She Became Rich After Divorce (Cheyenne and Kelvin) novel Chapter 582

Chapter 582: Blank Memories

Kelvin. Did Kelvin really die like that?

No. She didn't believe it!

How could he die? How could he be so cruel as to die right in front of her?

From the moment the explosion reached her ears to the cries that filled the surroundings, glass shards continued to fall from above.

Rustling sounds, all blocked by Benson.

Her brain remained in a blank, frozen state, to the point that she couldn't even hear clearly what Benson whispered to her with a gentle voice.

He said,

"Cheyenne, don't be afraid. This is just a temporary darkness; the light will always come."

"I will always, always be with you, protecting you. Let me put an end to the painful memories he gave you."

"Cheyenne, don't be sad. Everyone has to die. Kelvin ran forward before his death to protect you."

"Cheyenne... Forget everything about today, you will have so much more."

Forget it?

With teary eyes, Cheyenne lifted her head and met those unfocused eyes, deep as the ocean, pitch black.

In this darkness, a green dot gradually spun, forming a bud about to bloom.

And it bloomed.

So beautiful!

Her vision went dark, and she lost consciousness. Her body fell into a warm embrace, like a withered leaf carried by the wind.

Benson held her waist, his icy fingertips caressing her fair and delicate cheek, and he gently kissed her.

"Cheyenne, sleep well. When you wake up, everything will be fine. Don't be afraid, I will always be with you."

No one could believe that on this ordinary night, in this safe city, an explosion occurred.

The renowned billionaire of Akloit, the famous Mr. Kelvin Foley, died in this explosion.

According to witnesses that night, they saw him walk to the car and pick up a bag containing a timed bomb, which detonated, obliterating him.

Later, the police found white ashes in the aftermath of the explosion.

The destroyed villa was the residence of Mr. Foley's former wife, Cheyenne. Although she survived, the villa was engulfed in smoke.

She herself disappeared after the fire. It was rumored that her face was destroyed.

One month later, it had started to snow in Onistead. There was heating in the house, and the wooden floor provided some insulation, so even in winter, it didn't feel cold indoors.

A sleeping woman lay on the sofa near the window. The snow outside reflected on her face, enhancing her fair and cold complexion, as if she were a beautiful painting.

Unaware of what she was dreaming about, tears slid down her cheeks.

In the next moment, they were gently wiped away by a large hand.

In those crystal-clear and deep eyes, all that reflected was the slender figure of a woman.

"What did you dream about? Why are you so sad?" he whispered softly in her ear.

"I just can't understand what's so good about her. Is she worth you willingly being blind for three years?" a cold and mocking voice suddenly came from behind.

High-heeled shoes clicked on the wooden floor, making a sound that caused the sleeping beauty to furrow her brows.

Benson turned his head to look, his gaze firm as he stared at the comer, his indifferent voice carrying a significant warning.

"Keep your voice down. Cheyenne has only fallen asleep not long ago."

The woman didn't care about his warning and crossed her arms, walking up to the front of the sofa and stopping.

The Presidential Library was a place that housed all kinds of books from ancient and modern times, from all over the world. It only opened once every ten years.

The last time it opened was thirteen years ago, and Cheyenne's grandfather, Layne, was among those who entered it.

It is said that Layne saw this image inside the library, which led him to resign from his position and return to Akloit. People outside speculated that he must have discovered something significant within the library.

"I understand, there's no need for you to remind me. I'll decide when and what to do. You don't have the authority to lecture me," Benson replied arrogantly.

Seemingly accustomed to his attitude, the woman chuckled lightly, her delicate hand twirling a strand of long chestnut hair absentmindedly.

"Glad that you know, but don't let personal feelings cloud your judgment and make you forget your identity!"

With those words, she left on high heels.

The room returned to tranquility, as if no one had ever been there. The figure sleeping on the sofa had changed her position, her hands clasped beneath her cheeks, and her cherry-red lips murmured a few words.

Adorably cute.

As Benson watched her, all his troubles vanished, and a gentle smile graced his handsome face. Identity? What identity? He only knew that he was Benson, Cheyenne's Benson.

Cheyenne's dream continued.

Fire.

Flames burned in the night sky, resembling clusters of small mushrooms rising.

Faintly, she heard someone calling her name.

Cheyenne.

Live well...

Who was it?

Who was calling her?