She Became Rich After Divorce

Chapter 283: Principal Shepard Is My Cousin

Chapter 283: Principal Shepard is My Cousin

#Akloit College: Things You Must Know#

Today, this post has set the entire internet on fire stirred up a heated discussion. Various magazines, newspapers, and platforms have successively exposed "astonishing insider information."

A very short and noisy recording has stirred up a huge discussion among netizens. Today's news, no matter which headline you click on, is full of headlines such as: "Century-old Academy Resorts to Deception", "How to Achieve Fair and Free Educational Resources?", "Akloit College is in the Spotlight Again! Poisoning, Dropout, Backdoor Admission... Is this a school or a sanctuary for the wealthy?", "Canceling Aristocratic Education is Imperative: The Voices of Thousands of Students."

Danielle, seeing these trending discussions, couldn't be happier! But she felt it wasn't enough. She uploaded the edited video to the internet. The video showed Cheyenne slapping Peyton twice in a row, and from her selected perspective, Peyton appeared helpless, like a lamb being bullied with no power to fight back. Cheyenne was assertive, and her icy smile on her face resembled those beautiful and ruthless female villains from TV dramas.

Many people who were unaware of the truth at Akloit College were furious when they learned that the principal had personally arranged special treatment for this "problematic student."

Reporters interviewed Cheyenne's teachers from her primary and secondary schools, and they all described her as the most "naughty" student they had ever taught. She had stolen food from the cafeteria, slept in class, scored zero in exams, argued with teachers, and even associated with delinquents outside who bullied classmates. They had suggested expelling Cheyenne several

times, but the principal was always hesitant, giving vague excuses. When she passed the college entrance exam and immediately became Mrs. Foley, who dared to offend her?

The online criticism grew louder and more intense. The female journalist who initially reposted the post about Akloit College had now become a Twitter influencer with a million followers.

#The Life of Cheyenne, Abandoned by an Aristocratic Family#

#Are Wealthy Second-Generation People Naturally Superior?# Come see the efforts of thousands of impoverished students @Akloit College Principal Shepard.

When Cheyenne finally learned about the incident, it was the next morning. A crowd of people had gathered at her doorstep. They were making noise, and it had disrupted her sleep. She hurriedly got out of bed in her pajamas, pushed open the window, and looked down. She wondered when her address had been exposed to the public.

There was a swarm of reporters below, all holding cameras and frantically taking pictures of the villa. What was even more terrifying was that she had no idea when they discovered her. Suddenly, someone shouted, "Look, isn't that Cheyenne?"

"Where? Where?"

"I found her! Her long pink sunflower t-shirt looks so cute. She's just woken up!"

The young reporter who spoke seemed a bit disoriented, with shoulder-length student hair and a pair of excited and infatuated eyes. She had just graduated and was assigned to follow Cheyenne as her first task. She had spent the previous night researching and realized that many contradictions surrounded this beautiful girl. In the eyes of others, it seemed that she was nothing but a pretty face.

However, the young reporter had found her participation in the calligraphy and painting competition and the incident with the popular actress Juliana. If Cheyenne were really just a spoiled and brainless girl, how could she have gained the approval of Mr. Chambers from the Calligraphy and Painting Association? Even the renowned Mr. Owen from Hopedale Hospital personally requested her as his "successor."

By the window, Cheyenne's oversized white t-shirt did not hide her graceful figure. She leaned against the window, appearing weak and lazy. Her small head was slightly tilted, and she rested her chin on her hand, her sleepy eyes filled with anger.

"You all..."

"Miss Lawrence, we have a few questions we'd like to ask you. Are you available?"

"No."

"Don't be like this, Miss Lawrence. Regarding the online posts, what are your thoughts? Is it true as they say, that Akloit College's principal is your relative?"

"My cousin."

She flipped her hair strands on her chest and looked down at the crowd with a disdainful smile, raising her swan-like neck as she rolled her eyes. The sudden movement left everyone stunned.

The window was closed again, and her figure disappeared, leaving only the faint morning breeze, gently blowing by. It was only then that the crowd realized the immense irony contained in the phrase "my cousin." Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

In a bedroom of the Foley mansion.

After the servant had delivered the morning newspaper and breakfast, they quickly exited the room. Just as they gently closed the door, a loud and crisp voice resounded from within.

"Rubbish! It's all nonsense!"

Even through the thick door, the angry voice of the old man could be heard. The servant hesitated, contemplating whether to go in and check on the situation.

Just then, a tall figure in a black bathrobe approached. The man had wet short hair clinging to his temples. He walked with long, sturdy legs, wearing slippers.

"Master Kelvin."

"You can leave."

Kelvin rubbed his slightly painful brow. He had worked late into the night until after four in the morning, and not long after he had fallen asleep, he was awakened by a violent fit of coughing.

He immediately left the work files and came to check on his grandfather. The door opened to reveal a dimly lit room with a bedside lamp casting a warm glow. The window was drawn, and the silver- haired grandfather sat half-upright at the edge of the bed, intently reading a newspaper.

He coughed while muttering to himself, "These people are truly brainless. How can they think Cheyenne is just a pretty face? This little girl is remarkable."

"Grandfather." Kelvin called out with his head bowed.

Old Mr. Foley seemed to have ignored him as his gaze remained fixed on the newspaper. After a while, he finally seemed to remember something. He raised his head and inquired, "By the way, where's my phone?"

Kelvin, exasperated, fetched the phone from a drawer and handed it to his grandfather. He offered a warning, "You can use your phone, but don't use it for too long. It's not good for your eyes."

Old Mr. Foley harrumphed, his temper flaring. "Who said I'm going to use my phone? I want to support Cheyenne.'"

Kelvin had wanted to get him a smartphone, but his grandfather preferred the quiet and simpler life he was used to, saying that he didn't need a new one.