Fated love: the unwanted bride

“Mr. Cheney, you’re really at a loss. Feeding me is worse than feeding a cat.” Sylvan Cheney sneered, “What loss? A cat… where would it be as interesting as you?”

“Heh, you rich folks sure have unique hobbies, raising a person just to be a pet? Would you like me to meow for you?”

Jasmine Yale wasn’t joking with him. She was just… disappointed.

Sylvan Cheney’s eyes turned cold, as he suddenly recalled the note he had seen during the day.

“They say I’m his little pet – that he’ll discard me once he’s done playing. I am not a pet, I am not a pet, I am not…”

The handwriting on the note showed clear signs of helplessness.

He knew that the inferiority complex she had since childhood was often impossible to remove.

“Mr. Cheney,” Jasmine Yale spoke slowly again, “If you don’t treat me as a person, I have no complaints. After all, my life is the one you gave me. But, everyone has their dignity.”

For some reason, Sylvan Cheney was a bit irritated.

She took a simple joke seriously? She never did before!

In the past, he had said similar things.

But she just laughed it off and playfully scratched him with her hand, “You actually called me a cat, where is the cat as cute as me!”

He couldn’t stand her scratching and had no choice but to admit it.

“Yes, you’re cuter than a cat.”

“That’s right. I’m so cute, do you want to feed me a chip?” She opened her mouth.

He was helpless, so he tossed a chip into her mouth.

As a result, she bit his finger.

He frowned, “That’s right. You aren’t a cat, you are a little dog, a dog that bites.”

Back then, she laughed out loud and never stopped messing around with him.

She even imitated the barking of a little dog.

When she was playing around, he cracked a slight smile.

Now though, she’s taking things so seriously?

He impatiently said, “Stop talking nonsense. Fetch your clothes and go back to sleep!”

Jasmine Yale left with a sarcastic smirk.

She had no clothes to wear so she had to go to Sylvan Cheney’s room.

Unavoidably, she saw his large bed.

Her face turned flaming red.

On that bed, they had slept together. That night had been… unbearable to recall.

Alcohol can confuse desires, she believed that now.

She remembers that the next day when she woke up, her legs were trembling.

She did not know how many times that beast had her during the night.

But she knew it was more than once.

The blood-red and dirty white stains on the bed sheet were shocking. When she woke up, she was at a loss.

Then, Tomer came in.

Tomer understood everything but said nothing.

At the time, Jasmine Yale’s face was flushed red, and she wished she could just disappear into a crack in the ground.

At this moment, Jasmine Yale’s face was still flushed, as red as a cooked shrimp.

She averted her gaze from the bed and quickly opened the wardrobe.

Unexpectedly, there were a lot of new clothes!

Dresses, shirts, pajamas, coats… everything was there, filling an entire wardrobe.

Moreover, there were various styles and colors, and many of the tags were still hanging.

Were these new clothes… prepared for his wife?

Jasmine Yale withdrew her hand. These clothes… she shouldn’t touch.

He had a fear of germs. If she touched them, he would likely have them all thrown out.

She opened another wardrobe, adjacent to the first one.

But, this one was filled with Sylvan Cheney’s clothes.

The colors were very monotonous, primarily black, and white, neatly arranged.

There were only two wardrobes, so what should she wear?

She couldn’t touch the new clothes, so… should she wear his?

Actually, it wasn’t the first time she’d worn his clothes.

He was tall, so if she wore his shirt, it was basically like wearing pajamas..