Oops My Toyboy Is A Hidden Tycoon

Selena was lost in the past, unable to pull herself out of it. She didn’t want to bother with what Shirley had just said. The disappointment and complex emotions welling up in her heart were nearly overwhelming. In the end, Selena turned around, got into her car, and asked the driver to drive away.

Shirley stood there, her fingers clenched tightly. ‘Cynthia, I will never let you off, she said to herself.

Just then, Rachel, who had just been acquitted, walked out of the courthouse. She saw Shirley, her expression full of mixed emotions as she looked from a distance. She didn’t expect Shirley to appeal. She thought Shirley wanted her to spend the rest of her life in prison.

Shirley also saw Rachel. She walked straight toward Rachel.

“Shirley, my daughter, I finally get to see you,” Rachel said and stepped forward, trying to grab Shirley’s hand. She hadn’t seen Shirley even once during her years in prison

But Shirley, in her anger, shook her off. She said, “You? Whose mom are you? Yes, I appealed to get you out, but that doesn’t mean I acknowledge you as my mother. If it weren’t for you switching my life with Cynthia’s back then, would I be living such a difficult life now?”

Shirley looked at Rachel with disdain and continued, “Don’t come looking for me again. Go find your biological daughter, Cynthia. She’s your daughter. Let her take care of you for the rest of your life.”

After saying that, Shirley turned and left. Rachel stood still.

The noon sun was scorching, like being roasted over a fire. Not far away, Selena sat in her car, witnessing the scene. Her disappointment and heartbreak over Shirley deepened.

Rachel looked up at the bustling traffic. She felt momentarily dazed as she planned to find a bus stop to go home. Suddenly, a red Mercedes–Benz pulled up in front of her. The car window slowly rolled down, revealing a stunningly beautiful face.

Cynthia said, “Ms. Erwin, let me take you home.”

Rachel was stunned, immediately recognizing the girl. She had seen her picture before. In the end, Rachel got in the car. It started up quickly and joined the city traffic.

Cynthia introduced herself calmly, I’m Cynthia.”

Rachel was visibly flustered and quickly replied. “I know you. L… I’ve seen your picture.”

When she went to prison, she took two photos with her–one of Shirley and one of Cynthia.

Rachel was clearly nervous facing Cynthia, but Cynthia remained calm. As she drove, she asked, “Do you have a place to stay?

Rachel replied, “I used to live in Splendid Garden.

Cynthia drove straight there. Splendid Garden was an old residential area set for derfiolition but was conveniently located near the city center. 20 minutes later, they arrived, and Cynthia casually parked inside the residential area,

Rachel got out of the car and said. “Thank you for bringing me back, Ms. Jones. Why don’t you come for a cup of tea before. leaving?”

Gynthia addressed her as “Mrs. Erwin,” clearly not willing to acknowledge Rachel as her mother. But Rachel wasn’t disappointed–she felt she wasn’t worthy of being Cynthia’s mother.

Cynthia didn’t refuse.

Rachel lived on the ground floor of a high–rise building. She found a key from the shoe cabinet at the entrance. She opened the door and went in. The interior was dim and filled with dust.

Rachel quickly drew open the curtains and opened all the windows. She said, “No one’s lived here for three years, so it’s dusty everywhere. I hope you don’t mind. Ms. Jones,”

Cynthia looked around the dust–covered room and said, Tll hire some cleaners.”

Rachel replied, “There’s no need. The house isn’t big. I can clean it myself in a bit

“Make me a meal, then. I want to eat your cooking,” Cynthia suddenly said.

Rachel froze, standing in the living room, unable to react for a long time. Her tears welled up uncontrollably. She quickly turned around and said. “Alright, there’s a grocery store in the residential area. I’ll go buy some ingredients.” With that, she hurriedly left the house.

Cynthia immediately called for two cleaners. After hanging up, she began exploring the small home. Though the house was small, it had everything necessary and was decorated warmly.

Despite the dust in the living room, the coordination of the couch and furniture showed careful selection. Everything was neatly organized, even the pots and pans in the kitchen were orderly. Cynthia could feel the homeowner’s love for life.

The living room connected to a small balcony, where a small wind chime hung. A gust of wind caused a tinkling melody to fill the air. Outside the balcony was a small yard, now overgrown with weeds, but there were vegetable racks, clearly crafted with care. One could imagine that, three years ago, the yard was full of vegetables and fruits.

Cynthia returned inside and opened a door that she assumed led to Shirley’s room. It was tidily arranged, with a pink bed and curtains. The furniture was clearly of higher quality compared to the rest of the house, and a delicate wardrobe stood there.

Upon opening it, she found a wardrobe full of beautiful clothes Although there were not many designer brands, each piece was clean and neat, without a wrinkle. Cynthia could almost see how carefully Rachel had organized those clothes before going to prison. Unfortunately, after Shirley returned to the Jones family, she never returned to visit, not even once.

When Rachel returned, the cleaners were already busy. Cynthia sat on the couch in the living room, watching TV. Rachel went straight to the kitchen to start washing and preparing the vegetables,

Cynthia got up and walked over, saying, “Need any help? I can’t cook, but I can assist a bit.”

Rachel suddenly smiled and said, “No need. I’m good at cooking. The kitchen is too small for two people. You can watch TV in the living room.”

Cynthia didn’t insist, knowing she was truly no good in the kitchen. Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Soon, the cleaners had finished. The entire house looked almost brand new, with even the windows spotless. The noon sun poured in, making the room bright and warm.

Meanwhile, Rachel was almost done cooking as well. She placed the final pot of mushroom soup on the table and called out to Cynthia, “Ms. Jones. Come and eat.”

Cynthia got up and walked over, surprised to see that, in just an hour, Rachel had managed to cook a table full of dishes: braised short ribs, garlic grilled shrimps, steamed sea bass, Granatanolan pork knuckle, stewed beef, frittata, sauteed mushrooms with onion and garlic, and a pot of mushroom soup–eight dishes in total, filling the small dining table. The

alone was enough to make anyone’s mouth water.