Chapter 647: Chapter 647: The Hidden Love in the Eyes
“Death is a matter of destiny.” Sylvan Cheney’s mood was very depressed.
He pulled out a box of cigarettes and lit one.
Continuous rain threads fell on his face, the cold wind blew, cutting like a knife.
The burning cigarette lit up and dimd, just as the gloom in his eyes mirrored the dark sky, devoid of any light.
Yolanda Fern leaned on the tombstone, crying incessantly.
Her tears mixed with the rainwater, her sobs becoming breathless.
“Don’t cry, your heart is not good, you can’t be too sad, let’s go ho.” Sylvan held her arm.
“Mr. Cheney, I really want to accompany my grandfather in his voyage. I have no relatives in this world.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
Yolanda couldn’t help but cry.
It was as if she would shed all of her tears in this lifeti.
She cried incessantly, sobbing and sobbing, her face covered in tears.
When Sylvan finished his cigarette the rain got heavier.
“Let’s go, back to Cheney Residence.” Sylvan pulled her arm.
“Mr. Cheney, I want to see my grandfather one more ti…”
“Don’t be stubborn, your grandpa loved you very much, he definitely wouldn’t want to see you so heartbroken.”
“Mr. Cheney…”
“Let’s go.”
Sylvan didn’t make any fuss, instead, he asked Charles Mcintosh, who was with them, to take Yolanda back to the car.
“Mr. Cheney, aren’t you going back to Cheney Residence with ?”
Sylvan did not respond.
Instead, it was Charles who spoke: “Miss Fern, Mr. Cheney needs to go for a treatnt, I’m afraid he can’t accompany you.”
“How long does it take? Can I accompany you?” Yolanda’s face showed urgency.
“To T City, a week.” Charles said.
“T City? It’s more than an hour by plane. Can I take care of you all the way?”
“No need.” Sylvan Chen declined in a deep voice, “Your health wasn’t great in the first place, you can’t stand too much hard work.”
“Then Mr. Cheney, you take care.”
“Hmm.”
Sylvan sat in his Rolls-Royce.
Yolanda, holding an umbrella, watched him leave.
The place was not far from Cheney Residence, but it was desolate and bleak.
Especially under today’s gloomy sky, the place carried an additional touch of tragedy and desolation.
As Charles drove, Sylvan closed his eyes.
The rain outside the car window flowed down the glass, turning into long streams.
The windows had quickly beco a blur, obscuring the scenery outside.
Halfway through the ride, Sylvan’s phone started ringing.
“Mr. Cheney, aren’t you back yet? It’s raining heavily outside, don’t catch a cold.” Jasmine Yale reminded him.
Today was Saturday, she hadn’t woken up yet when he had left.
After asking the servants, she still didn’t know where he had gone.
Jasmine Yale’s sweet and clear voice echoed in the car.
Sylvan slightly lifted the corner of his mouth.
“If you catch a cold, it won’t be good. It’s almost ti for lunch, are you coming back for lunch? If you co back, I’ll have the kitchen make a few more dishes.”
“Why not you make them personally?” Sylvan said in an amused voice.
“Didn’t you say it for yourself that what I make is not tasty? You’re such a picky eater, I can’t cater to you.”
“You make sothing today.”
Suddenly, he wanted to eat sothing she had cooked herself.
“Then when are you coming back and what do you want to eat?”
“Half an hour later.”
“Mm.” Jasmine glanced at the wall clock, half an hour later was exactly eleven-thirty, “So, I’ll make sothing casual?”
“Hmm.”
“If you say it’s not tasty, I won’t cook for you next ti.” Jasmine said.
Sylvan laughed.
“Little Chale isn’t as picky as you.” Jasmine huffed.
“Jasy, are you praising our baby?”
From the other end of the phone, the child’s voice ca again.
The smile on Sylvan’s face grew, a hidden indulgence in his eyes.
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