Jasmine Yale didn’t know how long she had slept when she was awoken by a series of knocks on the door.
She groggily opened her eyes, her temples throbbing.
"Who..."
Jasmine staggered to her feet, her hair disheveled as she ran to the door.
When she opened it, it turned out to be Joe Heath.
She glanced at him coldly and didn’t let him in, "You’re not welco."
Joe, dressed in a dark gray coat, seed more serious than usual.
He squeezed in through the doorway, closed the door, and stared intently at Jasmine.
"Have you been crying?" He noticed her tear-stained face, her makeup sared, her eyes swollen.
He reached out, wanting to wipe her tears for her.
Jasmine dodged him, "Don’t pretend to be nice."
Joe couldn’t help but laugh, "Sorry, I lied to you. I have to go to France for a business trip soon. After I leave, you can curse all you want, even wish my plane crashes."
"Annoying," Jasmine pushed him away.
Joe’s laughter grew louder.
He knew Jasmine’s personality very well; she was much simpler than Sylvan Cheney.
Having seen plenty of opportunistic won in the entertainnt industry, Jasmine truly seed like a blank slate to him, her minimal past mostly involving Sylvan.
"Crying so badly is not good. Girls shouldn’t cry often; it ruins their looks," Joe said as he wiped her face with a wet tissue.
"..." Jasmine kept her head down, silent.
"It’s my fault as your brother, bullying you, deserving of death. Co on, don’t be mad at anymore. I’ll bring you perfu from France, do you want it?"
"Who wants your perfu?" Jasmine said disdainfully.
"Then how about chocolate? You love it, don’t you? No, I’ll buy you perfu, chocolate, dresses... all of it. Don’t cry anymore."
Joe’s tone was that of soone coaxing a little girl.
Jasmine bit her lip, her anger dissolving.
Joe couldn’t help but feel heartache seeing her tearful, pitiful look.
Her eyes were swollen.
"Jasmine, have you been to the hospital?"
"How did you find ?"
Both spoke at the sa ti.
Joe laughed, "That was easy, what about you, have you been to the hospital?"
"Uh-huh."
"I’m sorry, Jasmine, I know I lied to you, and I’m not playing gas. Indeed, my brother is neither critically ill nor terminally ill, but the situation is not optimistic. Butler Santana ntioned he’s been having fevers and coughing up blood. You know, coughing up blood is never minor."
"You shouldn’t have called here," Jasmine’s eyes glowed with indifference.
"Did he kick you out?"
"..." Jasmine remained silent.
Joe guessed as much.
Sylvan Cheney was really capable of such actions.
Jasmine Yale had traveled all the way to Landon only to be coldly turned away, showing no tenderness or compassion for a girl.
"Jasmine, let show you sothing."
Joe opened his phone and brought up a few photos.
Jasmine furrowed her brows, "What is this?"
Docunts of so kind, she couldn’t understand.
Upon zooming in and scrutinizing them, she realized they were court docunts with "Cheney Group" on them and Sylvan Cheney’s own signature.
Sylvan’s handwriting, she recognized it and could never misidentify it.
Her heart skipped a beat, feeling as if it was being clenched. What were these? Court docunts?
Jasmine’s eyes held a hazy gloss, her watery eyes staring intently at the photos.
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