Mr. Hawthorne, Your Wife Wants a Divorce Again-Chapter 865: Not a Single One Shall Be Spared!
After the rain stopped.
Once the paint on the painting dried completely, Hugo Sullivan mounted the painting into a frame, and placed it and the painting brought by the female assistant into two separate boxes.
"Tell the other party that the items are ready. Meet at the usual place." Hugo handed the boxes to the female assistant without any expression, and picked up a handkerchief to wipe his hands.
"Okay." The female assistant responded, "I’ll go prepare the car now."
Hugo nodded, casually tossed the handkerchief into the trash bin, and left the garden without even glancing at it.
Who would have thought, the female assistant had just left for less than half a minute before she hurriedly returned to the living room, speaking to Hugo who was drinking water: "Young master, the Crown Prince has come personally, just at the door!"
Hugo’s grip on the water cup tightened, frowning as he quickly walked outside.
In front of the residence, two rows of black luxury cars were parked, surrounding a conspicuous white Koenigsegg in the middle.
Hugo walked to the Koenigsegg, placed one hand on his chest, and bowed slightly to the person inside the car, "Your Highness, pardon for the lack of greeting."
The car window slowly rolled down, revealing Warren Vance inside, his long legs crossed, a heavy book resting on his knee, a gust of wind turning a page.
"Bryce Andre, long time no see."
"Thanks for your concern." Hugo smiled faintly, "If you don’t mind, why not come inside for a cup of tea?"
Warren nonchalantly turned his head, "No need. I’m only interested in the paintings."
"Oh, forgive my presumptuousness." Hugo didn’t seem uneasy with his attitude and turned to instruct the female assistant to bring the painting out.
The female assistant quickly ran inside, looked at the two painting boxes in the living room, and took one based on memory, hastily handing it over to Hugo.
Hugo handed the painting into the car, "This is a genuine Van Gogh I stumbled upon half a month ago. I heard Your Highness loves paintings, so I kept it for you."
"Is that so." Warren replied indifferently, his tone unreadable.
Beside him, Quinn Bishop quickly opened the box, carefully taking out the painting for Warren to see. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂
"Sir, look. This is... uh?" Quinn was stunned as he took out the painting; it was clearly not a Van Gogh piece.
Moreover, the paint on the painting had evidently just dried not long ago. Did Andre’s family really try to fool their Highness with this?!
Gazing at the painting, Warren’s dark red eyes shimmered with growing interest.
"Such a subpar work, claiming to be a Van Gogh authentic?"
This sarcastic remark immediately changed Hugo’s expression as he glanced at the painting, instantly understanding what happened.
"Your Highness, I apologize. My assistant took the wrong painting. This one is my impromptu work created today, not a Van Gogh original." Hugo turned his head to look at the pale-faced assistant, "Go bring the other box here."
Before the assistant could respond, Warren’s leisurely voice came from within the car, "The more precious the treasure, the more it needs a personal touch. I’ll get it myself."
Hearing this, a trace of confusion flickered in Hugo’s eyes, yet his expression remained unchanged, "Then I’ll trouble Your Highness."
Inside the house.
Warren narrowed his eyes, scanning the surroundings, one hand behind his back, leisurely walking into the living room.
The floor-to-ceiling window was still open, and a lot of rainwater had come in during the rain, soaking the curtains.
"Your Highness, please have a seat. I’ll make some good tea for you." Hugo gestured invitingly, but Warren didn’t take it, strolling over to the floor-to-ceiling window as if taking a leisurely stroll.
Quinn hurried forward with an umbrella to prevent water from the eaves from dripping onto Warren.
Unexpectedly, Warren’s body paused for a moment, then he suddenly jumped out into the garden’s thorn bushes from the window!
"Sir—" Quinn’s face changed dramatically and followed suit hurriedly.
Seeing this while making tea in the living room, Hugo suddenly got up, striding to the window.
There he saw Warren stepping through the garden’s thorn bushes, walking toward a broken, bloody figure lying amid the thorns. He took off his uniform jacket, bent down carefully, and cradled her out.
"Look here," Warren held the almost weightless woman in his arms, speaking casually, "I let you go, not to meet like this today."
On that enchanting face, however, there was not a hint of jest, the dark-red pupils glistening with a deep, latent murderous intent.
"Sir, this..." Quinn cut through the surrounding thorns and approached, his gaze stunned as he saw the unconscious Ann Vaughn in Warren’s arms, "How could the Princess..."
The woman depicted in the painting turned out to be the Princess?!
Judging from the painting alone, Quinn could only admire the solid skills and unique conception of the artist, expressing a sense of broken beauty vividly, a rare exquisite piece.
But when the scene depicted in the painting appeared in reality, and the heroine in the painting turned out to be the First Royal Consort of Gothasen—
Quinn wanted to ask Hugo if he had a death wish?!
Warren raised his eyes indifferently, meeting Hugo’s stunned gaze at the window, a bloodthirsty smile curling at his lips.
"Quinn."
Quinn bowed his head in response, "Sir, I’m here."
"This place offends me greatly; what do you think should be done?"
Hugo’s body stiffened.
Having been by Warren’s side for so long, no one understood better than Quinn what those words meant.
——This house, including everyone inside, cannot be left!
Time passed unknowingly.
A fire broke out in the residential house on the town’s outskirts, the blaze fierce, illuminating the sky with red, threatening to consume everything.
Fortunately, a rain soon fell, barely extinguishing the terrifying fire.
A helicopter landed on flat ground not far from the residence.
A tall, imposing figure jumped down from it, looking toward the burning residence, eyes narrowing, striding forward.
Mark Joyce and Sept immediately followed.
The residence had been charred pitch black, its original appearance unrecognizable, a strong odor of burnt residue assaulting the senses.
The Shadow Guard found two charred bodies in the residence, judging by their forms, they were presumably a man and a woman.
"President Hawthorne, could it be that Miss Vaughn already..." Mark felt a shock within, unwilling to see President Hawthorne’s expression at this moment.
From the moment they identified Ann Vaughn’s exact location, they hadn’t delayed in rushing to Y Country.
Yet they didn’t expect to still be a step too late...
"It’s not her." Cyrus Hawthorne’s cold eyes swept over the two burnt bodies, confirming at a glance that one of them wasn’t Ann Vaughn.
His throat moved slightly, instructing in a deep voice, "Sept, take people to ask around and find out what happened here before."
"Second team, investigate the vehicles and helicopters that came in and out today thoroughly, I want every detail."
"Yes, Family Head."
With that, Cyrus Hawthorne gazed at the collapsing roof of the residence, his eyes seemed to be swirling with a deep dark tide, ready to unleash a tempestuous wave at any moment.
