Mr. Hawthorne, Your Wife Wants a Divorce Again-Chapter 981: How Should I Punish Her?

Marinia, the crescent moon hung low, and stars were sparse.

At the top of the spire clock tower in the city center.

By the edge of the hollowed railing stood an elegant and noble figure. The cool breeze blew, making his white robes flutter with a rustling sound, starkly contrasting the pitch-black night behind him.

Flutter, flutter——

The faint sound of flapping wings reached his ears, causing him to slightly turn his head and raise his right hand.

A pitch-black bat landed on his arm, with a flash of golden light glinting on its wings.

Warren Vance carelessly poked its head, letting out a light chuckle, "Look, the bride I’ve waited a hundred years for seems to have fallen for another man again."

The bat, seeming to understand, gently touched his finger with its sharp wing, as if to console him.

"Tell me, how should I punish her?" Warren Vance lowered his gaze slightly, his eyes a bewitching shade of dark red like glass, as if possessing an enchanting power.

The bat, naturally, did not respond, only nuzzled his finger ingratiatingly with its wingtip.

The little creature wrapped around Warren Vance’s wrist, Sweetie, bared its teeth fiercely and flicked its tongue, seemingly in threat.

Where did that shameless creature come from? Stay away from my pure as jade master!

Just as the two little creatures were about to clash, Warren Vance let out another soft laugh, supporting his chin as he overlooked the night scene below the clock tower.

After a long while, he sighed lowly, "I had wanted to enjoy this magnificent view with her."

"Alas, what a pity."

His voice, melting into the night wind, carried a hint of coldness. With keen senses of danger, the two little creatures immediately calmed down.

Meanwhile, not far from the clock tower, atop a viewing building.

The view here was excellent, with no buildings obstructing the surroundings, and photographers often came here to capture the night scene.

"Oh my god!" A girl exclaimed in surprise upon inadvertently spotting a silhouette on the clock tower through the camera, "Come here and look! There’s someone on top of the clock tower!"

She said, shyly covering her face, "If just a profile is this handsome, what about the full face?"

Her companion came over at the sound, "There’s someone on the clock tower? Impossible, only repair workers can get up there, and no worker would be up there at night..."

After saying that, her companion glanced through the lens and laughed in frustration, "Are you messing with me? There’s no one! Maybe a ghost is more like it! Stop daydreaming and take photos properly!"

After a few complaints, the companion turned and left.

"Perhaps you didn’t look carefully?" the girl muttered, looking through the lens again, her face turning stiff.

There was no longer a silhouette on the opposite clock tower.

...

Eli Sheridan went to inspect the Sheridan Family’s branch in The Imperial Capital and found out about Ann Vaughn’s unusual behavior only after returning at night from the servants.

Since returning from her morning run, she hadn’t left the room.

She didn’t come down for lunch, and when the servant knocked on the door to inquire, she just said she had no appetite and didn’t want to eat.

The same for dinner.

"What happened today?" Eli Sheridan asked with a frown.

The servants certainly wouldn’t know the reason since Ann Vaughn’s anomaly appeared only after returning to her room.

Eli Sheridan didn’t ask again and went upstairs to knock on Ann Vaughn’s door, "Annie, the servants told me you haven’t eaten all day. Are you feeling unwell? Come out and let brother have a look."

"Brother, I’m not hungry, just want to sleep." After a long silence, Ann Vaughn responded, "I’m okay, just need to sleep."

Her tone was as light and gentle as always, revealing no sign of abnormality.

But Eli Sheridan still sensed something was off, gently coaxing, "I won’t disturb your rest, just want a glance at you. Could you open the door?"

"Really no need, I’m very tired. I’m turning off the lights to sleep, goodnight, brother." Ann Vaughn quickly said, then fell silent.

Hearing the fatigue hidden in her voice, Eli Sheridan said no more, his brow furrowing with worry lingering in his eyes.

Annie’s abnormality, could it be... related to Cyrus Hawthorne again?

Hopefully, she wasn’t hiding in her room crying in secret.

Although worried, Eli Sheridan didn’t want to force Ann Vaughn to open the door, fearing it might make her more upset...

Inside the room.

None of the scenes Eli Sheridan imagined happened.

Ann Vaughn lay on the wool carpet, rubbing her belly. Her red lips parted, letting out a "hic."

Several empty vials of restorative potion were piled at her feet, hinting at what she relied on to get through the day.

Not purely for hunger, but to see if the restorative potion could cure the anomaly on her face.

However, four or five vials down, it proved entirely useless.

Since morning, she couldn’t figure out what was wrong; even with a genetic mutation, it shouldn’t just be her face covered with those things...

"Why is it so hot?"

Ann Vaughn felt utterly lazy, unwilling to move, but managed to lift her head to check the air conditioner, which was already set to the lowest.

Yet instead of feeling cool, waves of heat surged from within as if baking her dry, soon leaving her parched.

Ann Vaughn wanted to lie back down but felt a bone-deep itch, her skin growing hotter, a craving rapidly forming in her mind...

The thought had only just surfaced when Ann Vaughn was shocked.

Why would she think of that?!

About ten minutes later, following Ann Vaughn’s instructions over the phone, a servant placed a bucket of ice at her room door.

Ann Vaughn swiftly opened the door, grabbed the bucket, and shut the door without pause.

Eli Sheridan watched, amused yet concerned.

Her prompt actions suggested she wasn’t physically uncomfortable.

But what did she need so much ice for?

Just then, Hex’s voice rang out from downstairs, "Mr. Sheridan, could you please come to 8? The young master wishes to discuss something with you."

"Kenny’s back?" Eli Sheridan walked to the railing, asking below.

"Yes, though there’s been a small issue, your presence is requested."

Eli Sheridan pondered briefly, "Alright, I’m on my way."

was inherently quiet; after Eli Sheridan left, silence fell even deeper, not a sound to be heard.

The servants, following Eli Sheridan’s orders, dutifully guarded Ann Vaughn’s door without stepping away.

Yet they forgot, sometimes you don’t have to take the main door to enter a room.

Feeling hot, Ann Vaughn had opened the French windows wide, hoping for a breeze to cool her.

Unbeknownst to her, it conveniently allowed a certain someone.

The man stood silently at the window for a few seconds before stepping elegantly inside with long strides.

His dark eyes swept over the carpet where Ann Vaughn had lain, the juice she’d left half-drank, finally resting on the bathroom door through the trail of ice shards on the floor.