Fated love: the unwanted bride

Something was slowly coalescing in Sylvan Cheney’s heart, that something was named jealousy.

His gaze turned cold, chilly as the wind.

Jasmine Yale frowned, still not speaking?

Given Joe Heath’s character, he should have been babbling incessantly.

Jasmine Yale rubbed her temples: “Joe Heath, did you get drunk or did you call the wrong number again? It’s already eleven o’clock.”

“Jasmine Yale.” Sylvan Cheney said.

The deep, frigid voice made Jasmine Yale’s heart leap!

The phone almost slipped from her hand!

Sylvan Cheney?

Why would it be him?!

Her palms were damp with cold sweat, making her hair stand on end.

“Jasmine Yale, I call you and you don’t answer? Hmm?”

“Jasmine Yale, you’d better tell me honestly, where are you.”

“If you dare to hide it from me, I can’t guarantee that I won’t throttle you.” Sylvan Cheney articulated each word, exuding a colossal threat and warning! Jasmine Yale’s shoulders shook as she clutching her phone tightly.

Her lips blanched in an instant!

She knew, she was afraid of him.

“Mr. Cheney, I think there may be some misunderstanding; I haven’t done anything to wrong you.”

“I don’t want to hear your nonsense, tell me where you are.” Sylvan suppressed his anger, “I know, you’ve gone abroad.”

The controlled emotions of the night burst forth all at once!

A gloomy chill hovered over his handsome face.

“Mr. Cheney, I owe you twelve years of gratitude, which I know I can’t repay, but I too have the right to pursue happiness, would you… let me go?”

Jasmine Yale’s tone dropped, even a touch resigned.

Those three years, they lost all contact.

She almost thought they would never meet again in this lifetime.

Those three years, all she learned about him was through newspapers, television.

She even sometimes wondered if those twelve years had been a dream…

How could a girl like herself ever have known a powerfully influential man like Sylvan Cheney?

Not until three years later, when he returned to Landon again.

Cutting through, yet tangled.

“You can’t repay? Don’t you still have a lifetime?”

“What do you want me to do? Sylvan Cheney, you tell me. If possible, I will do

it, truly.”

“Come back, be good.”

Jasmine Yale was stunned, her expression dazed, her gaze scattered.

It was a long time before she softly spat out four words: “I won’t go back.” Having said that, she immediately hung up the phone.

Sylvan Cheney’s anger gave him a headache; his chest was filled with enormous frustration.

With his anger, he kicked over the coffee table!

The cups and ashtrays on the coffee table shattered, making a clattering noise.

The floor was littered with pieces!

Yolanda Fern had not yet gone to bed and, hearing the commotion, immediately came down from the guest room.

“Mr. Cheney, what’s wrong? Who’s upset you?”

Yolanda Fern, wearing a coat, hurriedly walked up to Sylvan Cheney’s side.

“It’s none of your business, go back to sleep.”

“Don’t be angry, you can talk to me.”

Yolanda Fern bent over to clean up the mess on the floor and poured Sylvan Cheney a glass of warm water.

“I told you to go to sleep!” Sylvan Cheney’s face darkened.

Yolanda Fern paused, her eyes reddening.

This was the first time Sylvan Cheney had spoken to her in such an unhappy, impatient tone.

A thin layer of mist appeared in her beautiful eyes, and she didn’t know where to put her hands.

“If you’re feeling uncomfortable, don’t keep it to yourself,” Yolanda Fern choked.

Sylvan Cheney did not answer; he lit a cigarette.