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That child was so adorable, with his big eyes, long eyelashes, and soft little hands…

But the irony of it all…

She treated the little one so well, gave her all, only to have someone stab her through the heart, leaving her to bleed…

Her own baby had died, yet the child he fathered with another woman was now three years old.

A lively child and an infant reduced to bones. A bloody contrast, a truth too painful to bear.

Both were his children, but hers could not be brought into this world.

Seven months in, such an innocent life, yet it couldn’t come into this world.

A baby at seven months is already well-formed, with hands and feet.

Sylvan Cheney was so accustomed to killing, he even didn’t spare his own flesh and blood.

Sylvan Cheney, can your heart really be at peace?

A pain was twisting at her heart, it hurt, it hurt so much.

“Jasmine! Jasmine!” Hans Colin called out anxiously.

Jasmine Yale’s face turned pale. He was startled; had he said anything wrong?

Jasmine Yale slowly came back to her senses, with a vacant look in her eyes, devoid of any expression.

“Miss Yale, it’s time, please come with me.”

The prison guard came over and closed the window.

“I still have things to say to Hans!” Jasmine Yale started shouting, “Let me say a few more words, just a few more words!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Yale, these are the rules. And to be honest, we’ve already made an exception today.” The prison guard showed no emotion.

He took Jasmine Yale by the arm and led her out.

“Don’t touch me, I can walk on my own!”

Jasmine Yale pulled her arm away.

Outside, Charles Mcintosh was leaning against a car.

The evening had fallen, the sunset had dipped below the horizon, only a dull orange light was scattered across the ground.

The prison was located in a secluded suburb, which became gloomy as evening fell.

Jasmine Yale shivered the moment she stepped outside, hugging her arms to herself.

There were trees everywhere, and weeds covering the ground. From time to time, crows would fly overhead, their cawing echoing ominously.

Jasmine Yale’s pupils contracted, reflecting her fear and dread.

Charles Mcintosh handed her a coat: “Miss Yale, put this on. You don’t want to catch a cold.”

She stood still, not taking it.

She moved her lips as if wanting to ask something, but she couldn’t utter a word.

“Miss Yale, it’s time to return to the Cheney Residence.” Charles Mcintosh reminded her.

Leaves fell from the roadside trees, made a couple of turns in the air, and landed at her feet.

She was wearing a pair of beige flat shoes. She saw the leaves when she looked down.

She stepped on them, her tone cool: “Assistant Mcintosh, I need some peace.”

“I dare not let Miss Yale wander around this place lost in thought.”

Charles Mcintosh’s tone was filled with undeniable refusal.

“Can’t I even have some peace? Is this an order from Sylvan Cheney?” Jasmine Yale snapped.

Charles Mcintosh’s face didn’t change: “No.”

In all of Landon, it seemed only Jasmine Yale and Chale Cheney dared to call Sylvan by his name with such audacity.

“Then send me home, not to the Cheney Residence!”

Charles Mcintosh’s eyes hardened, his gaze sinking.

“Miss Yale, I only follow Mr. Cheney’s orders.”

“You!!!”

Jasmine Yale was livid!

“Can I go home by myself, then? Don’t follow me!” Jasmine Yale shouted.

She needed some peace.

This time, she didn’t know whether Hans Colin had lied to her again or whether his information was accurate.

“Mr. Cheney asked me to protect Miss Yale fully.” Charles Mcintosh showed no intention of leaving.

“Why are you so obedient to Sylvan Cheney? If you’re so obedient, why don’t you marry him?” Jasmine Yale was infuriated.

She glared at Charles Mcintosh, clenching her teeth..