Became A Queen After divorce

Erica withdrew her gaze and walked towards her daughter on the grass while shaking her fan.

The little girl was wearing a goose-yellow dress, with small braids tied up, sitting on the grass playing. Her voice was soft and cute, innocent and pure.

Tanner left and went to a spot in the back mountain that looked suitable. He chopped off the snake’s head and buried it.

The Foley Villa, the lamp in the study was as bright as daylight, and the tall figure behind the desk was as straight as a pine tree.

There was white gauze wrapped around his hand, but it didn’t affect his ability to hold a pen.

A beautiful and well-defined hand held a silver Parker pen, writing quickly while looking down.

The light illuminated half of his face, his full and broad forehead, thick and curly eyelashes covered the emotions in his eyes, and he had a high nose bridge.

The other half of his face was in the darkness, and the facial features were unclear. This contrast between light and dark made him look like a character from a comic book, flawless and perfect.

When old Mr. Foley came in, he saw the tall figure behind the desk at a glance and coughed softly.

The man didn’t even lift his head, and a cold voice echoed in the space, “Grandfather, do you have something to ask?”

“You little brat, can’t I come to see you if I have nothing to ask?”

Saying that, he walked in with a cane.

At a glance, he saw the words written on the white paper on the desktop.

Kelvin’s handwriting was extremely beautiful, like a dragon soaring over the sea, with a hint of sharpness in its elegance.

Old Mr. Foley glanced at his handwriting and said incredulously, “Why did you suddenly copy the bible?”

Moreover, he had always been an atheist, so his behavior today was indeed somewhat strange.

Kelvin stopped writing after finishing the last word, listening to the skepticism in his grandfather’s voice.

The pen was placed on the table.

He didn’t answer that question, his gaze fixed on the tabletop where the mimosa was placed. These past few days, he kept recalling the scene where Cheyenne had sucked out the venom from him.

Even though they had clearly agreed to settle the matter and move on, he still felt a sense of frustration in his heart.

He heard that copying the bible could calm one’s mood, so after taking a bath, Kelvin took out this pen and sat at the table writing.

But Cheyenne’s sarcastic smile was still deeply rooted in his mind and couldn’t be shaken off.

“Just seeking peace of mind, Grandpa. It’s getting late,” Kelvin said coldly, picked up the cigarette beside him, and put one in his mouth.

He rarely smoked, only when he felt upset or stressed from work.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

The blue glow of the match reflected in his deep eyes, cold enough to chill one’s bones.

Old Mr. Foley furrowed his brow unconsciously and glanced at Kelvin. “You’ve been restless lately, I can tell.”

“No.”

“Don’t rush to dismiss it. I’ve watched you grow up. I know you better than anyone. You’re a wonderful kid in every way, but there’s one thing about you – you tend to keep things bottled up inside.”

It was undoubtedly exhausting to be that way.

Other kids might come home from school or outside boasting about being bullied or praised by their teachers, but not Kelvin. He had always been reserved, keeping all of his emotions bottled up inside him without ever expressing them, whether they were good or bad.

His outward demeanor was extremely mature; he could handle anything that came his way with ease and efficiency – something that made old Mr. Foley very proud.

“Is it because of Cheyenne?” he asked finally.

There was a sharp snap as Kelvin pressed down too hard on the pen in his hand when old Mr. Foley mentioned that name.

The pointed tip tore through the paper and into the wood surface of the desk before it broke.

Ink spilled out onto the page, slowly spreading across its surface like a stain as it obscured all of Kelvin’s beautiful handwriting beneath it.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, feeling the acrid scent of smoke filling up his nostrils with an uncomfortable burn.

Leaning back against the cold chair, he managed to regain some composure. His slender fingers held onto his cigarette as he exhaled a hazy purple smoke that slowly rose up in the study.

“It’s not because of her.”

“You still care about her,” old Mr. Foley said confidently.

“No, I don’t.” Kelvin replied with an increasingly dark expression on his face.

“Yes, you do! Why else would you risk getting hurt to save her?”

Kelvin couldn’t come up with an answer for that one and fell silent for a moment before coldly retorting, “If you saw a dying dog on the street, even you would try to save it.”

Old Mr. Foley rolled his eyes at this response and left the room. ‘Fine, you’re being stubborn now, but you’ll regret it later!’