Fated love: the unwanted bride

Jasmine Yale saw in Sylvan Cheney’s eyes an endless depth, those bloodshot eyes no less sharp, the gaze like a blade.

She looked at him in shock, moving her lips: "President."

The distance between them wasn’t far, the floor was scattered with messy papers and files.

Sylvan Cheney sat, while Jasmine Yale stood.

The rain outside was falling, drumming pitter-patter against the window, outside rain, inside mist.

The atmosphere in the office was very delicate, the air smelling of cigarettes, with a hint of fresh blood.

"I’m sorry." Jasmine Yale stood opposite him, looking toward him all the while, "I didn’t know Yukon would come to the office today. The issue started because of me. I apologize on his behalf. If he said something, don’t take it to heart. I apologize to you."

Sylvan Cheney didn’t speak, his thin lips tightly pressed, those eyes staring intently at her.

Though he was injured, the aura of nobility and indifference around him had not changed at all.

"President, you don’t need to worry about Yukon. Even though he made a scene here today, he won’t make it public, and it won’t affect your reputation." Jasmine Yale quietly said, "I’m sorry, I apologize for him, I can take you to the hospital."

In the vast office, only Jasmine Yale was speaking.

In an instant, the air was very still.

Not a sound.

Jasmine Yale said many things, yet Sylvan Cheney gave no response.

Her hands intertwined, feeling a bit uneasy.

"President..."

"Jasmine Yale, you really don’t lack men to stand up for you," Sylvan Cheney interrupted her, his tone laced with sarcasm, "A man can go this far for you, you’re quite something."

Jasmine Yale was taken aback.

In her eyes, waves of emotion surged, rippling and not at all calm.

"He was a bit impulsive today. He normally doesn’t act like this," Jasmine Yale explained lightly, "He doesn’t have many emotions; he just can’t stand others bullying me."

"Get out!"

"You..." Jasmine Yale looked at him with wide eyes, shocked.

"I told you to get out!" Sylvan Cheney raised his voice, his expression not looking good.

"I’ll have Kade Yuvan help you clean up the office. I’m not feeling well today..."

"Not feeling well? If you’re not feeling well, tell Yukon Carbon, doesn’t he care deeply for you? Let him hold you, you’ll feel quite well!"

"Sylvan Cheney, do you not intend to speak to me calmly?"

"I told you to get out, didn’t you hear?"

"I heard." Jasmine Yale’s face showed an awkward expression, her hands tightly clasped, her lips slightly pale.

She looked up at him, silent for a moment.

Without another word, she turned and left.

At the door, she stopped and said faintly: "If you remain like this, I really don’t know how to get along with you. Perhaps you disdain to have any interaction with me. Sometimes, I feel quite helpless too."

Saying this, Jasmine Yale left the president’s office, walking slowly toward the elevator.

The Sylvan Cheney of the past was calm, generous, and composed, reacting to situations without panic, rarely having these unpredictable emotions.

Jasmine Yale sighed. The past was always the past; he couldn’t reminisce about it anymore.

In her chest, a pang of pain as if a hand was squeezing, tighter and tighter.

Perhaps it’s good for both to calm down. In over three months, she would have the baby, and at this juncture, she didn’t want any great emotional fluctuations.

The elevator came up, Jasmine Yale entered, leaving the building.