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At this time, no one would dare to stir things further.

Very few people could make the boss so angry.

“Mr. Cheney, you’re bleeding. Shall I call a doctor?” Charles McIntosh quickly approached.

“No need, I’m stepping out for a bit.”

Sylvan wiped away the blood with a wet napkin and went downstairs towards the garage.

“Mr. Cheney, about Teagan Cheney…”

“Don’t ever let him step foot in the Cheney Family corporation again!”

“Yes, sir.”

The snow kept falling outside, and the sky was gloomy. The road ahead was soaking wet.

Sylvan drove his car out of the garage. At the intersection, he suddenly didn’t know which direction to head in.

The Rolls-Royce came to a stop on the side of the road again.

He lit a cigarette, smoke cloaking his stern face.

A sense of desolation spread across his penetrating gaze, as expansive and profound as a lonely, endless night.

He simply sat in the car, watching the snowfall.

Flake after flake… as if they embodied a sky filled with sorrow.

His gaze settling ahead, an image of a young girl suddenly popped into his mind.

He remembered a time when it was snowing like this, and he had just returned, worn and weary, from an overseas work trip.

Perhaps the snow was falling too thickly; Xiao Ya hadn’t noticed his arrival and was bent over the window, absorbed in her drawing.

A layer of white fog covered the window, making it hazy.

Her fair fingers moved gracefully across the window, focused and intent. Her eyes shone clear and bright.

It was not until he came up behind her that he saw what she was writing —

“Since parting, how often in dreams we meet.”

At that time, he had been away for a full month.

Then, she was seventeen.

He stood behind her for a long time, without removing his gloves, without taking off his scarf, silently watching her doodling on the window.

After a while, Jasmine Yale finally noticed him.

As she turned around, it was as if her girlish thoughts had been laid bare.

Suddenly…

She wiped off the words on the window completely.

She glanced at him, visibly perturbed, “I just learned it; I was just playing around.”

Having spoken, her face flushed and she scurried away, head down.

The cigarette continued to burn, scorching Sylvan Cheney’s fingertips.

He snuffed the cigarette out, stepped on the accelerator, and drove off to the bar.

The bar was rather quiet during the day, and due to the unpleasant weather, there were even fewer patrons.

This bar was owned by Zaiden Santos, and Sylvan had a private room here.

Upon his arrival, he ordered several bottles of whiskey.

“Mr. Cheney, would you like some company?” the bar owner asked, grinning as he opened the whiskey for Sylvan.

Sylvan hadn’t been here in a while, but every time he did come over, he would drink a lot of alcohol.

Sylvan shot him a look, “You can call Zaiden Santos over.”

“I wouldn’t dare invite Boss Santos.”

“Then, get out!” Sylvan coldly downed a glass of whiskey.

Sylvan’s heart raged chaotically, a blaze seething within him, consuming every cell in his body.

He swayed the bottle and filled the glass to the brim.

Over the years, whenever he thought of Qiana Childe or Teagan Cheney, a complex series of emotions would begin to churn.

These unpleasant family matters, he had kept them locked away in the depths of his heart.

He had endured it alone all these years, yet Teagan Cheney still managed to incite his emotions.

Some things, when suppressed for too long, intensify until they erupt.

Especially when he thought about Qiana Childe and the time from over twenty years ago.

Sylvan’s brows furrowed tightly. He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and reached for the bottle.