Chapter 21: So What If We Divorce?

Danielle’s face turned pale, then green, at Cheyenne’s self-deprecating words. “Is that so? He’s blind, after all. To put it simply, you just want my money, don't you? Well then, is ten thousand enough?”

A wicked smile played on Danielle’s lips as she arrogantly withdrew a stack of bills from her limited-edition Dior bag. The bills landed in Cheyenne’s arms.

“Enough, right?”

It’s just a scratch; some merbromin will fix it. And yet I gave them ten thousand. It’s a good deal for Cheyenne, isn’t it? Danielle thought. Just as onlookers prepared to forgive Danielle, Cheyenne sneered.

“Do you think ten thousand dollars is enough?”

“So what else do you want? I’ll add another ten thousand! I understand you just got divorced and are broke.”

The onlookers felt Cheyenne was insatiable; Danielle had increased the payment from $10,000 to $20,000! What more could Cheyenne possibly want? After a moment of silence, a mischievous expression crossed Cheyenne’s beautiful face. Holding a bank card between two slender fingers, she placed it before Danielle.

“Well, Miss Parry. Since you believe money equates to forgiveness, let’s go with that. I’ll offer a million to buy your hand! How about we chop it off right now?”

Chapter 22: A Snap

The air crackled with tension. Everyone stared, disbelieving Cheyenne’s words.

One million to buy a hand?

So cool!

Danielle’s heart pounded. She glared at Cheyenne, saying, “How dare you! I warn you not to mess around!”

Cheyenne took three quick steps forward, grabbing Danielle’s wrist and squeezing hard. A sharp crack—the sound of dislocated bones—sent shivers down everyone’s spines. Danielle’s face turned purple and contorted with pain.

“Cheyenne! You bitch! I’ll kill you!”

Her hand! Her hand was immobile; her palm felt alien. The pain was excruciating, even with the slightest movement.

Is that so? Do you have double standards? Besides, with your hand being worth a million, shouldn’t you be happy?

Enraged, Danielle retorted, “I only scratched the back of his hand! But you twisted my wrist!”

“It’s a fair price. You offered ten thousand, but I gave you a million. And do you know who he is?”

The onlookers leaned in, curious about the handsome young man. Then, Cheyenne’s proud voice rang out in Danielle’s ear.

“He’s Benson Gibbs!”

A moment of stunned silence followed, then an excited exclamation: “Isn’t he the one who became famous at fifteen as a pianist and won the Chopin International Piano Competition at eighteen?”

Benson Gibbs was a renowned figure—a teenage genius who became a professor at Udan Royal College of Music at eighteen and even performed for the Queen on her sixtieth birthday. In recent years, however, he had mysteriously disappeared. No one knew he had lost his sight.

Three years prior, Benson was to compete in a piano competition he would have easily won. But Cheyenne had been accidentally poisoned, and Benson forfeited the competition to save her. Even now, the memory brought Cheyenne to tears.

If this young man was indeed Benson, scratching his hand was a heinous act; his hands were priceless.

Danielle’s jaw dropped. A chill ran down her spine.

“No! It’s impossible! How could a blind man be Benson Gibbs? If he’s Benson, then I’m Lola Harper.”

Lola Harper, the globally famous singer whose song, "He's Like a God," had made her a worldwide sensation, rivaling even Benson's fame. Extremely private, she rarely appeared publicly, each appearance creating a sensation. Her signature silver fox mask had even sparked a mask fashion trend and cosplay craze. For three years, her agency had announced she was focusing on songwriting.

Danielle’s comparison to Lola had drawn considerable criticism.

"Who does she think she is, comparing herself to my idol? Have you seen her looks?"

"Not only that, but her nouveau riche attitude pales in comparison to my goddess!"

"She’s so delusional. Can’t even see how ugly she is."

As Benson and Cheyenne’s anger grew, nearby fans began insulting Danielle. Bewildered, she stammered, “I… I just wanted to say he’s not really Benson.”

But before she could continue, a man’s voice called from behind.

“Mr. Gibbs, it’s been a long time. I didn’t expect you to accept my invitation and come listen to some music.”

Everyone turned. A foreign man in a black tuxedo, long tailcoat, white shirt, red bow tie, and wide-brimmed black hat, elegantly approached Benson. He removed his hat, placing it on his chest before bowing.

“Mr. James, no need to be polite. I came with a friend,” Benson replied, extending his hand.

Their interaction shocked everyone. Mr. James, a world-renowned opera artist often featured in magazines, had addressed the blind man as “Mr. Gibbs”!