The bathroom was warm, and just as she was about to fall asleep, Butler Santana shouted, "Miss Yale, your phone has rung several tis."
She forced herself to perk up, "I’m coming."
"Okay."
Wiping the water off her body, Jasmine Yale ca out in slippers.
Butler Santana had already prepared dinner, "Miss Yale, I don’t know who is calling you, quite persistent, kept calling, I can’t even rember how many tis, maybe it’s sothing urgent."
Jasmine Yale picked up her phone and glanced at the caller ID.
It was a call from Sylvan Cheney.
She closed the bedroom door, walked to the window, and waited for his next call.
Sure enough, less than two minutes passed before the words "President" appeared on the caller ID.
"Jasmine." The voice on the other end was sowhat hoarse.
"I’m here," Jasmine Yale calmly held the phone.
To her, his hoarse, deep voice sounded more like the exhaustion after indulgence.
In fact, his voice indeed sounded very weary, "The schedule got delayed today due to so matters. I’ll return from Old York tomorrow; I just got the approval docunt."
"Mm, I know."
"Don’t think about , have a good al, okay?"
"If there’s nothing else, I’ll go have dinner first." After speaking, Jasmine Yale voluntarily hung up the phone, her voice a bit shaky.
Open eyes, closed eyes, all she saw were certain intimate scenes.
Jasmine Yale rubbed her temples, her gaze inadvertently falling on the text ssages she hadn’t had ti to delete that morning.
She didn’t know if it was rely a whim, but she opened that video and watched the scene again—
A dreamlike dance floor with balloons, flowers, and ribbons, colorful and dazzling, the lights were srizing.
Erin Janus’s dress was beautiful, her mixed-race features were exquisite, and equally, her dance was very graceful.
She was the center and focus of the entire stage.
With such a scene and such a beauty, it wasn’t just n who would be moved—even as a woman, she found it captivating.
How could she ask too much of Sylvan Cheney? Everyone appreciates beauty, let alone him, a perfectly normal man.
When n drink, rationality often fades.
In truth, even if Sylvan Cheney hadn’t lost his mory, she had no right to demand anything from him.
After all, she wasn’t officially married to beco Mrs. Cheney.
But... just the thought of this whirling in her mind would make her heart ache, like a needle prick.
Occasionally, she would indeed say one thing but an another.
Putting down the phone, she went out to eat.
Butler Santana truly prepared a table full of dishes, steaming hot and very fragrant.
"Miss Yale, you didn’t eat much for lunch, you must fill up in the evening, otherwise, you’ll wake up hungry in the middle of the night."
"Okay." Jasmine Yale nodded.
"You don’t look well, who called you?"
"Oh, a colleague couldn’t find so files and was very anxious."
Butler Santana knew she was lying but only sighed in her heart and didn’t continue to ask.
This ti, Jasmine Yale ate her dinner quite earnestly.
She was genuinely hungry.
Even if she didn’t eat, the baby still needed to.
Though the little one in her belly had no status just like her, she couldn’t let him suffer in other ways.
Seeing her eating well, Butler Santana felt relieved.
Jasmine Yale held her rice bowl, eating, as if she was thinking about sothing, or perhaps thinking about nothing at all.
She ate quite a bit, and only after she was full did she put down her chopsticks, "Butler Santana, I’m done eating. I’ll head back to my room first."
"Miss Yale, not going out for a walk?"
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