Chapter 10: Trash and Trash Cans Are a Perfect Match

The next day, the sunlight shone through the window and filtered through a white star-patterned curtain, sprinkling small stars all over the ground.

Two books were casually thrown on the white long pile carpet, and the pages were creased from being pressed.

On the big bed, a woman is wearing a red V-neck spaghetti strap dress, with wavy curly hair scattered on her fair and beautiful back, like seaweed spreading out.

Red, white, and black formed a vibrant and eye-catching visual feast. Finally, the woman sleeping in her bed slowly opened her bleary eyes. She stretched out her fair-skinned hand to cover her mouth as she yawned.

Then she sat on the bed, dazed for almost a minute.

Oh yeah, she got divorced yesterday! Hmm, it's been a long time since she slept until waking up naturally.

The alarm clock on the table showed that it was almost ten o'clock. Cheyenne got up to wash and changed into a black spaghetti strap dress.

She walked down the stairs elegantly in high heels. The Lawrence family always woke up early; George had finished breakfast at seven and went to work at his company. Sean was in his senior year of high school while Nora was in her junior year of college; both needed to go to school for classes.

Now only Malaya sat on the sofa knitting. When Malaya saw Cheyenne coming down, a gentle smile appeared on her face as she stood up and said, "Cheyenne, you're just getting up now? Are you hungry? Shall I have the servant prepare something for you?"

"No need," Cheyenne replied calmly while walking towards Malaya. "I'm going over to my grandfather's place for breakfast and also ask him about my mother's dowry list."

"It might be better if you help me find those things instead of knitting a sweater in Summer," Cheyenne added with amusement.

Malaya's face stiffened slightly upon hearing this but she quickly regained composure before replying, "You should visit old Mr. Edwards. And I'll try my best to recover your stuff."

"Thanks," Cheyenne smiled before picking up her bag and heading towards the garage.

It had been almost three years since Cheyenne drove a car. When she lived in the Foley Villa, she always had a driver to take her wherever she needed to go.

Now, as she touched the steering wheel, it felt like she was reclaiming something precious. Her delicate white hands caressed it for a while before tossing her bag onto the passenger seat and getting in.

Ewan couldn't help but worry when he saw Cheyenne getting behind the wheel. "Lady Cheyenne, should I find you a driver?"

"No need," Cheyenne replied confidently.

A few minutes later, a light pink Lamborghini appeared on the road with cartoon stickers all over it - beautiful yet garish. It was hard to believe that such an expensive car could be ruined by cheap stickers.

As she passed by a cake shop, Cheyenne suddenly remembered that her grandfather loved their cakes. She parked the car on the side of the road and rolled down her window.

Her fair and delicate face caught passers-by's attention. A young man in black leather jacket whistled and said to Jerome Witt who stood nearby, "Mr.Witt, look at that girl! She's got an amazing figure."

Jerome appeared to be around twenty-five years old, with a handsome and gentle face framed by silver-white hair. He was dressed in a white shirt and deep blue pants, looking exceptionally fresh and stylish.

Hearing that, Jerome took off his sunglasses and looked over just in time to see Cheyenne step out of her car wearing high heels and black lace dress which showed off her snow-white legs perfectly - elegant yet seductive with every move she made.

Unfortunately, she herself didn't realize how alluring she was. She turned to the car window and pursed her red lips, admiring her perfect profile.

"Nice, she's a beauty."

"Mr. Witt, how can you compliment another girl in front of me? I'll get angry," said the girl in a sweet voice.

She clung tightly to Jerome's arm as they walked.

Looking at Cheyenne with disdain and jealousy, she muttered under her breath, "Who is that little vixen? What a shameless woman trying to seduce Mr. Witt."

Unfortunately, Cheyenne heard every word. She stopped in her tracks and turned around.

Cheyenne had bright eyes and white teeth. Her almond-shaped eyes were bright while her red lips were luscious enough to make anyone swoon. Her smile was even more captivating.

With a smile on her face, Cheyenne walked towards them on high heels.

"M-Mr. Witt...that girl is coming over."

"Do I need you to tell me? I have eyes," replied Jerome as he patted that man's head before turning his gaze towards the approaching beauty who outshone everyone else around him by miles.

Jerome couldn't help but wonder who such a beautiful woman was.

"Is there something you need from me, pretty lady?" Jerome asked.

Cheyenne nodded innocently and intentionally softened her voice, making a shy expression on her face.

"You're quite handsome, but..." she paused and looked at the short-haired woman next to him. The latter was glaring at her with fiery eyes, clearly angry.

Wow, that look is so fierce!

"But what?" Jerome was interested in watching her lips open and close as she spoke. He felt an urge to kiss them.

"But you're trash and belong with the trash bin!" Cheyenne said suddenly. The air around them seemed to freeze instantly as the man's face turned cold.

"What did you say?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Do you need your ears checked? You're so young yet already hard of hearing! How pitiful!" Cheyenne retorted without fear in her voice.

"How dare you insult Mr. Witt like that? Do you want to die?" The man in black leather jacket glared at Cheyenne menacingly.

With a finger pointed at Cheyenne's nose, he made a gesture as if to hit her.

Before he could make a move, Cheyenne's high heels fiercely stomped on his instep and ground down hard.

The pain caused him to scream in agony.

"I hate it when people point their fingers at me."

Despite her innocent and delicate appearance, Cheyenne had an explosive temper that caught Jerome's attention.

He clapped his hands loudly, the sound echoing in Cheyenne's ears.

"Not bad. Beautiful and feisty. I like it. How much for one night?"

Who did this jerk think she was?

Cheyenne glared at him fiercely. "I doubt you can afford me."

"Is that so? Is $100,000 enough for one time?"

"Mr. Witt, what is so special about her?"

The short-haired woman was jealous to the point of madness. She had asked Mr. Witt out many times before he finally agreed to go shopping with her, but this strange woman appeared out of nowhere messed it up!