She Became Rich After Divorce by Georgina Lane

Chapter 335: Living in Your Bedroom Kelvin's cold demeanor persisted as he forcefully grabbed Cheyenne's blood-stained hand, guiding her to the bathroom in the room. Turning on the faucet, he dominantly held her injured hand under the running water in the sink.

Despite his stoic expression, the tight furrow of his eyebrows betrayed a sense of distress hidden beneath his dark eyes. He appeared eerily calm.

If it weren't for Cheyenne's internal reminder that Kelvin was the trap that she shouldn't fall into again, she might have been moved by his current actions. Cheyenne resisted his hold, frowned at him, and the bright ceiling lights in the room illuminated the displeasure in her eyes.

"Kelvin, letgo. I'm a doctor; I can take care of it myself." However, Kelvin's towering figure cast a shadow like a small mountain, enclosing her. He sternly commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

"Don't move. The injury is on your right hand, and your left hand is not convenient. Don't be stubborn." Left hand inconvenient? Cheyenne would show him what "stubborn" truly meant in the next second.

Swiftly withdrawing her hand, she turned and retrieved items such as gauze and bandages from a shelf, skillfully using her left hand to unscrew the cap of a bottle of antiseptic.

Biting open the packaging of a disposable cotton swab with her teeth, she even tied a neat butterfly knot while wrapping the bandage. All of this was done with her left hand, indistinguishable from her usual right-handed precision. She looked at Kelvin provocatively.

"I've already told you, I don't need you!" Once, a small injury would prompt her to act coquettishly, hoping he would talk to her and show sconcern. With more wounds, she had becunafraid of pain. Even without Kelvin's care, she would manage well, perhaps even better than before.

The words "I don't need you" acted like a sharp sword piercing his heart, causing an indescribable ache and sense of loss.

When Cheyenne needed him, he wasn't there. Now that she didn't need him, he yearned to be her reliance, reminiscing about her pitiful demeanor when she used to lean on him.

Old Mr. Foley had initially wanted Cheyenne to play chess with him, but now, with her injured hand, he refrained from making such a request.

He had just woken up, and it wasn't the right tto strain his mind. Cheyenne and Kelvin kept old Mr. Foley company, chatting away. When they emerged from the bedroom around ten o'clock, Abbie was surprisingly still sitting in the living room, sipping tea.

Emelia sat beside her, engaged in conversation, and when they spotted Kelvin, their words trailed off.

"Kelvin, it's already late. I think it's not convenient for Miss Berry to go back alone. How about letting her stay at the Foley Mansion tonight? There's already a ready room." As she mentioned the ready room, her gaze intentionally shifted toward Cheyenne, containing a gloating undertone. However, Cheyenne's phone rang at that moment, and she paid no attention to Emelia. It was Omari calling. Worried about any potential accidents, he had driven to the Foley Mansion to wait for her after work.

"Hello, Mr. Lara." The moment these words entered Kelvin's ears, his expression darkened. His gaze passed over Emelia and the others, fixing on the entrance where a black luxury car was parked, its headlights on. Omari had unexpectedly tracked her to the Foley Mansion! Cheyenne deliberately avoided Kelvin as she answered the phone, heading towards the end of the corridor.

Why? Was there something she didn't want him to hear? Kelvin's gaze darkened. He took out his phone and called the security room at the entrance, his voice sending chills down the listener's spine.

"Get the car at the entrance out of here immediately!" "Yes... Yes, we'll do it right away." The security guards, who were enjoying a late-night snack, had never expected to receive a call from Mr. Foley. They had been working there for five or six years, and their daily routine involved opening and closing the gate.

Most of their working twas spent on TikTok or watching s. With a monthly salary of just over four thousand, life was comfortable.

Two minutes into the call, Cheyenne saw the black car leaving. She wondered why Omari drove the car here and then left.

After all this happened, Kelvin turned away from everyone, smirking, and walked towards his bedroom. Cheyenne had disappeared somewhere.

The deserted hall now only had Emelia and a somewhat embarrassed Abbie still standing there, unsure of what to do.

After ending the call, Cheyenne returned to her previous room. To her surprise, as she pushed open the door, she heard the sound of rushing water - someone was taking a shower.

Abbie, dressed in a low-cut, scarlet negligee, walked out slowly from the bathroom, water droplets still clinging to her fair and delicate body. Her wet, long hair fell loosely behind her, and she stood barefoot on the beige plush carpet. Her ordinary face was slightly flushed from the mist, adding a touch of allure.

She looked at Cheyenne with a "surprised" expression, then explained in a soft voice, "Miss Lawrence, you've got the wrong room. I've been living in this room since you left." This was the room nearest to Kelvin's study. Before the divorce, he never stayed in his own room after finishing his business. His room was right next door. Even when taking a shower, he never went to this room.

This was supposed to be Cheyenne's personal space.

Now, Abbie had invaded it without permission. The thought of Abbie wearing her own negligee and lying on her beloved pink bed, cavorting with Kelvin, made Cheyenne nauseous.

She glanced at Abbie's chest and smiled sarcastically.

"Miss Berry, why don't you buy a more suitable negligee? This gned bought four years ago, and it's a bit smalt for me. Surprisingly, it's a bit too loose for Miss Berry." Four years ago, Cheyenne was nineteen, and her bust had already reached 36D. Abbie, on the other hand, had a flat chest with a 32B size.

This dress, originally designed to be short in length and filled out by an well-endowed figure, now hit hung awkwardly off-balance on Abbie's body. She looked plain and ordinary. Even though Abbie considered herself well-bred, she was infuriated by Cheyenne's words and almost let out a string of curses.

"Thanks for the reminder, Miss Lawrence. Kelvin also said this dress is too low in price and doesn't match me." Low in price?

Dream was a world-famous lingerie brand, each dress was unique, and they only accepted private orders. Cheyenne had spent over twenty thousand on this silk nightdress, including hand-embroidery. The classic style exuded a blend of innocence and allure. She had deliberately bought it for Kelvin to see.

Later, she left it in the wardrobe without wearing it even once.

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