Chapter 583: Father’s News
Adrian Hawthorne’s expression changed slightly. There was only one family with the surname Spann in the entire village—Jacqueline Spann’s. How could she have a letter from Tristone?
"Maybe she has relatives in Tristone," Adrian Hawthorne said casually.
The postman nodded. "That’s what the little girl said, a relative. Well, I’m off now. Thanks for the tea."
"You’re welcome. Take care!"
Adrian Hawthorne saw the postman off, his expression pensive. Phoenix Golding’s family definitely had no relatives in Tristone; otherwise, she would have been bragging about it everywhere long ago. Vernon Spann wasn’t from Tristone, either. Adrian had heard he was from some small county in Anvera Province.
’Where did this Tristone relative of Jacqueline Spann’s come from?’
Unable to figure it out for the moment, Adrian Hawthorne put it out of his mind and opened the letter from Aston Marsh. It was two pages long. Aston Marsh wrote that he had suggested to the factory director that they pivot to making jacquard towels, but the director found it too troublesome and refused. Aston Marsh was very frustrated; if the towel factory didn’t undergo reforms, he feared it would truly go under.
Aston Marsh vented his frustrations in the letter, not treating Adrian Hawthorne like a child in the slightest. In his mind, Adrian was no different from an adult. On the second page, Aston Marsh brought up Adrian’s father, whom he had asked people to inquire about over the past few days.
"Your dad is quite famous in Tristone. He runs a huge business, specializing in wholesale fabrics and electronics. People even come down from the north to source goods from him. He was still doing retail a couple of years ago, but now it’s all wholesale. Everyone calls him Boss Hawthorne. He has a female assistant who is very close to your dad, and everyone calls her Mrs. Hawthorne. Listen, Adrian, you’d better go find your dad soon. Otherwise, once that assistant has a child, things will get complicated!"
This was Aston Marsh speaking from the heart. It’s normal for men to fool around on the side. To be honest, he’d done it himself on business trips in the past. It wasn’t that he’d grown tired of his wife; it was more like, if you eat the same dish all the time, you’ll eventually get sick of it and want a change of pace.
But he knew where to draw the line. Fooling around was one thing, but he would never divorce his wife. She had given him two sons, helped care for his parents, and managed the household. Even though her temper had gotten worse over the years, he was still grateful to her. His wife was the one he’d spend the rest of his life with, and that was a line he was careful not to cross.
But Ethan Hawthorne was different. That man had completely abandoned his wife and child, living the high life while they suffered. He earned so much money yet never thought to send any back, not even a single word. He was as heartless as Xue Pinggui from the old opera, who left his wife Wang Baochuan to languish in a miserable dwelling for eighteen years. People say Wang Baochuan’s suffering eventually paid off, that Xue Pinggui was a loyal and honorable man who didn’t forget the wife of his humble days after becoming emperor and even made her his empress.
But Wang Baochuan was empress for only eighteen days before she died. If you really think about it, one day of glory for each year of suffering—that was the extent of Xue Pinggui’s "loyalty and honor."
Aston Marsh felt a great deal of sympathy for Adrian Hawthorne and his mother, and he utterly despised Ethan Hawthorne. ’What a scumbag.’ Even if Adrian’s mother had gotten old and ugly, how could he just ignore them for four years?
’A real piece of shit!’
Aston Marsh also reminded him, "That female assistant is ambitious; she’s definitely trying to push your mother out and take her place. Your dad has earned so much money—you can’t just let that little homewrecker get her hands on it. You need to get to Tristone and make him acknowledge you. I found his address for you; it’s written at the bottom!"
Adrian Hawthorne saw the address at the bottom of the letter, which had been deliberately circled. It was very familiar, because Rosalind Green often talked about this small villa. It was where his family had once lived, over on Stillwater Road. He had a vague memory of it, but he had been too young at the time and couldn’t recall much.
"Mr. Hawthorne, what did Uncle Aston write?" Tang Xiaonan sensed that Adrian Hawthorne was not in a good mood.