She Became Rich After Divorce
Chapter 356: Leave

Chapter 356: Leave

A black Rolls-Royce Phantom came to a slow stop in front of the two. Kelvin's face, as serene and handsome as a deity, appeared through the lowered car window.

Kelvin, expressionless, instructed Chris, 'Get in.'

'Yes, Mr. Foley!' Chris had never been so moved; he thought his boss had left him behind.

Little did he expect Mr. Foley to be so considerate.

Juliana also wanted to ride in his car, approaching and trying to strike up a conversation. With a pitiful tone, she pleaded, 'Mr. Foley, I forgot to drive today. Can you give me a ride?'

The cold and ruthless man callously rejected her coquettish request, 'I'm going to the office to work overtime with this useless assistant. It's not on the way, Miss Chambers. Get back the way you came!' He might as well have said, 'Get lost.'

The smile on the woman's face gradually froze. Did the term 'useless assistant' sound like an insult directed at her?

Chris, on the other hand, was startled by the mention of 'overtime.' This was bad; it seemed Mr. Foley was in a very bad mood.

Well, no rest for this weekend.

He retracted his earlier comment about Mr. Foley becoming more considerate.

Sunlight filled the room, the warm hues of the wooden decor creating a cozy and natural atmosphere. In the middle of the hall was a black piano, and by the French windows covered with a white shaggy rug, a young man in a brown thin T-shirt lay dozing off.

The gentle light fell on his extraordinarily handsome face, flawless and fair, not a single visible pore. His skin was so enviable that even women would feel jealous.

In his hands, there was an open book, surrounded by many white papers scattered on the nearby rug. The papers were filled with messy yet elegantly written black musical notes.

Although he couldn't see, his handwriting was sharp and beautiful, like a stroke of genius.

Cheyenne quietly picked up the crumpled papers from the floor. When she noticed the open window, she quickly stood up to close it.

Suddenly, a slightly cold hand grabbed her wrist. The chilly touch traveled through her body as she sneezed.

Then, a pair of empty eyes turned to her, and a clear, concerned voice spoke, 'Cheyenne, have you caught a cold?'

As he got up, the round neckline of his T-shirt slid down, revealing his delicate and sexy collarbone. His freshly awakened face, with those clear, slightly sleepy eyes, looked like an enchanting fairy. Cheyenne shook her head, trying to clear her mind from the temptation. But even so, she couldn't help but swallow.

Benson, usually appearing serious and gentle, revealed a surprisingly sexy side. Fortunately, Cheyenne was an honest girl; otherwise, she might have already pounced on him.

'No, maybe it's because I just came in from outside, and the temperature difference is too much. Have I disturbed your sleep, Benson? Why don't you go to the room to sleep? It's easy to catch a cold here, and you left the window open.'

As she scolded him in a hushed voice, Benson chuckled. His face brightened with this smile, and his lips curved upwards.

'No, I've been sleeping for quite a while. You came just at the right time. You heartless girl, what makes you suddenly visit me?'

She walked to the other side and sat cross-legged in front of him, revealing the hand she had behind her back.

Knowing he couldn't see, she didn't worry about Benson sneaking a peek.

'Benson, you've misunderstood me. I've just been busy lately. Besides, I had some delicious food outside today and thought of getting you some too. That's why I'm here.'

With a hint of playfulness in her voice, Benson sniffed the sweet fragrance in the air, somewhat familiar.

'I wrongly accused you. I'm sorry. By the way, Cheyenne, what did you bring me?'

He reached out his hand into the air, and Cheyenne evaded his hand with a mischievous smile. 'Guess, Benson.'

Benson sniffed the sweet aroma in the air again, and a hint of sourness seemed to be present. In his mind, the image of candied hawthorns immediately appeared.

'It's candied hawthorns.'

Unexpectedly, he was spot-on. Cheyenne bit her lip, still wanting to play with him. 'Nope!'

'Cheyenne, you hesitated for half a second, and your heartbeat accelerated in an instant. It must be the candied hawthorns.'

Upon hearing this, she admired him and sighed, 'Benson, you're really amazing; your ears are getting more and more sensitive.'

'It's indeed candied hawthorns, specially left for you. A certain dog even stared at me several times, but I didn't give him any.'

He thanked her and took it, not proud or boasting about guessing it right. However, he was curious about the 'certain dog' mentioned by her. 'What dog? Do dogs still eat candied hawthorns now?'

Upon hearing his serious inquiry, Cheyenne burst into laughter. That dog would eat anything, even rotten flies, let alone candied hawthorns. 'Nothing, just a stray dog I encountered on the street.'

'Oh.'

He knew that this dog wasn't the one he had in mind, but he could sense from Cheyenne's voice that she was in a good mood today.

Benson didn't press further; instead, he earnestly bowed his head to enjoy the candied hawthorns. The sweet taste in his mouth seemed to mirror his mood - very sweet. The sunshine was warm, and the laughter of the person beside him added to the tranquility of this rare quiet afternoon.

Suddenly, a spark of inspiration flashed through Benson's mind. He quickly set the candied hawthorns aside and urged Cheyenne to help him to the piano.

'Cheyenne, quickly! Help me to the piano.'

'Huh? Okay...'

Cheyenne smiled helplessly. This was how Benson was - once he got an inspiration, he would be wholeheartedly devoted to it.

She placed the bitten candied hawthorn into a white plate. In the sunlight, the white fruit and the vividly red syrup formed a strong color contrast, creating a beautiful sight.

She assisted Benson to the piano stand, and as his hands touched the black and white keys, his entire demeanor seemed to change.

His fair and well-defined fingers danced nimbly across the keys, and a series of melodious notes echoed in the space like flowing water.

Cheyenne was captivated; the piece was lively, light, and carried a sweet and playful flavor.

When he pressed the last note, a black water-based pen was handed to him.

'Benson.'

Even before he spoke, Cheyenne had already presented the paper and pen to him. This telepathic understanding made Benson's heartstrings vibrate.

Cheyenne understood not just his music but also his thoughts.

For the past half-month, Benson had secluded himself to compose, aiming to get into the music academy. However, he had been dissatisfied with his compositions. Just now, while enjoying candied hawthorns and listening to her laughter, inspiration struck, and a new piece flowed out effortlessly.