Fated love: the unwanted bride-Chapter 865 - Mr. Cheney is Made of Stone

Chapter 865 -865 Mr. Cheney is Made of Stone

“Bang,” she angrily shut the car door.

The black Ferrari started, and Jasmine sat in the back, unable to suppress the emotions inside her.

Those emotions, like duckweed, floated around in her chest, ceaseless and endless.

She turned her face to look out the window, her expression calm.

The golden sunlight shone on her slightly pale face, giving her a special kind of beauty.

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Jasmine propped up her chin, remained silent, and stared out of the window.

She had had a high fever for two days, and her head hurt a lot.

Thinking about what happened that day made her head hurt even more.

“Did Chale come back safe afterward?” Jasmine asked the bodyguard.

“Yes, the young master came back safe, just some superficial injuries, nothing serious.”

“Was he scared?”

“No, Little Chale has quite a bit of courage. Miss Yale, Mr. Cheney has been worried about you; when you had the fever, he was with you.”

“It’s also your responsibility to speak well of your master?”

“…” The bodyguard coughed awkwardly, “Miss Yale, I’m just telling the truth.”

“What about Charles Mcintosh?” Jasmine asked curiously.

Charles should be Sylvan Cheney’s right-hand man, the one she would expect to see.

“Assistant Mcintosh was slightly injured and is recuperating in the hospital.”

“Injured?” Jasmine found it amusing, “Isn’t he supposed to be the toughest among you? How could he get hurt?”

“Miss Yale, everyone is made of flesh and blood, how can we not get injured.”

“No… Mr. Cheney is made of stone.”

Otherwise, how could anyone be so cold-blooded, so heartless, as if they had no heart.

The bodyguard didn’t utter a word, as he obviously couldn’t continue this topic with Jasmine.

Jasmine freely criticized Mr. Cheney. He wouldn’t mind at all, but they were different.

They still had to rely on Mr. Cheney for their livelihoods.

“Why aren’t you speaking?” Jasmine felt bored, “Did anyone come to see me when I had the fever?”

“A Miss Ann Nolan came to see you.”

Ann?

“Mr. Cheney also visited you every day,” the bodyguard added.

Thinking of Ann Nolan, Jasmine took out her phone from her bag and made a call.

“Ann.”

“Jasmine, you’re awake? How are you feeling, any better?” Ann’s voice came from the other end.

“I just woke up. They told me you visited me, thank you, Ann, I’m fine, really good.”

“When I visited you yesterday, you hadn’t woken up yet. Did you see the homemade cranberry cookies I brought you? I made them myself.”

“I saw them, haven’t had the chance to try them yet.”

“Hmm… if they taste good, I’ll make some more for you next time.”

Jasmine smiled; she knew Ann was skilled and clever, perfectly fitting the phrase “capable in both halls and kitchen.”

“Jasmine, are you at the hospital? Shall I come to see you?”

“I’m not at the hospital, I’m going home for a bit.”

“You’ve just recovered; why are you running around? What are you going back for?” Ann asked curiously.

“I kind of miss Little Chale…”

Ann felt a stir in her heart.

She had never been a mother and didn’t quite understand this “missing,” but in her eyes, Jasmine and Chale seemed truly well-matched.

Uninformed people might even think they were mother and son.

“I don’t know why,” Jasmine said with a smile, rubbing her forehead, “After waking up, the first person I wanted to see was him…”

Putting aside all other complex emotions, putting aside the entanglements between her and Sylvan Cheney, her feelings for Little Chale were purely of liking, without a shred of dislike.

“Then you should take care of yourself,” Ann cautioned.