Chapter 100: The Foley Family History

Layne told Cheyenne about the art exhibition the next morning. Without a word, he urged her to get up and get dressed quickly so they could go together. Cheyenne, however, was reluctant. She'd been rushing between the Todd mansion and the Lawrence Villa for days since recovering from a serious illness and was exhausted.

"Cheyenne, could you possibly let me go to the exhibition alone?" Her grandfather's voice, mournful and pitiful, crackled over the phone.

"I can," Cheyenne replied.

Before she hung up, her grandfather continued, "Alas, old age is truly pitiful. I can't drive or even ride an electric bike."

"Forget it," Layne said. "I'll take a bus."

Cheyenne worried he'd get lost using public transportation. Throwing back her covers, she slipped on her slippers and said, "Okay. Wait for me at the Lawrence Villa's doorstep in twenty minutes. I'll be ready soon."

Instantly, Layne's voice brightened. "I knew you're a filial granddaughter! Actually, I'm already in the lobby; you were still asleep!"

The Foley Villa:

The grand hall was empty. Old Mr. Foley stared at the garden flowers for a while, then, leaning on his cane, returned to the sofa and picked up a newspaper. He quickly lost interest; they were all articles he'd already read.

He muttered, "It's livelier when Cheyenne's here. At least she'll play chess with me."

Kelvin was too busy; they rarely played. Corey, notoriously bad at chess, was another poor choice of opponent. The thought of Cheyenne made him miss her even more. If Kelvin hadn't divorced her, he might have welcomed a great-grandchild by year's end!

Just then, his son Corey entered, handsome but sorrowful, in a black suit, holding a red invitation.

"Father," Corey greeted, starting towards the stairs.

"Stop and sit down," Old Mr. Foley interrupted, waving a hand.

Corey obeyed, feeling like a schoolboy scolded by a teacher, which only further annoyed his father.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.

Honestly, how could Corey not be afraid? As a child, he'd been scolded and beaten repeatedly. Even after marriage, he'd often been summoned to the family shrine for punishment. Fortunately, after Kelvin's birth, Old Mr. Foley focused his attention and methods on him. The boy proved talented and thrived under his grandfather's rigorous tutelage. Gradually, Kelvin stopped fearing his grandfather and even surpassed him in some areas.

"I'm not afraid, Father; I respect you," Corey replied softly.

Old Mr. Foley sneered, disappointed, wishing Corey would show more backbone.

"Your greatest achievement is probably fathering Kelvin," he said coldly.

Pride mixed with shame flickered across Corey's face. "You're right, Father; I'm satisfied with Kelvin."

"Enough about him. How's your wife?" Old Mr. Foley asked.

Corey's wife had been in a vegetative state for years, and he'd been caring for her abroad. Five years had flown by! [The following sentence was removed as it is an advertisement]

Old Mr. Foley wanted to convey that if there was no hope of recovery, they should return home. Staying abroad was lonely and isolating.

Corey, emotional, shook his head. "She's the same."

Old Mr. Foley tapped his cane. "Come home."

Corey hesitated, saying he'd consider it; he was still seeking expert medical help.

"Oh, and your younger brother? I spoke with him yesterday; he and his family are returning home," Old Mr. Foley added.

"Franklin?"

Franklin Foley, a year younger than Corey. Five years ago, a tragedy struck. Kelvin's mother fell down the stairs, becoming a vegetable, while Franklin's wife, Lucy, was found dead in a pool of blood. No one witnessed the event. The room's surveillance system was destroyed. The security guard claimed intoxication; a breathalyzer test confirmed a blood alcohol content of 70%. He was fired and left Akloit.

Franklin blamed Kelvin's mother, causing a rift between the families. Old Mr. Foley remained neutral, disheartening Franklin, who left the country with his two children. Three years ago, Kelvin married; Franklin sent a gift but didn't attend. Old Mr. Foley recently learned that Franklin and his children were struggling in Metshire, living in cramped quarters and unable to afford their son's education.

Franklin's son, Vincent Foley, a year younger than Kelvin, had a good education in Chulae, but his life afterward had been difficult. Accustomed to privilege, he struggled to adapt. Franklin's daughter, who turned eighteen that year, had her education disrupted by her mother's death and the move abroad.