Chapter 646: Chapter 646: Sylvan Cheney Looking at the Tombstone
Sylvan Cheney’s eyes concealed a profound depth.
What was she thinking?
“I’m going to take a shower.”
Jasmine Yale turned around.
With her back to him, she found her pajamas in the wardrobe before entering the bathroom.
Her retreating figure suggested a kind of panic-stricken flight.
Sylvan Cheney didn’t move, maintaining his earlier posture.
His austere face bore an endless depth.
In the bathroom, Jasmine Yale turned on the shower, her heart thudding uncontrollably.
A wave of complicated emotions washed over her, leaving her bewildered, lost, and disoriented in their wake.
Steam began to rise.
Her feelings surged lancholically, like ripples in water.
…
The winter in Landon began to llow, and the temperatures were no longer as frigid as in December.
Traces of spring were starting to be found in the air.
The day was gloomy, the dayti as dark as the night.
Since morning, a soft drizzle had filled the air, each thread-like droplet making a persistent weave.
The Cheney Residence ancestral burial ground.
Yolanda Fern, wearing a long black coat, stood in front of a gravestone, Sylvan Cheney by her side.
This was Spencer Childe’s grave.
“Mr. Cheney, I miss Grandpa so much. Before the New Year, he promised to take to organize an art exhibition. I was eagerly preparing for it, never expecting that such a thing would happen. Life is unpredictable.” Yolanda sighed.
Sylvan Cheney looked at the gravestone, his expression quiet and reserved.
The ambiance of the place was as cold as the day’s weather.
Raindrops fell, and Yolanda held an umbrella over Sylvan Cheney.
“Mr. Cheney, I’m glad you’re okay. If not, I really don’t know what I would have done.” Yolanda choked, “I miss Grandpa so much when I think of his kindness and care for . He knew about my heart condition, and all these years he was constantly helping find different renowned doctors.”
“Mr. Cheney, even though Grandpa and you had a misunderstanding, he’s not here anymore. Can you forgive him?”
“I never resented him,” Sylvan Cheney spoke calmly.
“Although Grandpa left all his assets to , as a girl, what am I to do with all of it? No amount of worldly goods could bring him back. Mr. Cheney, I want to give them to you.”
“If it’s given to you, then keep it.” Sylvan Cheney said, “I don’t need it.”
“Mr. Cheney…”
“Don’t argue with over this, Grandpa is no longer here.”
Yolanda nodded. She knew further argunts would be futile.
“Mr. Cheney, don’t bla Grandpa. He used to talk about you. He said that you were outstanding, capable… he really admired you.”
Sylvan Cheney didn’t respond.
When Spencer Childe was alive, he had always been wary of him seizing the family property, always suspicious of his intentions.
Now that he was gone, there was no longer a need for disputes or explanations.
“Mr. Cheney, I really miss Grandpa…”
Suddenly, Yolanda squatted down, let go of the umbrella, and sprawled onto the gravestone.
Her cries, even more lingering than the rain, echoed through the silent space…
Yolanda had been crying all morning, unable to hold back her tears whenever Spencer Childe was ntioned.
Her grief was overwhelming.
“Grandpa, Grandpa…” Yolanda cried out.
“Be careful not to catch a cold,” Sylvan Cheney picked up the umbrella from the ground.
The rain had soaked Yolanda’s forehead, her tears mingling with the drops.
“Mr. Cheney, Grandpa was so kind… why did they have to treat him like that…I miss him so much… I have been feeling guilty these days… Why didn’t I treat him better then… He always wanted to go to the Banks of the Seina, but I never had ti to take him there… I feel so guilty…” Yolanda sobbed uncontrollably.
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