She Became Rich After Divorce
Chapter 359: Cunning

Chapter 359: Cunning

Cheyenne's sharp-tongued yet caring nature was something Iker had become accustomed to. He simply smiled and didn't respond, content with the quiet moment they were sharing. He wished time could slow down a bit, as his recovery meant he would soon have to leave the villa, and he cherished these moments with Cheyenne.

However, their peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by the arrival of old Mr. Foley and Joe, who came bearing gifts. Cheyenne greeted them with surprise and enthusiasm, rising from her seat to embrace old Mr. Foley's arm.

'Grandfather, why have you come?' Cheyenne asked, clearly delighted. Old Mr. Foley looked healthier than before, dressed in a black jacket, and his complexion had improved significantly. He had a hearty smile on his face.

Joe, still in his uniform, followed behind and politely greeted Cheyenne. 'Miss Lawrence, sorry to disturb you.'

'No, not at all, Grandfather and Joe, please have a seat. Let me get some water for you,' Cheyenne replied and hurriedly made her way to the kitchen, her steps light and cheerful.

Old Mr. Foley was worried she might fall and reminded her, 'Cheyenne, take your time; I'm not thirsty.' But her figure had disappeared behind the door.

With a knowing smile, old Mr. Foley turned his attention to the young man standing nearby, observing him intently. He compared him to his eldest grandson in his mind, noting that this young man was slightly taller and had a darker complexion. Iker felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny, subtly adjusting his posture.

Breaking the awkward silence, old Mr. Foley asked Iker with a smile, 'Does Master Iker live here?'

Iker's heart raced, unsure if old Mr. Foley's question was casual or if he had set a trap for him.

Old Mr. Foley continued to smile, his gaze shifting to the cartoon fruit platter on the table. He teased, 'Young man, was that so difficult to answer?'

Iker finally raised his head to meet the older man's gaze and calmly explained, 'I apologize, old Mr. Foley. I was lost in thought. My house caught fire, so I rented a room on the second floor from Miss Lawrence.'

With a snort of disapproval, old Mr. Foley made his dissatisfaction clear. 'Given your background, even staying in the presidential suite for a month is a trivial matter.'

Iker was left speechless.

As Cheyenne returned from the kitchen with two glasses of water, she saw the two men sitting together, chatting and seemingly getting along well. She thought they were having a pleasant first meeting. 'Grandfather, Master Iker. What are you discussing so happily?' she asked. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Old Mr. Foley chuckled, his face radiating warmth and affection as he responded to Cheyenne's question. 'You know I'm very interested in the military, my dear, so I'm chatting with Master Iker about his military experiences. I really like this young man. Cheyenne, if you want to date him, I'll support you.'

Cheyenne quickly intervened to prevent old Mr. Foley from playing matchmaker. 'Grandfather, please don't make things up. Master Iker and I are just friends.'

Friends?

After exchanging a few words with Cheyenne, old Mr. Foley requested that Iker excuse himself for a moment as he had something to discuss with her. Iker agreed, though curious about what the old man wanted to say.

In the hall, Cheyenne and old Mr. Foley were left alone. She asked, 'Grandfather, is there something you want to talk about?'

'Of course, Joe, bring the items,' old Mr. Foley replied.

Following the old man's instructions, Joe fetched one of the gift boxes, removed its outer packaging, and presented it to Cheyenne with an air of mystery.

'Miss Lawrence, please.'

Cheyenne was taken aback. 'Why all the secrecy? Is this something valuable?'

Cheyenne extended her delicate fingers and unlocked the box. As she opened it, her eyes widened in shock.

Inside the large red velvet-lined gift box lay an assortment of golden needles, each one shining and unique in size, shape, and form. The extravagance and value of the gift were evident. With over a hundred pure gold needles, the set was worth several million dollars. The gift was far too precious.

Cheyenne sighed and closed the lid before pushing the box back towards old Mr. Foley, declining his generous offer. 'Grandfather, this gift is too precious. I can't accept it.'

Anticipating her refusal, old Mr. Foley firmly returned the box to her and spoke earnestly. 'Cheyenne, in fact, these needles were not from me. Kelvin invited the Master Melvin, to create them. Each of these golden needles is one of a kind. Are you sure you don't want them?'

Master goldsmith Melvin was renowned for his exceptional craftsmanship. Under his skillful hands, even the ugliest lump of gold would transform into a lifelike work of art. He was well-known for his talent and had a rather haughty personality. Cheyenne remembered visiting him years ago to learn his techniques, and he had been quite proud.

Kelvin must have spent a considerable amount to persuade Melvin to work on this project. But why did he go to such lengths? Was it merely to express his gratitude for Cheyenne saving old Mr. Foley?

Uncertain about whether to accept the gift, Cheyenne was interrupted by old Mr. Foley's astonishment when he noticed a painting in the corner of the room.

'Cheyenne, how did this painting end up here?' he exclaimed.

Suddenly, old Mr. Foley recalled a scene from many years ago. Kelvin, who had sworn never to touch a paintbrush, was secretly painting in the study.

Once he snapped out of his reverie, he cast a glance at the painting, then back at Cheyenne, and began to speak. 'Cheyenne, would you like to hear the story behind this painting?'

Cheyenne felt a hint of disdain. What story could there possibly be behind an abandoned painting? Even if it depicted her, she had no interest in hearing about it. Those were all things of the past. Nevertheless, compelled by old Mr. Foley's storytelling voice, she found herself reluctantly becoming an audience.

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