"Mr. Cheney, it's very late." Jasmine Yale declined.
She didn't know how Sylvan Cheney had found her here, but all of Landon was his turf, so him finding her wasn't strange.
"Either you come down, or I come up."
After saying this, Sylvan Cheney hung up the phone.
Jasmine Yale was frustrated.
Her chest was choked up, unable to breathe in or out!
She glanced at her bedroom; Little Chale had wrapped around the quilt and fallen asleep.
There was no possibility of Sylvan Cheney coming up.
If Sylvan Cheney were to see Little Chale, who knows what he might do to a child.
After all, he was a heartless man!
Heartless!
With this thought in mind, she gnashed her teeth, put on a coat, and hurriedly walked out.
The hallway was rather dark; she cautiously stepped down.
Just as expected, a black Rolls-Royce was parked under the plane tree not too far away.
The car was huge and magnificent, yet understated and elegant.
