She Became Rich After Divorce

Chapter 285: Kelvin'S Speciality: The Cold Shoulder

Chapter 285: Kelvin's Speciality: The Cold Shoulder

Above seven adorable kids, there were numbers labeled from 1 to 7.

Old Mr. Foley pointed an arrow at one of the cute kids and wrote some words.

[Number One Kelvin Foley, Special Skill: The Cold Shoulder, Instant face darkening.]

Many netizens were curious about who the other six adorable kids were.

[Sir Reginald Hargreeves is so cute! I'm officially a fan. I'm coming for my two million! Time to praise Cheyenne, PS: It's genuine praise.]

[Holy cow! I'm laughing so hard. Except for Old Mr. Foley himself, who dares to joke about Mr. Foley like this, haha.]

[Why do I feel like Kelvin doesn't look like a biological child?]

[Two million! Two million! I'm in! Even if I'm illiterate, I'll grab a dictionary and join in.]

[Grandpa, I'm your child too. Can you give me a little allowance, please?]

The second wave of online frenzy began. The Chairman of the Foley Group, known for his cuteness, stood up for Cheyenne, and the news about the two million Twitter giveaway went viral.

And the statement, "My eldest grandson has low IQ," was a slap in the face to many tycoons in the financial world.

For Kelvin to become Akloit's richest person, his financial acumen was out of their league. He had built a multinational corporation from just one million in liquid assets.

His portfolio covered electronics, the internet, technology, securities, department stores, hotels, and even the jewelry industry.

His financial investment skills, where money made more money, made him a leader in the industry. To say he had low IQ was audacious...

Many other business moguls, who were overshadowed by Kelvin, jokingly claimed to have low IQs too.

Mr. Owen only had time to check his phone during the lunch break and was surprised to find people online badmouthing his junior. He didn't hesitate and immediately liked old Mr. Foley's tweet.

He left a comment as well, saying, "Thanks to old Mr. Foley for supporting my junior. A great favor deserves a great return. You'll have a lifetime VIP service at my hospital."

Being a VIP at Hopedale Hospital was a privilege that money couldn't buy. It meant having unconditional access to expert consultations, VIP rooms, and premium nursing care whenever you were ill. However, it wasn't a gift anyone wanted, given that nobody wants to get sick.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves: "Rolling my eyes. Since you're Cheyenne's senior, does that mean you should call me 'grandpa' too?"

Mr. Owen: "We were born in the same year!"

Netizens watched with amusement as these two old men engaged in such a childish argument.

Mr. Owen, a medical heavyweight, was usually very low-key and remarkably scandal-free. Many of his former students were grateful for having such a good teacher, and numerous cured patients were a testament to his expertise. His office was adorned with numerous awards and accolades.

The accomplished medical expert, known for his outstanding medical skills and ethics, humorously posted two updates on his Twitter page.

"The previous tweets were all handled by the young folks in the media department. I just logged in today and realized I had an account! They're quite naughty, didn't even give me VIP access or update my profile picture."

The second post was filled with scientific data, documents, and a lengthy thesis and personal viewpoints spanning over a thousand words. It aimed to refute online claims about Cheyenne using connections and shortcuts. Mr. Owen used her scientific accomplishments and medical awards to debunk these assertions.

Cheyenne, at just fourteen, had won the second most prestigious award in the medical field, only second to the Nobel Prize in Biology. At fourteen, she was still in junior high school. Some online rumors painted her as a misbehaving student who skipped classes, got into fights, and slept all day.

The award-winning medical achievement left Cheyenne's junior high school teachers wide-eyed, wondering why the school hadn't made any announcements about such a significant achievement. As for Cheyenne herself, she didn't utter a word about it, simply enjoying her earnings.

Mr. Owen, in his article's conclusion, expressed regret, "Becoming famous at such a young age is bound to affect her future development. That's why we decided to quietly nurture this hidden talent. Little did we know that in the years to come, this young lady would be delayed by us old folks."

Layne suddenly came online, liked Mr. Owen's article, but beneath old Mr. Foley's Twitter giveaway, he wrote just two simple words: "Not necessary!" This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

Old Mr. Foley felt awkward and quickly explained, "I didn't post this on Kelvin's behalf; I posted it in my personal capacity."

Layne retweeted Mr. Owen's article and followed old Mr. Foley's Twitter giveaway model, but he was even more generous. The prize amount was set at five million, with twenty winners, increasing the chances of winning.

Twitter giveaways became a sensation, with many netizens glued to their screens, unwilling to take their eyes off the seven million within reach.

Those who had been doubting Cheyenne's relationship with Principal Shepard were once again left red-faced.

The official account of the Calligraphy and Painting Association issued an announcement. The Association's Vice President, Rex, posted several astonishing messages:

[Congratulations to Cheyenne! Her new work, "Competition Painting," has been successfully auctioned for thirty million. The funds have been deposited, please check your account!]

[Congratulations to Cheyenne, her oil painting "Mountain Dwelling" has been collected by the National Museum. The reward amount is one million, please check your account.]

[Congratulations to Cheyenne, the Association officially invites you to become a member. Please reply as soon as possible.]

Unbelievable! She had painted just three pictures that day, in a little over half an hour, and they sold for a total of thirty-one million. One of them was even collected by the National Museum. With such remarkable talent, who would think she needed any shortcuts?