She Became Rich After Divorce

Chapter 645: 99 Roses

"What did you do to her just now?"

Suddenly, Gracie heard a clear voice from the back seat, and the car slowed down.

Glancing at the handsome man sitting in the back seat through the rearview mirror, Gracie withdrew her gaze and curved her red lips into a slight smile. "Yes, I intended to hypnotize her to inquire about the map, but I didn't expect her to wake up from my hypnosis."

"Is this the first time?"

"Yes, I have never had such a failure since I started learning."

Master Sam, upon hearing this, seemed to have anticipated it long ago. He laughed nonchalantly and even praised Cheyenne at this moment.

"I told you before, she is unique with amazing intelligence, willpower, abilities... she surpasses ordinary people in every aspect."

Gracie expressed her helplessness, "Master Sam, sarcasm is fine, but if we can't find out the location of the map, our mission will be impossible to complete."

Little did she know that he had no intention of giving up just because they couldn't obtain the map. "No rush, the game is getting more interesting. I'm looking forward to what surprises amnesiac Cheyenne can bring me."

As for the map, if they couldn't get it, it might as well be all given to Cheyenne.

With her intelligence and wit, she would surely be able to find what they were looking for.

After returning to the hotel, Cheyenne immediately went back to her room. Without even changing her clothes, she took out the small box she had obtained from the attic.

Opening it, she found a thin sheepskin map inside.

She slowly unfolded the map. It was different from the maps she had seen before. There were no directional indicators, scale ratios, or ordinary geographical labels she had learned in class.

It only had a winding line, with a peculiar black triangular symbol filled with dotted lines near the line.

There was a small flag on the map, resembling both a destination and a starting point.

Strange, twhere did she see his map before?

A series of short knocks suddenly interrupted her thoughts. A familiar male voice came from outside the door, hoarse and slightly intoxicated. "Cheyenne, are you asleep?"

It's Benso.

Without thinking too much, Cheyenne didn't put the map away on the desktop. Instead, she got up and walked to the door, opening it. What greeted her was a large bunch of pink roses.

The delicate petals were adorned with glistening dewdrops, and the deep green leaves indicated that they were freshly picked.

The room was filled with the fragrance of roses, and behind the flowers was the extraordinary handsome face with two rare traces of blood. He's injured!

Cheyenne's pupils contracted, and her slender fingers lightly touched his face as she softly asked, "Benson, the blood on your face..."

"Oh, it's nothing. I must have accidentally pricked myself with a rose thorn."

He elegantly smiled, casually using the back of his hand to wipe his face.

In the instant he raised his hand, Cheyenne's gaze froze on his hand. That long and perfect hand, with distinct joints, hands suitable for playing musical instruments, was now covered in wounds and bloodstains, with faint traces of soil.

She grabbed his wrist, her eyes reddened, staring at his hand. The palm of his hand was torn, with rose thorns still embedded in the center.

It must have been painful.

"Benson, why would you do something so foolish? Don't you know how precious your hands are?"

Although Cheyenne's voice sounded harsh, as if she were "reprimanding" him, Benson laughed.

In order to give her these ninety-nine roses, he personally went to the flower farm and learned about the cultivation, packaging, and care of roses. Because he had never done this kind of work before, his first attempt was tortuous and time-consuming. He kept-getting pricked while removing the thorns.

But whenever he thought of the happy smile on Cheyenne's face when she saw these roses, he didn't feel the pain. On the contrary, he was filled with motivation.Content property of NôvelDra/ma.Org.

He was determined to remove all those thorns.

Benson will present these ninety-nine roses in front of Cheyenne.

He can now see Cheyenne's happy and joyful smile.

But when Benson lowered his head and saw the tears swirling in her eyes, he suddenly panicked. He nervously watched as the teardrop rolled down her eyelashes.

He reached out to catch it, and the tear fell into his palm, scorching hot.

"Cheyenne, don't cry. What's wrong? Is it that the flowers are not beautiful, or you don't like roses?"

He remembered that Cheyenne liked roses, especially pink ones.

The first time he saw her was at the entrance of a flower shop. She was a little girl, dressed in dirty clothes, squatting there carefully picking up a pink rose, inhaling its fragrance.

A small white butterfly trembled and landed on the tip of her nose, creating a scene as warm and harmonious as a fairy tale.

At that moment, her eyes were shining brightly.

Her smile on her face was pure and beautiful, because of the beauty of a flower, and the delightful fragrance.

He would never forget it.

Cheyenne took the bouquet and placed it on the nearby table. Then she turned around and walked back, holding his hand and leading him to the table.

"It's not about the flowers. It's about you, Benson. You don't know how to take care of yourself. I'm angry. Look at your hands, so many wounds. Doesn't it hurt?" Moreover, even though he had finished his exams, he would soon face the even more challenging mentor interview.

How could he play if his hands were full of injuries by the time he went on stage?

As she spoke, Cheyenne firmly pressed his shoulder, making him sit obediently at the table while she quickly walked to the cabinet in the living room.

She bent down to search for a first aid kit.

Usually, hotels would have such things prepared, and she had discovered it on her first day of staying here.

Cheyenne was earnestly searching

for the first aid kit, while Benson

looked at her busy figure and felt her

genuine care for him. The

tenderness and deep affection in his eyes grew even stronger.

"Cheyenne, I'm really fine."

"If you don't treat the wound, it can easily lead to tetanus. Just wait for me."

He really couldn't do anything about her. In fact, it was just a minor injury.

He had experienced torment that was a hundred times, a thousand times worse than this. Such trivial physical pain didn't bother him at all.

As Benson turned his head, his gaze fell on the map she had placed on the table, partially obscured by the roses. He moved the flowers aside a bit, and the clear image of the map appeared before him.

The words that were about to come out of his mouth were swallowed back because of Cheyenne's presence.