She Became Rich After Divorce

Chapter 718: Darren Miller

Cheyenne had her long, flowing hair styled into an elegant bun adorned with golden gemstone, exuding a rich and dignified elegance.

On her face, they wanted to apply a geisha makeup. Cheyenne declined and coolly stood up from her chair, rejecting their offer, "I can handle it myself."

The two maids exchanged puzzled glances, and one of them responded, "Miss Lawrence, please be patient. It will be ready shortly." The other maid chimed in, "Indeed, as our honored guest, we can't allow Miss Lawrence to do it yourself."

Cheyenne became increasingly suspicious of their intentions. Though she had never been to Jostrana before, she had learned from television dramas and history books that the robe they prepared for her was reserved for noble women during marriage ceremonies or birthday banquets.

"Where is your Master Darren? I want to see him," Cheyenne demanded.

The maids hesitated and attempted to placate her, "Miss Lawrence, please allow us to finish your makeup first. Master Darren will be here shortly."

"I said I want to see your Master Darren. I want to see what he's up to," Cheyenne insisted. She recalled being pushed into the water by Charlotte and being saved by someone wearing black. Could that person be the owner of this room?All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

Just as the maids were faltering, a clear and familiar voice, as melodious as a song, emerged from the entrance. It sent shivers down their spines.

"You both may leave now."

"Master Darren."

The two maids called out in unison, their voices reaching Cheyenne's ears as she turned her head to see the slender figure slowly walking towards the doorway.

The man was wearing a navy blue bathrobe, tied with a green belt, accentuating his slim waist and long legs, displaying an elegant posture.

As he walked, a pair of fair and delicate pretty feet peeped out from under his robe. In his hands, he held a wooden tray with a small bowl made of celadon, emanating a tantalizing aroma of chicken soup. That refined and clear face, who else could it be but Benson? Seeing him, Cheyenne was initially shocked, but then seemed to understand something. She curled her lips into a mocking and cold smile. "So, there's more than one thing you lied to me about."

"So, you are Master Darren, the famous member of the Miller family."

"So, your powerful and ruthless father in the story is Rohan."

"Now, tell me, what is your relationship with Lucien Miller, the guy joining Abona Medical Competition?"

"He has the surname Miller... I don't believe you know nothing."

Each and every question Cheyenne posed made Benson panic, causing beads of anxious sweat to form on his forehead. Her unwelcoming demeanor kept him at a distance. However, he decided to answer her questions because he didn't want to deceive Cheyenne any longer.

Once a lie is spoken, more lies are needed to cover it up, and it grows like a snowball, larger and larger.

So he didn't want to deceive Cheyenne any longer and answered truthfully, "He is my family's employee. I'm sorry, Cheyenne. I had no idea that my father had bribed him."

Yes, he was the one who had instructed Lucien to follow Cheyenne into the Dead Forest, but his aim was to prevent her from finding the grave.

But Lucien had already betrayed him, following his father's arrangement, and even made a move against Cheyenne.

Upon learning of the news, he was afraid that Cheyenne would be harmed, which is why he drove to the Dead Forest.

Later, just as she had seen, in the Dead Forest she coincidentally encountered Cheyenne, who had just escaped from inside, and the truth was revealed.

Benson also knew that he was not entitled to seek Cheyenne's forgiveness, but he hoped that Cheyenne wouldn't be angry.

Just as she had awakened, she was emotionally distressed, in poor health, and on top of that, she was pregnant and needed to rest.

"I don't need you to care about me.

From now on, you and I have no

relation! You are no longer my Benson, you are now the Miller family's Master Darren!" Her resolute and indifferent attitude cut Benson to the core.

Even though her attitude towards him was so cold and ruthless, Benson still remembered

Cheyenne's kindness to him andet

believed that she was a person who may be tough on the outside but

soft hearted inside.

During the three years of his blindness, she had taken care of his food and living so tenderly and gently.

In that pitch-black world without light, Cheyenne was his only brightness.

He took a few steps forward and placed the tray on the bedside table, then picked up the porcelain bowl and sat down next to her on the chair.

With one hand holding the soup and

the other wielding the spoon, he elegantly scooped up a spoonful chicken mushroom soup. "Cheyenne, this is your favorite chicken mushroom soup. Try it, see if it tastes right. I'm afraid it's not good enough."

When the spoon was just about 5 centimeters from her lips, Cheyenne turned her head away, rejecting his offer. "I won't drink it."

When she averted her eyes, she inadvertently noticed his hand, which had been scalded and turned red.

She knew better than anyone else that he had won prestigious international music awards with his precious hands, which seldom lifted heavy things, let alone endure a burn. However, Cheyenne chose to ignore it with a heart as cold as ice. "I really can't imagine you being by my side every day, saying nice things to me, but secretly plotting against me!" "Benson, oh no, Darren. You should be grateful that you saved me three years ago, otherwise you'd be lying in front of me now!"

Benson... Hearing her address him in this way once again, Benson felt a deep pain in his heart, as though his entire soul was being torn apart and he was tremendously uncomfortable. "Cheyenne, please. Drink this soup, it's the last thing I want to do for you before I leave."

"Because, after tomorrow-I'm going to Truphis."

"Before I leave, I just want to see you smile for me one more time. The happiness on your face when you first tasted the soup I made is unforgettable to me."

With this departure, perhaps... perhaps he would never return.