Chapter 23: Most Girls Won't Like You

Old Mr. Foley glanced coldly at the tea brick before offering a forced smile. "I'm getting cider," he said. "If I drink too much at night, it keeps me up, so I've stopped." He paused. "Cheyenne told me to drink more plain water instead."

His blood pressure was high, so he avoided other beverages as well. It was clear he was picking a fight with Abbie.

Kelvin felt angry, for the first time, at his grandfather's unreasonable behavior, but he restrained his rage. "Well," he said, "I like drinking plain boiled water. Life is about taking things lightly and eating bland food to keep your mind and body comfortable. Otherwise, you take everything too seriously, and your body will suffer."

Abbie's face paled, her head drooping. Her long, thick eyelashes cast shadows on her face.

The old man ignored her, turning to Kelvin. "I don't believe that girl would cheat on you," he said. "She loves you more than anyone else in this world. What's the reason behind all this?"

Love him? Kelvin couldn't help but laugh. If she truly loved him, would she have attended an auction with her lover just a week after their divorce was finalized?

"There's no particular reason," Kelvin replied. "We just have incompatible personalities."

The old man's lips twitched. "She's only twenty-one this year, while you're almost thirty. You should be more tolerant. You're a bad-tempered, moody old man; most girls won't like you."

An old man? Kelvin narrowed his eyes slightly. "Grandpa," he said softly, "you're sixty-nine! Who exactly is the older one here?"

Old Mr. Foley was speechless.

Chapter 24: But He Looked Up at the Moon

Abbie remained silent, but she felt annoyed hearing Old Mr. Foley speak well of Cheyenne. After all, she loved Kelvin most!

"I don't care," Old Mr. Foley declared. "You have to bring Cheyenne back, or I won't eat dinner tonight." He was a fierce old man one moment, a child the next.

Kelvin remained impassive. "I've told you we're divorced," he said impatiently. "There's no chance of us getting back together. Grandpa, give it up."

He stood decisively, grabbed his jacket, and headed upstairs. The hall was empty, leaving only an angry Old Mr. Foley and a nervous Abbie. What should she do now that Kelvin had left?

Trying to appease him, Abbie smiled faintly. "Don't be angry anymore. Kelvin has his reasons."

"What reasons?" Old Mr. Foley demanded.

"I know Miss Lawrence is excellent," Abbie whispered, staring at her fingers, "but I didn't expect her to have so many close male companions."

She expected astonishment and disgust, but instead, Old Mr. Foley laughed proudly, stroking his sparse beard. "I knew Cheyenne was popular. Well, Kelvin is not good enough for her."

Abbie was shocked and angry. How could he say that?

"Alright, I'm tired," the old man said, rising with his cane. "Miss Berry, feel free to leave."

He left, leaving Abbie alone, her face purple with anger. She couldn't leave yet.

"Old Mr. Foley," she said, placing a hand on her chest, "I suddenly feel faint. Can I sit here for a while?"

Old Mr. Foley despised such delicate displays, but he couldn't simply dismiss her.

"Joe," he instructed, "prepare a guest room for Miss Berry."

Abbie smiled. "Thank you, Grandfather," she said softly.

"Miss Berry, please follow me."

The butler, a fiftyish man with gray hair and deep wrinkles, led Abbie upstairs. The second floor was semi-circular, with red carpeting, antique pumpkin-shaped chandeliers, and elegant paintings. Abbie had known Kelvin for ten years but had never visited this mansion before. She'd requested a meeting for ten years, to no avail.

The butler stopped at a room. His wrinkled face, scarred from forehead to cheekbone, looked terrifying under the dim light. His voice was hoarse. "Miss Berry, here we are."

This was the last room. The door opened to reveal a magnificent sight. The guest rooms were lavishly decorated.

Abbie calmed herself, glancing at the butler. "Butler, where does Kelvin live?"

Joe found Miss Berry less polite than Cheyenne, who used to call him "Uncle Joe."

"Opposite your room!"

"Opposite?"

Abbie followed his finger. Kelvin's room was far away. To reach him, she'd have to traverse the long corridor. It took at least five or six minutes to walk the distance she had just travelled.

They deliberately placed me far from Kelvin! she thought. It's that old man's order!

Rage filled her. Before, it was Cheyenne, but now that she’s divorced Kelvin… No! As long as Cheyenne lives, she will disrupt my life!

A fierce killing intent flared in Abbie's eyes. She wanted Cheyenne dead.

"Since you have no more questions," the butler said, turning and leaving, "please rest early."