She was exactly what she had envisioned, the typical image of a virtuous wife and good mother.
As Tomer led Yolanda Fern to the door, he inevitably saw Jasmine Yale.
"Mr. Tomer." Jasmine Yale greeted.
"Miss Yale? Who are you looking for?" Tomer asked indifferently.
Tomer looked the same, but the wrinkles on his forehead were deeper.
"I'm looking for Chale."
"The young master has gone to piano class, let's talk another day."
Tomer didn't show much emotion either.
Yolanda Fern glanced at Jasmine Yale and rubbed her eyebrows and temples, her brow furrowed.
She let go of Tomer's hand, seeming a bit helpless.
"Mr. Tomer, I have a bit of a headache. Please attend to the visitor. I'm going back to my room to rest."
Having said this, Yolanda Fern let go of Tomer's hand and went into the Cheney Residence.
Her figure, graceful and lithe, quickly disappeared from Jasmine Yale's sight.
"Mr. Tomer, I know Chale is at home. I want to see him." Jasmine Yale insisted.
