Mr. Hawthorne, Your Wife Wants a Divorce Again-Chapter 1059: Switching Sides

Upon hearing this sentence, Chase Tate felt a dull pain in his fat belly again.

"Miss Vaughn, what are you saying." Chase wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and said flatteringly, "I was narrow-minded and petty before, jealous of your Ice Skin Pill making money. It was my fault!"

"I beg you, Miss Vaughn, to forgive me for one time. I swear I’ll never bother you again and will avoid you from now on!"

As he spoke, he even slapped himself twice.

Ann Vaughn had never seen such an act, took a step back, her bright eyes full of suspicion, "What are you really trying to say?"

Chase Tate didn’t seem like someone who would accept defeat just from being kicked once by her.

"I came to give you something in hopes of making up for my previous mistakes." Chase Tate pulled out a USB drive from his pocket, lowering his posture significantly, "This is something Joyce Chancellor gave me a few days ago. The contents are related to you, and if they get out, you might face complete ruin..."

"So, are you trying to threaten me?"

Chase Tate looked panicked, "No, no, no, I’m not that kind of person. I’m just trying to warn you that Joyce Chancellor, President Hawthorne’s former secretary, means you harm, and this is the best evidence of it."

Ann Vaughn glanced at the USB drive in her hand, "You’re giving this to me because you know Joyce Chancellor is now disgraced and are worried I’ll retaliate against her associates like you, so you want to make amends?"

"Miss Vaughn, you’re truly perceptive and wise." Chase smiled, causing the flesh on his face to bunch up, "Those who understand the times are wise indeed, and I comprehend that."

Going against Ann Vaughn is akin to going against Cyrus Hawthorne and the entire Hawthorne Group.

Even a fool would know the stakes, and Chase Tate is no fool.

Ann Vaughn remained silent for a prolonged period, her expression unreadable.

Chase Tate grew anxious and, lowering his voice, laid out his final card, "Miss Vaughn, I was coerced into working for Joyce Chancellor. She’s Deep Blue’s young mistress. How could I defy her? Moreover, I heard something from her concerning you."

"Let’s hear it."

"Joyce Chancellor previously had someone tamper with the assembly toy you bought, creating two mechanisms: One is the ejected components upon opening the box, sharp enough to sever the carotid artery. Two, the toy self-destructs within thirty seconds post-assembly."

An assembly toy?

Ann Vaughn’s eyes widened instantly, the image of Kenny’s injured neck flashing in her mind, her hands at her sides clenching tighter and tighter.

She had suspected Joyce Chancellor but lacked concrete evidence; mere suspicion means nothing.

Yet she hadn’t anticipated—it truly was her—

Could it be that right from Gothasen, Joyce Chancellor deliberately approached her?

Ann Vaughn’s mind whirled, her breathing growing rapid as she raised her eyes to Chase Tate, "You surely know where Joyce Chancellor is now?"

"Of course, but..." Chase Tate chuckled twice, "Does this indicate that you’re willing to let bygones be bygones?"

Ann Vaughn smirked and did not reply.

Half an hour later.

The Crestwood Villa.

Somehow, reporters discovered Joyce Chancellor’s address and camped outside the villa’s gates, staying both day and night without leaving.

Seeing the swarm of reporters below from the window, Joyce Chancellor, in frustration, smashed two precious vases and swept the fruit platter on the table to the floor with a loud crash.

"Miss, please calm down; smashing things won’t solve the problem. Those videos are still online, and at this rate, your reputation will be completely destroyed," Chase Shaw stood at a distance, advising solemnly.

Losing her senses, Joyce Chancellor couldn’t care less, his latter words igniting her anger further.

"How are you handling matters? An entire day and night have passed, yet those videos haven’t been taken down. I’m subjected to public judgment and insults, is this how you perform your duties?!"

"I admit I have shortcomings, but before you act, shouldn’t you inform me, so I can be prepared—"

"Enough!" Joyce Chancellor interrupted him sharply, "You’re just a dog my father raises that can talk. What right do you have to tell me what to do? You take a high salary but neglect your duties, leaving me ridiculed. I’ll have my father fire you the moment we’re back in the country!"

A sudden sense of helplessness rose in Chase Shaw’s heart.

Even a clay figure has some temper, let alone someone clever and capable like Chase Shaw?

He endured Joyce Chancellor for her father’s sake, but now—no man with self-respect can tolerate being called a dog!

"Suit yourself." Chase Shaw’s face turned completely cold, ignoring Joyce Chancellor’s hysterics, he turned and walked away.

Despite her countless curses, Joyce Chancellor couldn’t stop Chase Shaw’s departure, and stood there alone for a long while before finally collapsing onto the living room sofa, falling asleep.

The lights in the living room suddenly dimmed.

Drip, drop. Drip, drop.

An irregular sound of water came from somewhere.

To Joyce Chancellor’s ears, it felt as though her neck was coiled by some cold, slippery creature, producing an inherent fear.

She suddenly opened her eyes, only to find the house in pitch darkness, her limbs unbound yet unable to move.

"Who’s there?!" Joyce Chancellor broke out in a cold sweat, her voice trembling.

No one replied to her within the dark.

Could that person not be here?

Just as Joyce Chancellor relaxed, a piercing sound erupted, and something sharp grazed her neck, flicking red blood flowers.

"Ah—"

The abrupt pain nearly scared Joyce Chancellor out of her wits, wanting to move but unable, her scream echoing throughout the living room.

"What are you crying about?" Suddenly, in the dark, a woman’s voice filled with amusement spoke, "Don’t you enjoy playing tricks behind people’s backs? Then I’ll fulfill your wish, let you experience it yourself."

Hearing the voice, Joyce Chancellor’s eyes flared with rage as she grit out, "Ann Vaughn! How dare you?!"

Ann Vaughn gave a soft laugh, causing Joyce Chancellor to shiver uncontrollably, her lips twitching incessantly, "What exactly are you planning to do?"

"What I’m planning, is it unclear to you?" Ann Vaughn taunted, "You hurt Kenny once, so I’ll repay you tenfold. There are still nine needles left, where do you think they’d best pierce?"

"You lunatic! Aren’t you afraid I’ll report you—"

Ann Vaughn disdained exchanging too many words with her, unleashing her silver needles, letting all nine glide past the most bleed-prone areas of Joyce Chancellor’s body.

Drip, drop. Drip, drop.

The sound resembling drops of water grew more frequent.

Though Joyce Chancellor couldn’t see or move, her hearing became increasingly acute, clearly able to hear the blood flowing from her, dripping to the ground.

One after another, like endless torment.