This medicine was personally given by old Mr. Foley. He knew how potent it was. It was no longer safe to stay here.
With a face filled with joy and anticipation, he dismissed the housekeeper and the servants. As he turned, he noticed Emelia standing there dumbfounded. Old Mr. Foley approached her and gave her a pat on the head.
"What are you still standing here for? Go."
"Grandfather, you..."
Why would he drug Cheyenne's soup?
This question remained unspoken. Emelia struggled to find the words, but she couldn't resist her grandfather's sharp gaze, so she turned and left.
In the room, Cheyenne sat barefoot at the edge of the bed. She gave a cold, distant glance to the tall figure still standing in the room. She chuckled lightly, "Mr. Foley, you can leave too. I'm tired and need to rest."
With that, she got up and walked towards the bathroom. As she opened the closet, she noticed that her clothes were still there, all the ones she had worn before, not Abbie's. This realization brought some relief to Cheyenne; she wasn't used to wearing clothes that others had worn.
After issuing a clear dismissal, she seemed to ignore Kelvin and walked into the bathroom. Soon, the sound of running water echoed through the room.
The hazy glass door reflected the woman's blurred figure, and it could be vaguely seen that she was slowly undoing the buttons of her shirt at her waist.
Just this glimpse made Kelvin's body seem to catch fire.
The air was filled with a palpable heat, and it seemed as if some kind of exciting hormone had been added to his bloodstream, causing it to flow even faster.
He must have been suppressed sensual passion for too long, which was why even a single glance at her could elicit such a response.
In hindsight, he hadn't been with anyone since the divorce.
Kelvin felt that he also needed to freshen up, but as he reached for the door, he realized something was wrong.
He couldn't open it!
Someone had locked the door from the outside.
He strode over to the window, pulled the curtain aside, and saw his grandfather with two servants using wooden planks and a hammer to seal the window shut.
"Grandfather! What are you doing?"
He pounded on the glass window, making a loud banging sound, but it was all in vain. The people outside continued their work.
Old Mr. Foley looked at him with extreme disdain, blew on his graying beard, and said impatiently, "It's all because you're so useless! If you'd made Cheyenne give a child earlier, she wouldn't have been heartless enough to divorce you. Now, I'm helping you out, so you'd better appreciate it."
What did he mean?
"Grandfather, you can't do this!"
He could only imagine how furious Cheyenne would be if she came out of the bathroom and saw him still here.
"Alright, the effects of the drug are probably taking hold. If you were even a bit useful, I wouldn't have to resort to this. Kelvin, if you have any ability, prove yourself, or else don't blame me for kicking you out."
After saying that, old Mr. Foley even tested the sturdiness of the window with his hand, patted it to his satisfaction, and left the second floor.
As he walked, he gave instructions to the housekeeper, "Most of the guests downstairs have left. Have the servants tidy up quickly. Oh, and lock up the second floor tonight. No one is allowed up there."
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