly tugged at his tie, his half-visible sexy collarbone peeking from his collar, leading up to his slightly rolling Adam’s apple...

Unable to restrain herself, she reached out instinctively, her fingertips just touching his Adam’s apple before stopping.

In that instant, Cyrus Hawthorne’s narrow eyes, dark as the night, locked onto Ann Vaughn’s flushed face without blinking.

He raised a hand, his slightly calloused fingers tracing her tender lips, his voice hoarse and enticing, "Touching where you shouldn’t comes with a price."

As for what the price was... it went without saying.

Ann Vaughn quickly withdrew her hand as if electrocuted, knowing full well he wouldn’t harm her, yet his intense gaze still sent a feverish warmth through her heart, leaving her anxious.

The room’s temperature gradually rose, shrouded in a hazy, ambiguous atmosphere.

At that moment, Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes suddenly narrowed, swiftly pulling Ann Vaughn’s waist, rolling with her to the other side of the bed.

Just as he bent down, a mysterious black object flew over them, leaving a shadow in the air.

Also leaving a card on the bed.

By the time Cyrus Hawthorne squinted to look, the dark figure had already flown out the open window, nowhere to be seen.

"What was that just now?" Ann Vaughn snapped out of her shock, feeling an inexplicable familiarity with the dark figure.

"A bat." Cyrus’s voice was slightly grave as he picked up the fallen card, his brows slightly furrowed.

Ann Vaughn leaned closer for a look, her breath momentarily halting.

It was a black and gold card, with a thorny rose adorning the center, the petals still vibrant, with no hint of decay.

In elegant script on the bottom right of the thorny rose were two letters—

GW.

Warren Vance!

The instant the name flashed through her mind, a chill ran swiftly up Ann Vaughn’s spine.

The bat that had been secretly watching her earlier was indeed Warren Vance’s doing.

But how did he know she was here? Could it be... he was also in Marinia?!

As her thoughts slowly returned to her, Ann Vaughn realized the card had already ignited, with dark crimson flames dancing at Cyrus Hawthorne’s fingertips, impressively sinister.

"You’re just going to burn it like that?" Ann Vaughn blinked her eyes.

"Hmm." Cyrus Hawthorne shot her a casual sideways glance, "Reluctant?"

Ann Vaughn shook her head, somehow feeling the burden on her heart had eased considerably, "It’s better burnt, it was an eyesore kept."

Hearing this, Cyrus Hawthorne’s tightened brows slightly relaxed, a fleeting smile passed through his eyes.

Cyrus Hawthorne was not unaware that Ann Vaughn harbored secrets related to the man named Warren Vance.

He did not pry, merely because he was not part of her life during those times.

That was all.

...

During dinner, Old Mrs. Sheridan brought up the topic of Ann Vaughn changing her surname.

Ann Vaughn was taken aback; she hadn’t thought about that.

When she returned to Marinia last time, she had already formally paid respects to the Sheridan Family ancestors in the ancestral hall, recognizing her roots and returning to her lineage.

Old Mrs. Sheridan and Stanley Sheridan had given her extra time to adjust and thus hadn’t mentioned changing her surname at the time, only now asking her opinion.

"Can I not change it?" Ann Vaughn placed down her knife and fork, her red lips slightly pursed, pondering for quite a while before speaking.

Stanley Sheridan was genuinely surprised, his serious expression unable to hold, trying hard to muster a kind smile, "You don’t have to rush to give us an answer, you can take your time, we won’t force you."

"It’s not that." Ann Vaughn bit her lip, worried about seeing blame or misunderstanding in their eyes, unsure if she should voice it.

The next second, the small hand she had resting on her knee was gently held by Cyrus Hawthorne beside her.

The constant warmth transmitted into her skin, gradually calming her restless heart.

Ann Vaughn looked up to explain to them, "My surname and name were given by Grandpa Vaughn who raised me. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be who I am now. Besides..."

"My mother’s last name is also Vaughn." Ann Vaughn’s bright eyes curved, continuing, "I’ve never met her, but at least, I want to retain some connection with her."

Since learning that the Sheridan Family curse only targeted daughters, Ann Vaughn understood why her mother wished she had been a son.

Despite knowing little about her, Ann Vaughn wanted to keep something to prove she was her daughter.

A daughter who did not let her down.

Old Mrs. Sheridan almost broke down in tears at the thought of Ann Vaughn wandering outside from a young age, never having met her biological mother, "My poor sweetie, grandma’s sweetheart—"

Even Stanley Sheridan, being a man, had slightly reddened eyes.