She Became Rich After Divorce

Chapter 288: Miss Lawrence Living In A Fantasy

Chapter 288: Miss Lawrence Living in a Fantasy

What a pity! What a pity! He had neglected his daughter in the past, and now he doubted she would acknowledge him as her father. It had been a month since he moved out, and they hadn't spoken to each other. George had some grievances against Cheyenne for that.

After all, he was her elder, and if she had come to him with an apology or just a simple phone call to greet him, he would have pretended like nothing happened.

But Cheyenne was even more composed, seemingly untouched by it all. Malaya and Nora sat there, silently contemplating the newspaper before them, each with their own thoughts.

The matter had become so widely known that even Principal Shepard couldn't pretend it didn't exist. Akloit College's official Twitter account published his 3, 000-word apology letter, along with an explanation for his earlier words, stating that it was out of a deep love for talent.

Cheyenne was a promising student, but she didn't like being confined by conventional rules. He believed in "teaching according to the student's ability" to retain talented individuals.

His words of clarification were generally well-received by netizens, although some couldn't help but express bitterness about it not being fair.

However, most netizens were impressed by Cheyenne's achievements. They pointed out that if you could achieve any one of Miss Lawrence's accomplishments, Principal Shepard would also make exceptions for you.

If you couldn't match that, you had no right to complain about fairness. In this world, there was no absolute fairness. Some people had a photographic memory, while others couldn't remember after reading a thousand times. Was that fair?

The only thing we could do was to strive for fairness in this inherently unfair world. You couldn't choose your birth, but you could choose the path you'd take in the future.

...

In the villa, Cheyenne paid no attention to the online commotion she had stirred up. She was wearing a cute ginger-yellow doll dress and sitting on the sofa, happily eating watermelon.

Outside, the scorching sun at 39 degrees was like a giant furnace. The persistent journalists squatted at the entrance, hesitating to step inside. They could only watch as Cheyenne opened the door but dared not enter. They gazed at her, sitting on the sofa, savoring ice-cold watermelon while the air-conditioning was running inside the house, and they wished they could stick their faces inside to escape the heat.

Omari, dressed in a white pinstriped shirt and dark blue suit pants, was tall and handsome, with charming eyes that would make your heart race with just a glance.

He smiled warmly at the corners of his lips and glanced at the people. He took a large watermelon from the fridge, and his voice was as clear as a brook under the moonlight.

"Would you like some? It's scorching hot today, taking a bite of watermelon will quench your thirst, and the ice-cold, sweet watermelon juice in your belly can relieve the heat in your body."

All pairs of eyes were fixed on the watermelon in Omari's hands. Several people clearly swallowed, and others turned their gaze away awkwardly.

In her humble plea, she said, "Thank you, Mr. Lara, but we'd like to... go inside and interview Miss Lawrence?"

Cheyenne was busy with the medicinal herbs on the table, and her grandfather had finally recovered the burned herbs. The two of them discussed their plans for the evening while enjoying

their watermelon. The faint sound of "crunch, crunch" was irresistibly tempting.

Omari stood at the door with the large watermelon, weighing nearly seven to eight pounds, effortlessly held in one hand. He turned sideways and made a "please" gesture with his other hand.

"Sure, you can come in."

"Ah? Thank you, Mr. Lara!"

The young girl's face was sunburned, her raven-black shoulder-length hair damp with sweat, sticking to her fair cheeks and delicate collarbone in strands.

Disheveled.

Only her bright and pure eyes were like a small deer in the woods, free of any impurities, innocently thinking that this man was being sincere. She even praised Omari for being really handsome and having a kind heart.

In the next moment, this "good person" she had identified emitted a chilling voice just as she was about to step inside the villa's main door.

With an upward inflection in his tone, it was clear that he was in a good mood.

"Sure, come on in. According to Article 245 of our current 'Criminal Law,' unlawful intrusion into a residence carries a punishment of up to three years in prison or detention."

The man in front of her had a gentle smile, his white shirt complementing his fair face, and beneath the golden-rimmed glasses, his charming eyes shone brightly. No matter how you looked at him, he didn't seem like a bad person.

However, it was this good-looking and seemingly pure-hearted man who was now using the gentlest tone in the world to deliver these intimidating words.

Natasha was at a loss for what to do, her plump eyes fixed on him, and her voice, as soft as a mosquito, spoke up.

"But... didn't you just say I could go inside to interview Miss Lawrence?"

Omari's explanation was, "I'm not the owner of this house, and Cheyenne hasn't agreed to let you in for an interview, nor will she. I suggest you leave soon."

"Hurry up! Don't waste my time."

With that, he turned and left, showing no concern whether the people outside were surprised or angry. RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

A certain male journalist, almost wilting under the scorching sun, finally couldn't contain himself any longer. He stood up, gazing at Cheyenne with an aggressive look, and pointed his finger in her direction, shouting loudly.

"Heh, Miss Lawrence, you really have the loftiest attitude I've ever seen. As a public figure, it's your duty to accept interviews from journalists and society's scrutiny."

The angry shout from outside the door interrupted Cheyenne and her grandfather's discussion. She turned her gaze in that direction, her red lips curling with a voice filled with skepticism and disdain.

"Is that so? I wasn't aware I had become a public figure. When did I become one?"

She wasn't a celebrity, a blogger, or an internet sensation. How had she turned into a "public figure" in his eyes?

Cheyenne elegantly rose and walked over, wearing a pair of pink flat sandals.

She spoke coldly, "Eliezer Rich, Metshire's most famous journalist back then, couldn't even get close to interviewing me, and you're... what exactly?"

Eliezer Rich! In recent years, the most renowned journalist who had a political background but later switched to journalism after taking up photography. He had won the Pulitzer Prize for journalism three years in a row. The people he interviewed were undoubtedly those with power, influence, or absolute prominence.

Cheyenne actually claimed that Mr. Eliezer Rich had wanted to interview her but was turned down. Was she blinded by her arrogance? Was she living in a fantasy world?