Mr. Hawthorne, Your Wife Wants a Divorce Again-Chapter 954: Vermilion Mole

Ann Vaughn kept talking while snuggling in Cyrus Hawthorne’s arms, clinging to him like a little sloth with all four limbs.

But her right hand was weak, and relying solely on her left hand for support, her arm soon lost strength, and she slid down from Cyrus’s body in a pitiful manner.

Cyrus couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, raising his hand to support her backside, preventing the little sloth from completely slipping off.

"Why am I all..." As she spoke, Ann sniffed herself with her nose and then loudly exclaimed, "Why do I smell like alcohol all over?"

"You drank all of Grandpa’s peach blossom wine and you ask why?" Cyrus lightly flicked her forehead, his voice full of helplessness. "Take a bath first, the smell will go away after bathing."

Ann let out a small hiccup, vaguely nodded, "Alright, alright."

With her permission, Cyrus picked her up and headed to the bathroom.

The bathtub was filled with hot water, and the rising mist filled the space, blurring the lights, making everything within sight seem veiled in a layer of gauze.

Cyrus went to the adjacent bedroom to fetch a set of clothes for Ann Vaughn and saw her lying on the edge of the bathtub, her head drooping as if about to fall in.

He moved quickly, catching her just a second before she would have fallen into the tub.

"Planning to drown yourself?" Cyrus’s voice was a few degrees colder as he looked at Ann Vaughn’s wet dark hair over her shoulders, frowning.

Even if the water in the bathtub couldn’t drown someone, Ann was very drunk, and falling in would surely cause her to choke.

Ann hadn’t realized what had just happened. Upon seeing Cyrus, her eyes sparkled, "Why are you here?"

Cyrus’s expression remained slightly cold, his lips pressed lightly together, ignoring her.

Unexpectedly, Ann pointed at the bathtub and said, "I thought you were in there, I was just about to look for you!"

Cyrus: "..."

Why bother reasoning with a little drunkard?

"The clothes are on the rack for you. I’ll wait for you outside." As he spoke, Cyrus remembered what had just happened, his brows furrowed deeply, "Forget it, I’ll find a maid to help you bathe, you stay here obediently and don’t move."

Leaving Ann here alone, who knew what might happen.

Ann hiccuped and clutched Cyrus’s hand, refusing to let go, her watery eyes filled with confusion, "Can’t you help me bathe?"

Cyrus’s narrow eyes deepened, like the sea suddenly darkening, brewing an unsettling dark undercurrent.

"You want me to help you bathe?" He asked her with a gentle curve of his thin lips.

"Yes, yes! I like you better!" She unguardedly revealed her feelings.

Like him?

The smile on Cyrus’s lips deepened, it seemed the little one was far more honest after drinking.

Half an hour later.

In the bathroom, the steam made Ann’s cheeks flush and her drunken eyes grew more misty.

Her mind was like a kaleidoscope, making everything she saw swirl around.

When Cyrus carried her out, her eyelids drooped, all her earlier liveliness gone.

"You should sleep now, hmm?" Seeing her clinging tightly to him, refusing to let go, Cyrus coaxed softly.

"No, don’t want to." Ann’s voice grew weaker, forcing her eyes open, fighting to stay awake.

Cyrus gazed at her, his palm gently stroking her silky long hair, offering a sense of comfort, "Be good."

His embrace was too warm, and even in her current hazy state, Ann was reluctant to leave his arms.

The hidden, locked door in her heart slightly loosened.

"Can’t sleep." Ann’s taut nerves slightly relaxed, murmuring, "If I fall asleep... I’ll dream..."

They weren’t particularly scary dreams.

But each time she would be startled awake by everything in her dreams.

Following that came a paralyzing weakness in her heart, similar to a drowning person, with a lifeline just ahead, yet no matter how hard she reached, she couldn’t grasp it.

That’s how she spent a whole night in despair.

Only with the break of dawn could she regain life, until night came again.

Struggling to hold on, Ann heard Cyrus sigh softly, then he lay on the soft bed behind them, holding her.

He turned slightly, with one arm around her waist and another on her back, enveloping her in an absolutely possessive embrace.

Ann blinked slowly in a daze.

"Sleep now." Cyrus’s voice was low and soft, "This time it’ll be a good dream."

"But what if it’s still a bad dream?" Ann asked softly.

Recalling something Ann had said a long time ago, Cyrus smiled, "If someone bullies you in the dream, I’ll come save you."

It might have been hard to convince a sober Ann, but for a little drunkard, it was much easier.

True to form, Ann believed and nodded, "Then you must come."

"I will."

With this assurance, Ann finally closed her eyes contentedly, succumbing to sleep and soon fell into a deep slumber.

The darkness in her dreams dissipated, sunlight shone brightly, and fields of white roses swayed in the wind.

Though Cyrus’s figure wasn’t present in her dream, his presence was everywhere.

...

For some unknown reason, before dawn the next day, Ann developed a high fever, fell unconscious, and was rushed to the hospital overnight.

The test results showed there was nothing abnormal with her body, the fever wasn’t severe either, but the cause of her coma was unclear and required further observation.

Due to Cyrus’s status, the doctors dared not be negligent and were at the highest alert.

Finally, around eight in the morning, Ann’s fever subsided, and she slowly woke up.

Smelling the faint scent of disinfectant in the air, Ann frowned slightly, her eyes scanning her surroundings.

Just as she was about to speak, her throat felt as dry as a parched riverbed, almost catching fire.

"Mommy, you’re awake?" Little Dumpling ran over with a thermos, put it down, and quickly poured a glass of light saltwater, "Mommy, drink some water first."

With Little Dumpling’s help, Ann drank the entire glass of light saltwater, which helped soothe her throat a bit.

"Why am I in the hospital?" Ann propped herself up and asked in confusion.

"Mommy had a high fever last night and was unconscious, almost scaring Kenny and Daddy to death." Little Dumpling leaned on the side of the bed, looking at Ann with big worried eyes, "Mommy, does your head still hurt? Is your body still uncomfortable?"

Just after asking, Little Dumpling noticed a small vermillion mole at the corner of Mommy’s eye that hadn’t been there before.