Fated love: the unwanted bride

“Sylvan Cheney, you have some nerve, don’t you?”

Jasmine Yale was so mad she dropped her fork.

Total disgust!

Sylvan elegantly took a tissue from the table, wiped his lips and calmly said, “I mentioned I haven’t eaten lunch.”

“Then you can order your own.”

“If I want to eat your noodles, I’ll eat your noodles. If I want to eat you, I’ll eat you.”

Throughout this, Sylvan remained unflustered, his face calm and indifferent.

Even this utterly shameless statement sounded as if it wasn’t made by him at all.

“Then finish eating, I’m leaving.”

Jasmine picked up her bag, intending to get up.

“Sit down!” commanded Sylvan.

Just as she was about to reach the private room door, Sylvan reached out, grabbing her wrist.

“So you don’t want to sit on the chair, do you prefer my lap, isn’t it?”

Sylvan gently stroked her chin with his slender fingers, while his other hand held her, coaxing her to sit on his lap.

“Mr. Cheney, let me be clear, I can’t possibly be a homewrecker!”

The thing she hated most in her life was a home-wrecker!

Therefore, she wouldn’t allow herself to become what she despised.

A homewrecker destroys other people’s families and should eventually end up in hell.

Sylvan squinted his incandescent eyes, fixating them on her face: “So accompanying me for a meal implies you’re a homewrecker?”

Jasmine turned her head away, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“I won’t be dining with you.”

In the past, as long as Sylvan wasn’t busy, he would come home for dinner.

Getting accustomed to eating at the same table somehow ended up feeling mundane.

Having a meal together, watching TV together, these were quite ordinary activities.

She assumed it would continue like that, like a quiet lake with no waves, no ripples.

However, looking back now—

Back then, everything just seemed so normal.

Sylvan forcefully pressed her back against the edge of the table, his burning gaze fixed on her face.

He showed no signs of backing off.

“If you won’t eat, then I’ll feed you!”

“Sylvan Cheney, could you perhaps be reasonable? Are you playing with a cat or feeding a rabbit? I’m not your pet.”

“But I’m used to feeding you,” Sylvan replied, his expression unchanging.

Jasmine remembered her early years at the Cheney Residence when she was young and would occasionally throw tantrums, refusing to eat.

Nobody could persuade her. If Tomer scolded her, she would cry.

At that time, Sylvan, unwilling to put up with her antics, would also reprimand her.

But she was soft-hearted and couldn’t stand being scolded, so she would cry if anyone did.

Her crying was unbearable. The whole Cheney residence would echo with her annoying sobs.

Whenever this happened, Sylvan would grab her by the clothes heaving her down.

“Why are you crying? Cry again, and I’ll throw you out!”

She was just a little girl at the time, though prone to crying, she was also scared of abandonment.

The feeling of being abandoned was deeply etched in her mind…

She clung onto Sylvan’s leg, looking at him with teary Red-Ringed eyes: “Don’t throw me out.”

She was scared, very scared.

She would starve.

She would get beaten.

Sylvan, who originally didn’t mean to scare her, seeing her trembling in fear realised that it’s not a joke to toy around with.

He bent down, wiping the tears from her face: “Then eat your food nicely.” “Mm,” She nodded obediently. “Can you feed me?”

It was unlikely that Sylvan would do such a thing, and he refused without hesitation.

“No.”

“Oh.” She jumped off the chair, disappointed.

She eating her food grain by grain until it was cold.

Sylvan could no longer stand to watch and snatched the spoon from her hand, feeding her when she was just eight years old.

At that time, he was only around fourteen or fifteen.

Back then, it seemed like just an ordinary act.

In the private room, Jasmine Yale lowered her gaze, her eyelashes glistening with tears..