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The deep blue tie was ripped open, and he started feverishly unbuttoning his shirt again.

Jasmine Yale, struggling to breathe from his kisses, tried to shift her body.

Only then did Sylvan Cheney let go of her lips, turning his head to plant thorough and meticulous kisses on her snowy white neck.

His slender fingers fumbled with his own shirt’s buttons.

In no time at all, all of his buttons were undone.

Under the moonlight, Jasmine saw his wheat-colored skin and sexy abdominal muscles.

Curvatures in Sylvan Cheney’s throat moved, his eyes tainted with the fragrance of desire.

He reached out, preparing to take off his black shirt.

“Sylvan Cheney.”

Frowning, with a raspy voice, Jasmine called his name.

Looking up from her neck, Sylvan asked, “What?”

“Please take precautions.”

Jasmine’s face remained devoid of emotion.

She didn’t want to get pregnant again. She was naive back then, but not anymore.

Sylvan Cheney no longer needed her to bear his child, he’s married now, needs even less so.

If he failed to take precautions, she would be the one to get hurt.

With hear single statement, it was like a boulder thrown into a tranquil lake!

Causing countless ripples!

Sylvan Cheney’s eyes grew cold; the desire in his eyes faded away instantly, replaced with fury.

His large hand gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“You don’t want to have my child?”

Jasmine frowned, her voice calm and flat, “Yes.”

“What if I refuse to take precautions?”

“I’ll resort to morning-after pills.”

“What if you accidentally get pregnant?”

“I still wouldn’t want it!”

With every word, a net seemed to wrap tighter around Sylvan Cheney’s heart!

It felt as if a knife was plunged deep into his heart, so deep.

His face turned drastically pale, his temple throbbing in pain.

In his grip, her chin was held tight as his mind returned to a phone conversation he had with Charles Mcintosh three years ago.

The car fell silent.

Jasmine, in pain from his grip, shouted, “Sylvan Cheney, let go!”

Sylvan Cheney’s heart grew colder; his grip on her chin grew stronger- domineering, angry.

The warmth within his body had faded, his limbs grew cold and his blood flowed in reverse.

With angry eyes, he looked at Jasmine and spat, “Jasmine Yale, you are not fit to be a mother.”

Jasmine, at her wit’s end, responded calmly, “Mr. Cheney, you’re right, haha.”

“Get out!”

Sylvan Cheney let go of her, his face darkened to an extreme.

Her wrist, gripped by him for so long, felt numb when released. A purple mark appeared all round.

Something had inflamed him…

Jasmine bent down to pick up her coat that fell onto the floor, dusting off the dirt.

Her backache worsened from leaning against the steering wheel for so long.

Her legs were starting to go numb,

“Mr. Cheney, could you please unlock the door?”

Sylvan Cheney reached out and pressed the unlock button.

Jasmine disembarked from his lap, sighing in relief, feeling as if a heavy burden had been lifted…

The fresh air outdoors was a relief, at least, it was less horrifying.

Wrapped in her coat, she sprinted towards the building.

She was afraid that Sylvan Cheney would change his mind!

Under the moonlight, looking at her retreating figure, Sylvan Cheney clenched his steering wheel.

His hand’s veins were popping, his facial features incredibly harsh.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number.

Chale Cheney was in a dozy sleep, dreaming about his mother!

Chasing and chasing, he finally appeared to have caught up with her!

“Mom!” Chale cried out.

Just as the skirt-wearing woman in front was about to turn her head, Chale woke up from the dream.

The phone kept ringing.

Who…

Who was calling him?

Whining, he wished he could have seen his mother.

In a sleepy daze, he picked up with, “Hello…”

“Chale Cheney, come home immediately!”

“Dad? No, dad, don’t be so cruel. Whining…”

“If I don’t see you tonight, you never come back to the Cheney family again!”