She Became Rich After Divorce

Chapter 670: Regret of Leon

Gotta admit, the weddings of both the Lara and Weaver families were absolutely spectacular.

The guests who attended the weddings felt like they were in a dream, as if they were watching a movie.

The first time they attended the wedding, the groom ran away.

The second time they came to the wedding, the groom's room caught fire and he went missing.

Just moments ago, they were praising Miss Weaver's devotion, but upon further reflection, it's terrifying. Could it be that Miss Weaver is a black widow?

Why else would Omari's room catch fire? I heard he was dead drunk last night and probably still hasn't sobered up.

With the fire being so intense, a drunken person might have lost all feeling and, perhaps... couldn't find a way out because they had already turned into ashes. The one who regreted the most was none other than Leon.

At this moment, his complexion was gloomy and he was staring intently at the damaged French window on the second floor.

He silently prayed, hoping that Omari escaped by jumping out the window.

As long as he was safe, even if he didn't want to marry Miss Weaver, he would accept it. Nothing was more important than life.

However, after the fire was put out, the firefighters found a metal cross necklace with a circular pendant engraved with the words "Cheyenne". That familiar handwriting was Omari's for sure.

It must have been something he treasured dearly, always kept on him, otherwise it wouldn't have appeared at the scene of the fire.

Elsa, witnessing this scene, could no longer remain calm. Her calm facade was shattered, and a hint of mockery emerged in her brown eyes. "He can't forget her even in death, what a shame... I've lost interest in Omari now."

"I, Elsa, hereby declare the annulment of the union with the Lara family. I unilaterally break up with Omari Lara!"

"Mom, let's go."

She raised her hand and defiantly tore off her own veil.

The lightweight white lace veil was swiftly blown up by a gust of wind, twirling in the air like a feather before slowly descending.

The carefully arranged bridal hair was disheveled, and her cascading curls tumbled down.

The exorbitantly priced crown fell from mid-air to the ground, making a faint sound, the largest pearl in the center rolling away.

The luminous white pearls against the green grass created a fresh and clean contrast, then, the fallen veil covered them in the next moment.

She gracefully turned, lifting the hem of her white wedding gown, and decisively walked away.

Mrs. Weaver was gratified to see her daughter's resolute side.

"Mr. Lara, let's call off our cooperation. I will remember the humiliation your family bring upon mine."

Meanwhile, Leon, who was currently in a sorrowful state, was completely focused on worrying about his youngest son Omari's safety, and had no time to deal with this woman's nonsense.

When he heard her threatening remarks, Leon was completely unimpressed.

"If it's over then it's over. Without your Weaver family, you think I can't find any other partner in Onistead? Your daughter is a jinx, causing my son to

go missing. If you want to leave, then leave quickly!"

After being publicly embarrassed, Mrs. Weaver was so furious that she took off her high heels and marched over, holding them in her hand.

"You shameless old wretch, wasn't it you who actively sought this union in the first place? How dare you slander my daughter; watch as I teach you a lesson!"

Deep down, Leon was a gentleman who had received a good education, so it was impossible for him to physically engage with a woman in public. Instead, he chose to avoid the confrontation altogether. Mrs. Weaver's attack missed its target, and once she regained her balance, she launched a counterattack, leading to a chaotic scene.

Both Leon and Mrs. Weaver were influential figures in the Onistead city. If news of their public fight were to spread, it would have been a great blow to their reputations.

Unaware of her mother fighting behind her, Elsa walked away without turning back, oblivious to her mother seeking justice for her.

As the future head of the Lara

family, Hayden felt compelled to

step in and mediate between the two. Standing tall and imposing, his figure stood in the middle and

extended his long arm to keep them apart.

Despite his intervention, the two individuals continued bickering like children in a kindergarten. They exchanged words, incessantly arguing.

Leon: "If it weren't for not wanting to marry your daughter, my son wouldn't have committed suicide. Your had a dubious reputation in your youth. There's no way you could raise anyone good!" Mrs. Weaver: "If you had a good reputation, then why do you have an illegitimate child? Did you accidentally father Omari without realizing it?"

Leon: "Stop babbling nonsense!"

Mrs. Weaver: "Don't act innocent! It's your fault that your son attempted suicide!"

Suddenly, Leon fell silent. He gazed blankly ahead at the villa, destroyed by the raging fire. Omari had warned him that he wouldn't marry Miss Weaver, but he hadn't paid attention.

Life was like this-settling for less,

compromising, and moving on. Marriage was not like falling in love In love, one could be spoiled, capricious, and delight in sweetness. But in marriage, you might spend your entire life with someone you didn't love, reconciling to the

existence of each other.

If only he had been as brave as his son back then, his beloved might not have met an early demise.

Yet, his wife had given birth to their eldest son, and he was a responsible man.

However, he was a coward, a trait in which he was inferior to Omari.

"Hmph, let go of me!" Mrs. Weaver felt that she had won the argument and proudly lifted her chin towards the sky.

She pushed aside Hayden's arm, bent down, wore her shoes elegantly, and departed gracefully, leaving behind countless bewildered guests and journalists, who ultimately left the scene silently.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

Wind Hall.

The room was decorated in a traditional style, with wooden floors. In the center, there was a round table surrounded by eight chairs.

On the north wall hung a landscape painting.

Directly beneath the painting was a beautiful daybed, covered with a soft, white furry blanket.

On top of a pillow lay an exquisitely beautiful young woman.

Her chestnut wavy hair was gathered at her chest, partially covering its rounded softness, revealing a graceful curve from the side. The scene exuded warmth.

Yvonne sat beside her on the daybed, holding a warm towel in her hand, carefully applying it to the bruises on her back.

Yvonne's eyes were filled with distress and pity. "You have such delicate skin. These bruises will probably take quite some time to heal."