Fated love: the unwanted bride

She’s so useless... Her daughter is missing...

Where did she go... Where did Little Clementine go... Where was she taken?

Jasmine Yale was frantic, running everywhere, continuing to run, always running forward.

But there was no trace of Little Clementine or that man’s figure, only endless lawns and an endless blue sky... nothing left, her Little Clementine was gone too.

In this world, there was only her left, all alone.

"Little Clementine, don’t leave mommy... Little Clementine, don’t leave... Please don’t leave... Mommy only has you, only you..." In her sleep, Jasmine Yale cried.

Her tears soaked the quilt, the crystalline teardrops glimmered under the light.

She reached out blankly, grabbing aimlessly in the air, her brow furrowed tightly.

Unexpectedly, she suddenly grabbed a hot, large hand.

She hurriedly held onto it, murmuring in a sleep-talking voice, "Little Clementine, Little Clementine... Mommy caught you... don’t go... if you disappear, mommy can’t go on living... Little Clementine, you have to promise mommy, promise..."

The large hand held her uninjured right hand, squeezing tightly.

The large hand was dry, very warm, with a familiar touch to it.

Jasmine Yale awoke with a shock, this was not Little Clementine’s hand.

In a daze, she jolted awake from the nightmare, drunkenly looking at the man in front of her.

The man sat at her bedside, the light from the wall lamp fell on his sharply defined face, his usually stern profile softened by the light.

His thin lips pressed tightly, he said nothing, only his sharp gaze landed on her, watching her.

Half sobered from the alcohol, Jasmine Yale pulled her hand back!

"Sylvan Cheney... Why are you here... Why are you here!" She retreated into the bed, her eyes evasive.

"You had a nightmare." He looked at her calmly.

"How did you get into the room? Get out!"

"If I want to enter a room, isn’t it quite easy? Hm?" A hint of a smile curved his lips.

"What are you here for... get out." She urged him to leave, frantically searching for her phone.

Sylvan Cheney quickly pressed down her hand, his gaze deep: "I just came to see if you and Will Caddel had done anything."

"Are you here to enjoy the spectacle or to laugh at us? Did you see what you wanted to see?"

"It seems not, you’d better have nothing with him, otherwise, I can’t guarantee what I might do. I’ve told you, stay far from Will Caddel, but it seems you ignored my words."

"Get out! Sylvan Cheney, get out!" Jasmine Yale suddenly lost her temper, throwing a pillow at him, "Who the hell are you to say this? Get the hell away! Seeing you disgusts me, you know?"

"Don’t act drunk with me." Sylvan Cheney grabbed her wrist, his gaze fierce.

Jasmine Yale, too emotional, her hair messy, glared fiercely at Sylvan Cheney.

Their eyes locked, and the air crackled with intense tension.

Sylvan Cheney caught her right wrist, yanked her towards him, then grabbed her left wrist, lowered his head, and looked at the bandage on her hand.

"Jasmine Yale, you’re trying to have it both ways, getting involved with Will Caddel in Old York while keeping Justin Usama in the palm of your hand in Cakago."

"Sylvan Cheney, shut up! I don’t want to hear a single word from you!"

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