"Do you really wish I slept with another woman?" Sylvan Cheney looked at her, his gaze intense.
In the corner, where the lights were dim, he saw a girl like a little kitten huddled to one side, pitiful and tearful as if pear blossoms drenched by rain.
Her pleading manner made him want to press her beneath him and tornt her a bit.
"..." Jasmine Yale kept silent, biting her lip.
"Speak."
"..." Jasmine Yale hung her head, not daring to look at him.
"You won’t speak, will you?"
Sylvan Cheney took a step forward, almost pinning her against the wall.
"You, you also want to have a child with Mr. Carbon," Jasmine Yale defended in a whisper, her voice as quiet as a mosquito’s.
Sylvan Cheney’s face darkened, choked up with emotion.
At a ti like this, she still tried to argue with him.
He didn’t know exactly what news she had co across, but she wouldn’t have drugged him for no reason.
"Jasmine Yale, over the years, many won have drugged ," Sylvan Cheney said slowly, his gaze locking onto her face, "Do you know what beca of them?"
Jasmine Yale suddenly felt afraid.
She thought she had covered her tracks perfectly, that she could deceive him.
Where did it go wrong? Where?
Then with Miss Harry...
"Mr. Cheney... did you... sleep with Miss Harry..." Perhaps the question was too blunt, her face turned beet red, as if she was bleeding.
"I don’t have that short of a turnaround."
"..."
Jasmine Yale panicked, no wonder she saw him unaffected, he didn’t look like soone who had been drugged.
On the contrary, it was she...
Wait, does that an the wine was switched?
Their glasses were switched?
Jasmine Yale wanted to cry, she just knew it—why would a single sip of wine have such a strong effect? She felt awful.
So he had seen through her all along, where had she gone wrong.
His "deep sleep" was also faked? Did he know when she used his phone to send ssages?
"Mr. Cheney... what are you going to do to ..." Jasmine Yale’s voice broke.
"Jasmine Yale, those won who drugged did not end well," Sylvan Cheney said coolly, "I’ve been in the business world for so many years, if I couldn’t detect sothing off with a drink, I’d have been long dead without a place to bury my body."
"Mr. Cheney... please let go... I don’t want to die..." She knew the consequences of crossing Sylvan Cheney.
"Jasmine Yale, despite knowing the consequences, you still dared to do it? Do you really think I care so much for you?"
"No." She shook her head, shaking with fear, tears whirling in her eyes, "I didn’t."
"Who told you to drug ?"
"I decided on my own." Jasmine Yale feared his tone most, his interrogation was sothing she couldn’t handle, "Mr. Cheney... Mr. Cheney... can you take to the hospital first... I might have drunk wine with drugs in it... can you take to the hospital... please... I feel so awful..."
She looked up in fear, her eyes begging him.
She felt terrible, as if ants were crawling all over her body.
Her body clamored with intense desire, especially when the scent of his masculinity wafted to her, she really wanted to throw herself at him.
The last bit of her reason told her she couldn’t.
The cold air could no longer ease her discomfort, she needed to soak in cold water or go to the hospital.
With watery eyes, she looked at him, the light in her eyes pitiful.
He remained unmoved, neither agreeing "willingly" nor "unwillingly."
Jasmine Yale’s small hands grabbed his sweater, tugging at it: "Mr. Cheney... please... take to the hospital..."
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