Chapter 22: A Slap in the Face

It meant the young man was the world-famous pianist, Benson Gibbs. Mr. James also saw Cheyenne standing beside Benson, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Lo…” Mr. James began, but Cheyenne interrupted him. Reaching out to shake his hand, she smiled and said, “I’m Benson’s friend. My last name is Lawrence.”

Clearly, this straightforward foreigner didn't understand why Cheyenne was hiding her identity as Lora. However, he didn't expose her.

“Three years ago, Mr. Gibbs helped me revise my piece of music. Otherwise, ‘Don Juan’ wouldn’t be a hit.”

This traditional classical piece, popular in the past, might seem depressing today. Benson cleverly changed the instrumentation and simplified some of the more difficult parts. The style remained unchanged, but the result was smoother and more captivating.

After achieving worldwide fame, Mr. James had always wanted to thank Benson, so he chose Benson's country for the final stop of his tour. Benson, the composer of "Don Juan," further excited opera lovers. The male god stood before them!

In contrast, Danielle’s face was pale. ‘It was all Cheyenne’s doing. She intentionally set me up!’ Danielle thought indignantly.

Cheyenne turned to her, a mocking smile on her lips. “Now, do you still think losing your broken wrist for one million was a loss?”

“Just wait, I won’t let you get away with this!” Danielle retorted angrily, leaving in embarrassment.

“Just a friendly reminder: if you don’t get your hand fixed soon, it might be useless in the future. Hahaha.” Cheyenne’s laughter echoed, like a fox that had stolen grapes.

Although most people would hate someone who broke another person's wrist, they inexplicably found Cheyenne cool. Especially after learning that Danielle Parry had injured Benson, their perception of Cheyenne changed drastically.

Chapter 23: Most Girls Won’t Have a Liking for You

The Foley Mansion, nestled amidst lush greenery and scattered houses, featured European-style buildings of white marble intricately carved with vine patterns. Swarovski crystal chandeliers hung in the grand hall, complemented by a black-and-white checkered floor. An elderly man in black robes, with thin features and exceptionally clear eyes, sat on a sofa. A hint of anger flickered on his face as he looked towards the door, his beard trembling.

Instantly, two figures appeared before him. The man wore a black three-piece suit, the jacket draped over his arm to reveal his vest and white shirt. His tall, slender figure was elegant and majestic. Beside him stood Abbie, timidly, in a pink Chanel-style suit, her long chestnut hair framing her delicate features and light makeup.

“Grandfather,” Kelvin called as he approached.

“Why did you bring her here? This is the Foley family’s old mansion. What is an outsider doing here?” Old Mr. Foley’s gaze fell on Abbie with disdain. He resented Abbie's ten-year pursuit of his grandson, from high school to the present.

Kelvin’s handsome face darkened momentarily. “Grandfather, Abbie is my sister.”

Abbie stood awkwardly, clutching her gift bag, her eyes welling up as she looked at Kelvin. Resentment welled within her. If not for the old man's interference, she and Kelvin would be together.

“Sister? Your last name is Foley, hers is Berry. How can she be your sister? Did your father have an illegitimate daughter?” The old man slammed his cane on the ground, the dull thud echoing through the hall. The servants remained silent.

Abbie's face flushed crimson.

The middle-aged man who had just entered paused, quickly explaining, “Dad, please don’t accuse me wrongly. I’ve only ever had one wife, Gracie. I wouldn’t dare to cheat on her.”

“Uncle Corey,” Abbie called sweetly.

The man, Corey Foley, Kelvin’s father and former CEO of the Foley Group, glanced at Abbie, sighed quietly, and nodded curtly. Once a renowned business genius, he had changed careers after his wife was injured in a car accident ten years ago. They moved abroad, rarely returning. Kelvin took over the Foley Group as a teenager, developing a cold demeanor.

“Dad,” Kelvin called.

“I’m just grabbing something. I’ll catch up later,” Corey said faintly, heading upstairs.

Old Mr. Foley glared at him. “Your son and daughter-in-law divorced, and you didn’t even ask about it?”

Corey paused, furrowing his brows. “Dad, it’s settled. For family harmony, it's best not to discuss it.”

“Precisely because of family harmony, I need to scold your stubborn son!”

Scold Kelvin? Corey sighed, feeling a headache coming on as he looked at his father and then at his son. “Dad, Kelvin is an adult. You’re not well. Leave him alone. How about I adopt Cheyenne as my goddaughter?”

Old Mr. Foley exploded. “What nonsense!”

Corey said softly, “It’s for family harmony.”

“Get out! You and your son anger me!” Old Mr. Foley spat.

“I’ll go upstairs. I have to go out later,” Corey said. Abbie watched him leave as Kelvin sat beside her. “Don’t just stand there. Sit down.”

Sitting opposite Old Mr. Foley made Abbie nervous. His fierce aura still lingered from his days as a soldier.

“Sit down. We don’t want people saying the Foley family doesn’t know how to entertain guests,” he said.

He found Abbie inferior to Cheyenne in every way. He couldn't understand why Kelvin would divorce Cheyenne for her. He was sure Kelvin would regret it.

“Grandpa, this is a gift for you – Duke’s Black Tea,” Abbie said, placing it on the table.

(The ending is cut off in the original text.)