"I let you all live here out of kindness!" she declared. If her mood soured, she could evict them. Cheyenne's laughter echoed, a chilling sound that haunted them.
Sean, furious, gritted his teeth. "Dad, is this really her house?"
"Yes," George replied weakly. He'd lived there over ten years, and hadn't realized it wasn't his until Cheyenne raised the issue.
"Then give me back my things, or I'll kick you out!" she spat. How dare they live in her house and steal her belongings?
"Hmph! We'll move out! Who cares about your stupid house!" Sean retorted. Young, rebellious, and proud, he wanted to leave immediately after Cheyenne's provocation, but Malaya stopped him.
"Sean, calm down. Where will you go?" she asked.
"I'd rather sleep on the streets than see her!" he exclaimed.
Cheyenne sneered, crossing her arms. "Go ahead. My small house can't accommodate a big man like you."
Sean glared and muttered, "Bitch!"
Seeing a fight brewing, George intervened. "Enough! Cheyenne, stop it! Sean, go to your room!"
He thought, Move out? Easier said than done! I could afford a temporary villa, but that would give Cheyenne the house completely. She's just my daughter. Once she's married, the house is still mine. I can't move!
"Dad!" Sean protested.
"To your room!" George insisted. George had only one son, and he'd always spoiled him. Sean was used to getting his way and was scared by his father's anger. He hung his head, silent. His pretty eyes welled up, his face a mixture of anger and helplessness—a sight that Cheyenne found captivating.
That night, her room was mostly cleaned, though some things were missing.
JZ Villa Area was a prestigious neighborhood in Akloit. Its inhabitants were wealthy and influential. The white, Western-style villa, with its garden, Gothic spires, and marble reliefs, was exquisitely luxurious. Crystal chandeliers cast beautiful light and shadow in the hall.
A man woke on the sofa, rubbing his forehead. "Cheyenne, water."
"Kelvin, you're awake," a gentle voice—not Cheyenne's—answered. Abbie, in a white floral dress, her chestnut hair hanging loose, smiled radiantly.
Kelvin stared at the offered water but didn't take it. Coldness flashed in his eyes. He'd divorced Cheyenne.
"Leave that to the servants," he said, rising and putting on his shoes. His white striped shirt revealed his tanned neck and Adam's apple, but the chill around him overshadowed his attractiveness. He grabbed his black suit jacket and went upstairs.
A servant carried a pile of clothes downstairs. Seeing Kelvin, they stepped aside, addressing him respectfully as "Mr. Foley."
"What are you doing with those clothes? Cheyenne's?" he asked. "Didn't she take them?"
The servant replied, "Miss Lawrence instructed us to burn them, sir."
Burn them? That was done only for the deceased. Kelvin frowned.
"Leave them," he said.
The maid hesitated, then heard him say, "Wait, leave them there."
He entered his study, his tall figure casting a long shadow. The maid looked at Abbie, who had a fleeting expression of malice.
The study was antique-decorated, filled with bookshelves and collectibles. Among them, a mimosa plant stood out. He'd been there less than two days; who dared disturb his study?
"Sir, you're back. Miss Berry's room…?" the butler asked.
"Plenty of rooms in this villa," Kelvin replied, waving him away. He picked up a book, then recoiled at the cartoon characters and tossed it in the trash.
In the hallway, Abbie and servants stood outside Cheyenne's room.
"Replace those black curtains with blue ones. And the bed!"
Abbie winced at the thought of Cheyenne and Kelvin sharing that bed—the one from his wedding, made of exquisite velvet. The butler hesitated, but Abbie was the future mistress, so he agreed to replace it. "I'll arrange it immediately, Miss Berry."
(Note: I removed the FindNovel.net promotion as it was irrelevant to the text cleanup.)