Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1311: Sleeping with My Sister?

Chapter 1311: Chapter 1311: Sleeping with My Sister?

"Do you need someone to eat with you? You could ask Charles Mcintosh to come over." She awkwardly shifted her body, trying to free herself from his grasp.

"Yes, I can’t eat without someone accompanying me."

Sylvan Cheney grasped her hand and treated her burn.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too serious.

His brows were furrowed, and a faint scent of medicinal solution and tobacco lingered on him.

"Let go of me." Jasmine Yale was not used to such touch. What were they, anyway?

Sylvan didn’t let go and, when he got closer to her, he smelled the long-missed fragrance on her.

He lifted his head and looked at their reflection in the mirror.

It had been a year.

Indeed, a year had passed.

"The dress is very pretty," he said, embracing her from behind, "but you are too thin."

Jasmine was taken aback, she lifted her head and looked at the spotless mirror in front of her.

In the mirror, their heads were together, and he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Sylvan Cheney, what is this supposed to mean?" she said faintly. "I have a boyfriend now, as you should know."

"I won’t do anything to you, I have something to give you."

"I don’t want it."

"Take it." His tone carried a command but was tinged with a bit of helplessness and tenderness.

Saying this, he hugged her for a while before leaving the restroom.

Quickly, he came back with a bank card and stuffed it into her hand: "This is your dowry."

"Sylvan Cheney!" Jasmine Yale turned sharply, her eyes red, and stared at him, then flung the bank card onto the floor, "I don’t want anything from you! Not anything! Over the years, you have not mistreated me, and I will not accept anything further from you!"

"It’s just a small token from me."

"I said I don’t want it!"

Jasmine’s chest heaved, unable to catch her breath.

Her eyes, reddened with emotion, were fixed on him, her lips tightly bitten.

"If you get married, I won’t attend. If you don’t take this card, I will feel uneasy. After all these years, I have always considered you my sister," Sylvan Cheney bent down, picking up the bank card from the floor, "the PIN is your birthday."

"Sister? Mr. Cheney, then you’re really an animal, to sleep with your ’sister’? If I remember correctly, I was drunk at twenty years old, and you weren’t. That means you could have completely pushed me away, but you didn’t. Mr. Cheney, now you’re saying I am your sister?"

Sylvan Cheney suddenly had no strength to rebut.

Jasmine snatched the card from his hand and forcefully—

"Snap," the bank card broke into two pieces!

"Give it to whoever you want, just not to me. You don’t have to come to my wedding; I don’t want to see you. Furthermore, I will never return to Landon. You don’t want to see me, and I do not want to see you either," Jasmine pushed him away and stormed out of the restroom.

After all, it was her own stupidity that made her so easily believe Joe Heath’s words.

He was just sick, it wasn’t that serious.

"Jasmine Yale!" Sylvan Cheney called out to her.

Jasmine didn’t pay attention and ran quickly to the hospital room’s door, supporting herself against the wall.

She didn’t want to see him ever again, never again!

With each encounter, it felt as if someone sliced her heart open with a sharp knife, pain so numbing, so devoid of sensation.

She didn’t understand why she felt this way.

Why, oh why!

Her heart felt completely torn apart, shredded into pieces, blood oozing everywhere, and that pain scratched at her heart like ants.

And each time it was torn open, the wound was difficult to heal—this pain was lifelong.

Jasmine stumbled through the door, rushing outside!

She never wanted to see him again!