She Became Rich After Divorce by Georgina Lane

Chapter 334: A Pampered Girl He coldly replied to her words, his deep-set eyes showing no hint of pity, only endless chilliness.

Grandpa was right; how could Abbie have the nerve to cto the Foley mansion? After all, she was the one who had killed his and Cheyenne's child. If it weren't for the fact that she was his lifesaver, Kelvin might have killed her long ago.

As for why Grandpa didn't like her? She knew that too.

In front of Grandpa, displaying her wealth was like teaching a tycoon how to make money.

Grandpa had been a poor boy when he was young. Before marrying Grandma, he had a first love, a girl from a wealthy family. They were separated because the girl's parents disliked the poor and loved the rich.

Since that day, Grandpa vowed to beca superior person. He did it, rising from a man with nothing to the center of power.

Later, when he felt he could start a retirement life, he retired. He made the Foley family becthe richest one in Akloit.

Old Mr. Foley, in his youth, was a ruthless and decisive person with deep calculations. Having seen countless people, he could easily see someone's character just by a glance.

So, he was well aware of what Abbie was thinking and plotting against.

However, he was old now, and as long as it wasn't too much, he could choose to turn a blind eye.

In the second-floor bedroom, knowing that old Mr. Foley hadn't eaten enough, Cheyenne sat in the chair opposite him, casually picking up an apple. With a graceful and steady hand, she used a fruit knife to peel the apple.

Her head slightly lowered, dense, curly eyelashes cast a shadow on her face. Her fair face appeared indifferent, while her movements were obedient and charming.

Old Mr. Foley lay on the bed, sighing deeply. He felt somewhat annoyed. "Cheyenne, you are just too calm. But don't be afraid; I will always stand by your side." "Grandpa, look." Cheyenne suddenly looked up, holding up a long piece of apple peel, offering it to him like a treasure.

Uniform thickness, continuous and intact.

Old Mr. Foley was rendered speechless.

This silly child, did she really think he could be coaxed like a child? When Kelvin entered, Cheyenne had already picked up the second apple to peel. She did it quietly and seriously, as if the thing in her hand wasn't an apple, but a work of art. The scene was static but exceptionally harmonious and warm. Grandpa lay on the bed, eating apples while watching TV. She moved her long and beautiful fingers slowly, not blinking. Kelvin's footsteps unconsciously lightened, afraid of disturbing the two. Involuntarily, he also thought about whether Cheyenne had accompanied Grandpa like this when he wasn't around. He had known her for five years, and it seemed that every tshe had something on her mind, she liked to peel apples. His mind wandered to the past "Honey, letpeel an apple for you." "Don't bother me!" "Oh, sorry, I disturbed you. You're busy, I'll wait for you on the side.” She sat very "considerately" on the sofa away from him, slightly pouting her red lips, earnestly peeling an apple. Cheyenne was exceptionally beautiful, her clean and delicate charm captivating the attention of onlookers as she sat there peeling apples. Kelvin admitted to himself that he enjoyed watching her. However, once he entered work mode, it was as if he had an automatic filter installed, blocking out all external noise, including Cheyenne. After the assistant finished reporting the work, he lifted his head, and the slender figure on the sofa was nowhere to be seen.

The apple, freshly peeled and carved with a loopy "K," had a white, tender, and sweet flesh. The carving technique was exquisite, resembling ancient artworks seen in pictures. Even the assistant couldn't help but praise, "Miss Lawrence's technique is similar to that of a famous artist I've seen, but it's impossible." That master rarely showcased his skills, and each appearance brought a masterpiece. Rumored to be a man in his fifties or sixties, it couldn't possibly be the sperson, as Miss Lawrence was only eighteen or nineteen. Frowning, Kelvin dismissed the assistant. As for the apple, he couldn't remember if he threw it away or ate it. More than two months later, seeing Cheyenne peeling apples again, he was momentarily stunned, recalling the assistant's words.

"Alright, Cheyenne, don't peel anymore. I can't eat anymore." "It's okay, Grandpa. I'm only halfway through." Once she started, she wouldn't choose to stop. Subconsciously, she wanted to carve on the apple again. When she made a decisive cut, a vertical line appeared.

It was her body's instinct.

After all, it took more than a thousand apples to practice this skill. How could she forget it so easily? When Cheyenne realized she had made a mistake, she quickly changed the direction of the blade, attempting to carve a "C." "Hiss..." The sharp blade cut across her fingertip, leaving a three-centimeter deep wound on her fingertip. Fresh blood oozed out, quickly staining the apple red.

Seeing this, old Mr. Foley's face wrinkled with concern. "Cheyenne, be more careful! Stop peeling. Go wash your hands; I'll have someone bring you a band-aid." Cheyenne responded with a faint smile, placing the knife on the table and looking somewhat regretfully at the half-peeled apple.

"It's okay, Grandpa. I'm used to it. This little wound doesn't hurt, and I don't need a band-aid."

Only heaven knew how many times she had cut herself while peeling apples to carve Kelvin's non them. The longest wound extended from the base of her finger, across her entire palm, to her wrist. She had injured her hand, and for over a month, she had been using her left hand to eat. Ironically, this accident improved her left-handed drawing and writing skills. Despite losing so much blood, she still downplayed it as a minor injury.

Kelvin's gaze fell on her hand, and with a stern expression, he walked over, unhesitatingly grabbing her wrist.

"Cwith me." "Kelvin, what are you doing? Let go of me."

As Cheyenne struggled, more blood flowed from her hand. Only then did m he notice another thin scar in the palm of her hand. The mark was faint but discernible on her delicate skin. A wound of this length - how did she get it?

No wonder she dismissed it as a minor injury; having endured numerous om rs, she wouldn't easily be bothered by a little blood.

However, this realization added to Kelvin's self-blame. For three years, he thought Cheyenne led a pampered life after marrying him. It turned out to be far from the truth.

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