Mr. Hawthorne, Your Wife Wants a Divorce Again-Chapter 988: She Couldn’t Handle It Anymore

However, the Lockwood Family overlooked one point: no matter how their other clients consumed the anti-aging pill, taking two pills a day wouldn’t save them from the nightmare of terrible skin.

Then what about those wealthy ladies who treated the Anti-aging Pill like candies?

Their faces almost ruined, they didn’t dare to step outside.

All day long, the Lockwood Family’s phone didn’t stop ringing. Lucy Lock was cursed out and had to suppress her anger, apologizing and explaining to each one, promising to take full responsibility.

"How much is your ’sorry’ worth?! Now my face is ruined, and when my husband saw me like this, he immediately said he wants a divorce! Can your few sorries make up for that?!"

"Lucy Lock, you just wait. If my face doesn’t get better, I’ll make sure you get disfigured with me!"

"You better hope that my face can be treated at the Vaughn Clinic, otherwise if I don’t have it good, neither will your whole family!"

Amidst the angry curses, Lucy Lock hung up the phone, her face livid, "A bunch of lunatics!"

And that little witch Ann Vaughn!

She had deliberately used a fake formula to lure her in!

She had people test the formula’s authenticity repeatedly, but still, she fell into that little witch’s trap!

The Lockwood Family’s years of hard-earned connections were completely destroyed overnight!

Lucy Lock took out a potion from the drawer and swallowed it, finally calming down a bit. She turned to the servant beside her with a stern face and asked, "Where is Zane Lancaster?"

"Ma’am, the Second Young Master just returned from the trial room and is now resting upstairs."

Resting?

Lucy Lock’s face turned grim, and she tapped her index finger on the table twice before a sinister smile crept up her lips.

"Go tell him that I’m in Finn Morgan’s room, and ask him to come and see me."

"Yes, ma’am."

...

In less than half a day, Zane Lancaster’s "gift" was indeed delivered to Ann Vaughn.

The customers whose faces were damaged by the Anti-aging Pill all rushed to the Vaughn Clinic for treatment. Some were willing to pay a hefty price to buy an appointment number from someone ahead in line, just to get treated sooner.

And the Ice Skin Pill sold out once again.

However, the condition of these customers’ faces was far beyond Ann Vaughn’s expectations.

The formula she had people leak to the Lockwood Family was fake; it was supposed to at most cause skin dullness, which would recover once they stopped taking it.

But among these customers, some had severe conditions with faces covered in red spots, bleeding lightly upon touch, resembling disfigurement.

She couldn’t fathom how Lucy Lock had become a pharmacist without knowing that combining Dragon Beard Root and Sutureshadow would cause skin sensitivity and spots?

Some cases of allergy weren’t too severe and could be reduced by taking Ice Skin Pill for two days.

But the severe ones required medication to alleviate.

There were so many of these clients that Ann Vaughn was exhausted by the time she returned to No. 8 at dusk.

Cyrus Hawthorne had also been very busy lately. Except for breakfast, he was nowhere to be seen, not even a trace.

While relieved, Ann Vaughn couldn’t help feeling a little lost.

She’d gotten used to waiting for a while at No. 8 first, then returning to No. 16 when he didn’t show up.

"Others are in relationships, I’m dealing with brainwaves, sustaining emotions with sheer willpower." Ann Vaughn muttered as she walked into the living room, rubbing her sore shoulder.

Just when she was about to step in, she was stopped by someone.

"Oh, it’s you, Miss Vaughn." Sept greeted her with a smile. "Are you here to see Mr. Hawthorne?"

Ann Vaughn took a couple of steps back, puzzled, and looked at him with a frown, "Yes, is there something I shouldn’t see inside?"

Cold sweat ran down Sept’s forehead. Before he could respond, a low voice sounded from inside.

"Annie, come in."

Ann Vaughn hesitated for a second before stepping inside.

That strong smell of blood had faded considerably, but traces were still visible on the white floor, like bloodstains not yet cleaned, and...

the trembling familiar figure kneeling on the ground.

Ann Vaughn raised her eyes, looking bewildered at Cyrus Hawthorne on the sofa, and asked in confusion, "Why is Ryan Wyatt here?"

Once, Warren Vance, thinking she was asleep, had Ryan Wyatt come into her room with a bunch of weird stuff, whirling around like some shaman.

Ann had been so scared back then, thinking he was possessed or something.

That impression was etched in her memory, so she recognized him instantly.

Hearing Ann Vaughn’s voice, Ryan Wyatt trembled even more, not daring to lift his head.

He had guessed why this man had pulled him out of the dungeon and brought him here.

Nothing good, for sure!

Cyrus Hawthorne raised his arm slightly, taking Ann Vaughn’s hand, and pulled her to sit on his lap, wrapping her in his arms.

Ann Vaughn’s scalp tingled.

No matter how close she had been with Cyrus in private before, being held on his lap in front of so many people—

She simply couldn’t handle it.

"Why do you have to hold me?" Ann Vaughn’s earlobes turned crimson as she whispered a complaint in his ear.

Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips curved slightly, and his arms tightened, pressing her slender back against his chest, almost embedding her entire being into his body.

"This is interest."

"?? What kind of interest?"

"You’ll find out soon enough." He pinched her slightly pouting cheek, then coldly said to the trembling Ryan Wyatt near his feet, "You know the consequences of not doing what I say."

Ryan Wyatt swallowed hard. "I-I know, I will do my utmost to remove the psychological suggestion for... for Miss Vaughn!"

This man could come and go from the dungeons of the Gothasen Royal City as he pleased, and even his Puppetry Technique didn’t work on him, what more could he do?

He still wanted to live.

"So it was you who planted the psychological suggestion on me?!" Ann Vaughn turned her head, glaring at Ryan, "What was the purpose of the 319 Exile Dossier? Why did you make this suggestion on me?"

With the mention of the "319 Exile Dossier," the atmosphere in the living room became suddenly tense.

Sept and Hex exchanged a shocked glance before lowering their heads.

Ryan Wyatt was about to answer when he felt an icy gaze filled with murderous intent, causing a cold sweat to break out on his back.

The psychological suggestion Warren Vance had him place on Ann Vaughn, he knew all too well how it posed a threat to Cyrus Hawthorne.

He had no doubt if he dared to speak the truth, he would die on the spot the next second.

Cyrus Hawthorne’s indifferent expression remained unchanged, only his deep black eyes flashing with an almost imperceptible dark glint.

And Ann Vaughn, with her back to him, focused all her attention on the detestable Ryan Wyatt, oblivious to the change.

"B-because your origins were unknown at the time, without any identity information," Ryan Wyatt hunkered down as he replied, "His Highness speculated you might be an exile, so he wanted to guide you to investigate on your own."