She Became Rich After Divorce
Chapter 330: You Are In Position To Control Me

Chapter 330: You Are in Position to Control Me

In this 39-degree weather, what she wears is her freedom. Nowadays, young girls tend to wear a tank top with hot pants. Cheyenne felt that her outfit was already conservative.

"Mr. Foley, we are already divorced. You are in no position to tell me what to wear. Think I'm embarrassing? Then why did you invite me?"

Did Kelvin think she, Cheyenne, was very good-tempered? Hearing her emphasize it, Kelvin felt a surge of anger, feeling both stifled and uncomfortable.

The confrontation between the two was a perplexing act in Franklin's eyes. Cheyenne disliked Kelvin, so why did she agree to come and help treat old Mr. Foley? He thought perhaps there was a tendency for them to remarry, but now it seemed their relationship was still as contentious as ever, with remarriage a distant prospect.

Of course, this was the result Franklin was most happy to see. Otherwise, dealing with Kelvin and involving Cheyenne and Layne would be a headache.

In the midst of their argument, old Mr. Foley gradually woke up. He struggled to open his tightly closed eyes, his gaze blurred. When he recognized Cheyenne among the blurry figures, he was moved to tears. He reached out his frail hand and grabbed her wrist, his voice hoarse.

"Cheyenne... Cheyenne, you're here. I... I thought you, you were mad at me."

Seeing his weak appearance, Cheyenne felt her nose tingled. She allowed old Mr. Foley to hold her hand, consoling him softly, "Grandpa, take good care of yourself. I will cure you."

Previously, she couldn't promise to save old Mr. Foley, but now having mastered the Thirteen Needles, her chances of success were greater than before.

Emelia, watching this heartwarming scene, felt a lot of resentment and jealousy. Adrian, embarrassed after being slapped in the face, stood aside. He exchanged a glance with Vincent, who shook his head, indicating that he shouldn't act recklessly.

This brief eye contact did not escape Kelvin's eyes. He was slightly surprised to see that Vincent and Adrian... didn't seem like they had just met recently.

"Now that old Mr. Foley has awakened, I'm no longer needed here. There are some matters I need to attend to; allow me to take my leave."

He politely bid farewell to everyone and turned to leave.

"Dad, I'll see Mr. Edwards off."

Vincent followed Adrian out of the bedroom.

Old Mr. Foley had awakened, gripping Cheyenne's hand tightly to prevent her from leaving. Tears welled up in his eyes as he expressed his concern about what would happen if she left and he had another episode at night. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

"Grandpa, it won't happen. I've prescribed medicine. As long as you take it, you won't have an episode in the short term. Next week, I'll bring a treatment plan to see how you're doing." She needed to go back and check on Master Iker.

Although her own grandpa was watching over and there shouldn't be any major issues, staying in the Foley mansion made her feel strange, especially with Emelia openly targeting her.

Kelvin's face darkened as he noticed Cheyenne's hesitant expression, suddenly thinking of another possibility.

The reason Cheyenne didn't want to stay wasn't just because of him; it was likely she was still concerned about someone else.

Even though she said so, old Mr. Foley still didn't want to let go of her hand. "Cheyenne, your room stays unchanged. Stay for one night and have dinner."

"Just consider it as keeping me company."

The pleading look in the old man's eyes softened Cheyenne's heart. A faint hint of softness appeared on her cold face as she nodded slightly.

"Alright, but I need to make a call to my grandpa first, so he won't worry about me."

"Go ahead."

She agreed to stay, and old Mr. Foley was overjoyed. Even the dull pain in his chest seemed to lighten. At the same time, the corners of Kelvin's tightly pursed lips couldn't help but curve slightly, revealing his current good mood.

Suddenly, old Mr. Foley's voice, a bit hoarse, echoed in their ears.

"Kelvin, take Cheyenne to her room and see if there's anything she needs to prepare."

He was about to respond with a "sure," but Cheyenne ruthlessly interrupted him. The young girl looked at him with calm eyes and said, her lips slightly parted, "Mr. Foley, you don't need to trouble yourself. I'll speak directly with Joe."

Joe, named by Cheyenne, clasped his hands in front of him. Upon hearing Cheyenne's words, he smiled and nodded, "Miss Lawrence, just give me your orders when you're in need."

Kelvin's mood suddenly felt like riding a roller coaster, plummeting in an instant.

Was she this impatient to even talk to him?

Old Mr. Foley, now awake, insisted on having dinner with Cheyenne. He joined the table full of delicacies but, weakened as he was, could only drink the plain congee. Cheyenne told him it was because he had just woken up, and heavy, greasy food was not suitable.

Old Mr. Foley smacked his lips, full of envy. His pitiful appearance was far from that of a seventy-year-old man; he looked more like a child in kindergarten.

Cheyenne chuckled inwardly, comforting him, "Grandpa, have the congee first. When you're feeling a bit better tomorrow morning, I'll make chicken soup for you."

Hearing that she would make chicken soup, old Mr. Foley finally became happy, eagerly drinking the congee in his bowl.

"That would be wonderful, Cheyenne. It's been a long time since you made soup for me."

Blame Kelvin for this! If it weren't for him, every time Cheyenne visited, she would bring delicious chicken soup or some tasty snacks. Since she moved out of the Foley mansion, he hadn't tasted that again. Cheyenne can make chicken soup?

Kelvin raised an eyebrow, recalling something from a long time ago. The first time he drank the chicken soup she made, he almost spat it out. There was blood in the bowl, and it tasted fishy and salty. He put it down after just one sip, forbidding her from entering the kitchen to torment his stomach again.

Emelia, biting her spoon, sneered disdainfully, her eyes full of disgust for Cheyenne.

"Just chicken soup? I can make it too. If Grandpa wants to drink it, I'll make it. Miss Lawrence is a guest; we shouldn't bother her."

With Emelia's words, the atmosphere at the dinner table turned tense. Cheyenne, however, continued to eat elegantly, as if she hadn't heard Emelia's words, infuriating the latter who stomped her foot. "Emelia, I also see Cheyenne as my granddaughter. If you keep talking like this, don't blame me for punishing you."

Old Mr. Foley spoke first, displeased.

"Emelia, eat your meal. Can't you shut up?"

Franklin also glared at her, feeling extremely regretful. Look at Cheyenne, younger than Emelia by several years, and yet outstanding. As for Emelia... Let's not even mention it!

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