Fated love: the unwanted bride

As Jasmine Yale was about to say something more, a steward approached from the entrance.

Noticing her on the phone, he gestured and mouthed to her—

“Miss Yale, it’s time to board.”

Jasmine Yale nodded her approval.

“Mr. Cheney, I’m hanging up. I wish never to see you again, if I can avoid it.”

With that, she hung up her phone and took her luggage.

As she finished speaking, her heart pounded strongly in her chest.

The scenes from that morning were still vivid before her eyes, too clear to wipe away.

She rolled her luggage out of the door.

Joe Heath had told her he was a ruthless person who prioritized his interests.

He could be extremely cruel to achieve his goals.

So, she was still valuable to him?

If she could, she, too, wanted to trust Sylvan Cheney, but…he had never opened up to her before.

There was a profound sense of confusion and endlessness in Jasmine Yale’s heart.

Despite sharing a life with the man for twelve years, she had never truly understood him.

As Joe Heath had said, she knew nothing about his family background.

He had never shared anything with her.

Never.

“Miss Yale, this way, please.”

Outside the door, someone was leading Jasmine Yale to board the plane.

The moment she stepped into the cabin, she looked back at the airport and the ground—

She had lived in this city for fifteen years.

Initially, she didn’t belong here, so leaving didn’t cause too much sentimentality.

The cabin door closed, and the airplane took off.

Blue sea and sky, heavy white clouds.

Sylvan Cheney sat in his Rolls Royce, his brows darkened, his face gloomy.

His knuckles had turned white, and his chiseled yet gloomy face became colder, as if steeped in ice.

The car stopped at the hospital entrance.

As sunlight shone in, Sylvan Cheney’s face turned ghastly pale.

Soon, a doctor approached.

“Mr. Cheney, here is the report you asked for.” Cloaked in his white coat, Doctor Zaila approached.

He took the report out from the brown paper envelope and respectfully handed it to the man inside the car.

Sylvan Cheney accepted it.

He knew the result, whether he looked at it or not.

“Has a third person found out?” Sylvan Cheney lifted his eyes.

“No, Mr. Cheney. I conducted the report myself,”

“Hmm, you go back.”

“Okay.”

Doctor Zaila closed the car door and left.

Only then did Sylvan Cheney unfold the brown paper and take out the paternity test report from inside.

As he scanned it from top to bottom—

The report results held no surprises.

His inscrutable eyes grew more profound and unfathomably cold.

He put the report back into the brown paper along with his ring.

The phone vibrated once.

Sylvan Cheney frowned.

Several text messages – not words, but pictures.

He flipped through them one by one.

The pictures only featured Jasmine Yale and Joe Heath, nobody else.

Joe Heath’s Porsche was all too familiar to him.

In the car, Jasmine Yale was seen sleeping, leaning against the window.

Joes’s gaze rested on Jasmine’s face, affectionate and gentle, his hand stroking her long hair.

A deep repression and tolerance flickered in Sylvan Cheney’s eyes. Two ungrateful wretches.

Once again calling Jasmine Yale, the person on the other end had already switched off the phone!

Sylvan Cheney hit the gas, speeding off.

At the hospital entrance, a woman who had been hiding for a long time finally came out.

Lana Fern blinked in uncertainty.

What…is Mr. Cheney doing at the hospital?

Strange, Mr. Cheney has always taken good care of his health, so why would he visit a hospital?

Moreover, the Cheney Residence had a family doctor.

Most importantly, she had noticed that Sylvan Cheney hadn’t even gotten out of the car.

Shrugging off her perplexity, Lana Fern stealthily walked into the hospital..