Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1295: Miss Yale Doesn’t Love Mr. Cheney

Chapter 1295: Chapter 1295: Miss Yale Doesn’t Love Mr. Cheney

The red paper scraps fell to the floor, glaringly conspicuous.

Gold-embossed lettering was on the scraps, and Butler Santana’s heart skipped a beat.

He didn’t need to look to guess what it was.

He picked up a few pieces.

Just as he had guessed, they were invitations, and specifically, they were Miss Yale’s invitations.

Had Mr. Heath come to deliver invitations to Mr. Cheney? No wonder Mr. Cheney looked upset.

This...

Jasmine Yale, Yukon Carbon.

Who was Mr. Carbon? Butler Santana had never heard of him, perhaps he was a boyfriend Miss Yale met abroad.

Butler Santana squatted on the ground, suddenly stunned, his emotions swirling, his throat choked up.

Was Miss Yale getting engaged? No wonder Mr. Heath had asked all those bizarre questions.

"Cough cough..."

Coughing sounds came from the upstairs study.

Butler Santana’s heart tightened, and he looked upstairs.

No one was in sight, but he saw infinite desolation.

He didn’t usually pry into affairs, but that didn’t mean he knew nothing. He knew Mr. Cheney cared about Miss Yale, not in the brotherly way he cared for a sister.

He still remembered the last time Miss Yale was at Cheney Residence, when Mr. Cheney took her hand and walked through the plum garden.

At that time, Mr. Cheney was expressionless, but the joy in his eyes was unmistakable.

He had been with Mr. Cheney for a full five years, and he had only seen Mr. Cheney hold Miss Yale’s hand.

Could Miss Yale not feel it?

Or did Miss Yale not love Mr. Cheney?

Why would she be getting engaged to someone else?

Butler Santana held the invitation in his hand, unsure what to do.

He didn’t have Jasmine’s contact information; if he had, he would definitely ask Jasmine to come back and see.

Whether she loved him or not, she should at least come back and visit, right? Cheney Residence had raised her for twelve years.

Butler Santana shook his head; this was not his place to interfere.

He bowed his head and silently started cleaning up the scraps on the floor.

Coughing could still be heard from the study.

After cleaning up the scraps on the floor, Butler Santana hurriedly took medicine upstairs.

"Mr. Cheney, you haven’t taken your medicine tonight yet."

"Leave."

"Mr. Cheney, if you don’t take the medicine, the cold won’t get better," Butler Santana urged earnestly.

He never knew such a grown man could still be so worrisome.

Sylvan Cheney took his medicine inconsistently and ignored advice, coughing severely and still smoking and drinking like he was courting death.

It had been several days, and he still wasn’t getting better.

You can’t neglect your own health like this.

"I told you to leave!"

"Understood."

Butler Santana didn’t dare say more and just took the medicine back out.

Butler Santana was really upset; Mr. Heath’s visit had really affected Mr. Cheney’s mood.

He would definitely not let Joe Heath in the door again.

He helplessly looked at the medicine in his hand — if he didn’t take the medicine, how would his body recover?

It was so frustrating.

But he didn’t have the courage to persuade Mr. Cheney, so Butler Santana just shook his head and gave up.

Cold gusts swept past outside the window; this winter was truly cold.

The new year had passed, yet the steps of spring were still far away.

Study.

A ring quietly lay in the palm of Sylvan Cheney.

The Blue Demoness style, the sparkling diamonds, and the exquisite engravings.

His gaze stayed steadily on the ring, never shifting.

Under the direct light, the diamond emitted a cold glow, luxurious and dazzling, beautiful yet not demonic.

The warmth of his palm heated the cool diamond ring, which lay quietly in his grasp.

Across the ocean, another man would be putting a ring on her finger.