Chapter 1176: Chapter 1176: Mr. Cheney Went Out Early in the Morning to Buy
Jasmine Yale was washing up in the bathroom, wearing no makeup, dressed simply in a long white sweater dress, topped with a cal coat.
Butler Santana had already packed her suitcase, and she dragged it to the entrance.
Outside, the fog was thick—the flight would likely be delayed again.
However, just as Jasmine reached out to open the door, she suddenly found it wouldn’t open!
Her face changed color, and she tried forcefully again, but it still wouldn’t open!
Why was this happening?
She threw her suitcase aside and ran to the phone to call downstairs.
“Butler Santana.”
“Miss Yale, are you awake?”
“I am awake, but what’s wrong with the door? I can’t open it.”
“Miss Yale, please wait a mont, I will bring your breakfast up.”
After he spoke, Butler Santana hung up the phone.
Jasmine glanced at the ti—it was manageable.
Soon, Butler Santana arrived with a tray, placing the breakfast on the table.
The breakfast was lavish, with sandwiches, cake, tiramisu, as well as traditional pastries, stead dumplings, and buns, all giving off an enticing aroma.
Though he knew Jasmine couldn’t eat much, Butler Santana still prepared ticulously.
“Miss Yale, Mr. Cheney specially bought you soy milk and fresh at mooncakes, he went out early in the morning to buy them,” Butler Santana explained, “Of course, Mr. Cheney said you can eat whatever you like, just make sure you eat enough.”
Jasmine looked over the rich breakfast spread, then out to the foggy skies.
“Where is Mr. Cheney?”
“I’m not quite sure.”
“Why is the door locked?”
“Miss Yale, I’m not very clear on that either. However, Mr. Cheney instructed that once he returns, then you can go to the airport.”
“I will miss my flight!” Jasmine was a bit angry.
Everything had been fine yesterday, so why did she have to wait for him to return today? What if she missed her flight?
Jasmine’s head throbbing faintly, an aftereffect of last night’s drinks.
“Miss Yale, please wait a bit longer. I’ll go downstairs. Call if you need anything,” Butler Santana couldn’t say much more; it was just as Mr. Cheney had ordered.
After speaking, Butler Santana left, and Jasmine ran to the door, but Butler Santana quickly locked the room behind him.
Jasmine was very anxious.
She swiftly dialed Sylvan Cheney’s mobile number.
Once, twice, but no answer.
Where had he gone again?
Regardless, her agitation was futile; she simply had to sit down and eat.
The last ti he had bought her mooncakes and soy milk was a year ago; she took a bite of the mooncake—it still tasted the sa, yet she felt sowhat lost.
Her heart was racing, beating urgently.
She could barely rember the events of last night, only recalling that she had been drunk and lay in his arms for a long ti.
Jasmine pinched the palm of her hand—really, of all places, why did she have to lie in his arms?
She thought again—did she also grab his clothes? And talked on and on about so many things?
What had she said?
Jasmine couldn’t rember, but more words ant more mistakes; she might have said too much.
Her head hurt, and she rubbed her temples, biting into the mooncake.
The mooncake was savory, packed with at filling; Jasmine ate while sipping the soy milk.
The entire Cheney Residence was unusually quiet, no sound at all except for the endlessly chirping sparrows on the treetops.
She sent Sylvan Cheney a text ssage: Where are you?
By the ti she nearly finished her breakfast, Sylvan Cheney hadn’t replied.
Jasmine frantically tugged at the door, but it was tightly locked and wouldn’t budge!
Could she still make it to the airport on ti?
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