She Became Rich After Divorce

Chapter 229: Omari'S Past (Part One)

Chapter 229: Omari's Past (Part One)

On February 23, 2014, nearing the end of the year, a cold front blew in from the northwest and made its way through the flat plains. Akloit had been experiencing light rain for half a month straight with daytime temperatures only reaching three degrees Celsius.

A bright black Porsche Cayenne drove through the rain and stopped in front of an old residential building located in an alleyway that had been around for many years. The surrounding area was filled with low-rise buildings.

The alleyway was so narrow that once the car entered it, it took up the entire space. The tires rolled over cobblestones and black sewage water mixed with rainwater jumped out and flowed into a drain along with gravity.

The air was filled with a foul smell of groundwater that resembled rotting dead mice or stinky eggs.

Sitting inside her luxury car, Laurel wrinkled her nose in disgust and covered it with her handkerchief before taking out limited edition Chanel perfume from her purse to spray herself. She said disdainfully, "Can people even live here? I've seen pig farms more upscale than this! I can't believe there are still such backward places like this in Akloit; they're really holding back city development."

The middle-aged man driving looked to be around forty years old. He wore a black suit paired with matching trousers and his hair was neatly combed despite his ruggedly handsome face showing signs of aging. It was clear he must have been quite handsome when he was younger.

"Laurel, watch your words," he warned sternly. "What do you mean by saying people can't live here?"

This was Akloit's slum area which may only occupy one-tenth of Akloit's land but houses forty percent of its population.

The small shabby houses were packed tightly together like sardines; each small window represented one household where families lived cramped lives like hardworking ants struggling to make ends meet.

Most residents were migrant workers who came from remote mountainous areas to work at nearby factories or ports selling their labor for survival.

Laurel sneered as she spoke; she wasn't even being harsh enough on these homes which couldn't compare to even doghouses prepared for her beloved pets.

Only dirty uneducated low-class people lived here.

Her eyes flashed briefly with cold resentment as she clenched her fists tightly wondering why on earth her husband chose such a woman born into poverty?

Laurel Walsh came from an aristocratic family where she excelled at everything including music, chess artistry, flower arrangement, tea ceremonies but ultimately lost out to someone who grew up in poverty-stricken slums!

Her husband had cheated on her with another woman and had a son with her. If it weren't for the sudden death of that woman, her husband would never have brought their illegitimate child back into their lives. And to think that the boy was already sixteen years old! Her own son was only eighteen this year.

In other words, he had cheated on her in just their second year of marriage. And with a woman who wasn't even as good as she was!

The luxurious car parked in a small courtyard that was dilapidated and run-down, made up of the earliest tile-roofed houses covered in weeds. Whenever it rained, water would leak into the house.

There were seven or eight households crammed together sharing one faucet and toilet, making it narrow and dirty.

It was noon now, and people who had just finished working in the morning were returning home to cook. A fat middle-aged woman crouched down before a small stove came into view first.

Thick blue smoke billowed out from the stove as she squatted down before it blowing fiercely at its mouthpiece with pursed lips.

She wore an oversized yellow floral cotton-padded jacket paired with black cotton pants; this posture made her look bloated beyond recognition.

She was the first person to see the luxury car pull up outside their courtyard gate; envy immediately flashed across her square face even though she didn't know what brand of car it was but could tell by looking at it that it must be worth quite a bit.

She knew almost everything about everyone living around here, but no one had ever mentioned having rich relatives.

The plump woman forgot all about cooking when she saw someone get out of such an expensive car right outside where they lived!

The door opened, revealing a woman who looked about the same age as herself but much slimmer and more delicate-looking than she did, like someone still in their thirties.

Wearing two-piece Chanel-style clothing paired with white high-heeled shoes while carrying an LV embroidered handbag along with curly hair adorned by lustrous pearl earrings, she was exquisite and noble.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Beside her stood an elegant man dressed smartly in his suit exuding both sharpness and dominance. His shiny black leather shoes were tapping rhythmically against ground surface.

"Excuse me... Is Angel West living here?"

Angel? The sickly lady?

The chubby woman stared dumbfoundedly at the man in front of her, her greedy eyes fixed on him. He was obviously a big shot, and he was so handsome! The woman next to him was even more decked out in luxury. They were clearly loaded!

"Who are you guys? What do you want with my mom?" A hoarse voice suddenly sounded from behind them. It belonged to a teenage boy who seemed to be going through puberty - his voice was somewhere between mature and awkward, leaving a lasting impression.

The man turned around to face the boy standing before him - he looked about sixteen or seventeen years old. He wore a slightly yellowed white shirt that wasn't warm enough for this cold weather, paired with thin jeans and white canvas shoes.

He stood tall, reaching up to the man's shoulders but looking quite skinny; even his shirt seemed loose on him.

With sharp eyebrows and bright eyes that exuded confidence without showing any emotion, he looked just like... him.

Angel had left with their child when Omari was only four or five years old; Leon Lara still remembered what Omari looked like as a chubby little kid. But now he had grown into such an upright young man.

Leon had thought Angel took the million dollars his mother gave her and left him for good - she wouldn't have ended up on the streets with that amount of money. But it turned out she never took it

at all; instead she left alone with their child to make ends meet as a single mother working odd jobs.

If not for finding out about her terminal illness recently, Leon might never have known where Angel and Omari were all these years due to her stubbornness...

It made Leon love and hate Angel.

Being someone who didn't express emotions easily, Leon stood there with tears welling up in his eyes.

The teenager remained unusually calm throughout this exchange though; after giving them both an indifferent glance, he said quietly, "Let's go inside."

Upstairs there was only one room: small but clean-looking space separated by using one bed sheet as curtain divider. There lay one single bed covered by paperboard sheets topped off by thin white floral bedding without even having pillows which were replaced by dictionaries instead.

Leon felt his nose tingle while feeling heavy-hearted inside. Was this how Angel lived these past ten years?