Chapter 2639: The Best Antidote Is a Man

Every single day, she faced life with all the energy she could muster. Even when there was wind and rain, she had never been afraid. She always felt that things would get better and better—she still had a lovely daughter.

She really had tried so hard, so very hard... Why did they have to treat her like this.

Why...

That muddled, dazed feeling started rolling up in her head again; the force of the drug surged up, ramming straight into her brain.

The alcohol from the evening also rushed back up. For a split second, she really wanted to just stop caring about anything...

"After this, still going to keep mixing in this circle? Hm?" Sylvan Cheney looked at her.

She let out a cold laugh and shut her eyes. "You win."

He’d known from the start the Caddel Family was not simple, not pure. He’d just watched her step by step jump in, watched her, when she finally had a sliver of hope, crush it with her own hands.

She was like a child, giddy with joy.

And he was like a bystander, watching her hop and skip around, waiting until the moment she fell, then standing at her side, sneering and mocking.

"Jasmine Yale." Sylvan Cheney’s icy hand lifted her chin; his searing gaze locked onto her tightly closed eyes. "Tell me, right now, this very moment—do you want me?"

Jasmine Yale didn’t open her eyes. At the corner of her lips was a mocking curve.

"With this kind of aphrodisiac, the best antidote is a man." He leaned in close to her ear, his scorching breath spilling against it.

The tingling, crawling provocation made Jasmine Yale shake her head in pain. She couldn’t take it anymore; she really couldn’t take this kind of torment.

But she hadn’t completely lost her mind.

She knew exactly who the person in front of her was.

"Don’t touch me." She forced out the four words with difficulty, eyes still shut.

"Heh." He pressed down on her body, but didn’t move on to the next step.

Outside the window, the rain pattered relentlessly against the car’s glass. Inside the car, it went quiet all at once; only the sound of rain and their breathing remained.

Just as Sylvan Cheney was staring at her, he noticed a faint smear of blood at the corner of her mouth.

In that instant, his pupils contracted. He clamped her chin in his hand. "Jasmine Yale, are you insane?!"

She was actually biting her own tongue.

Her consciousness was gradually blurring. She was afraid that even this last shred of clarity would slip away. She didn’t want to do something she would regret, and pain was the only thing that could keep her awake.

"You win." He tossed out the three words with indifference, buckled his seatbelt, and slammed on the gas.

The car shot out like a swift in the rain, threading through the curtain of water, the heavy night sky stretching boundless above.

This night, so deathly still, also seemed endless. No matter where one looked, there was only far-reaching darkness.

Outside the car, the rain rushed in torrents.

Inside the car, it was utterly silent.

Jasmine Yale bit down on her lip, her nails digging into her palm.

Sylvan Cheney kept accelerating all the way.

The Maybach cut through the rain and finally pulled up at the entrance of a nearby hospital.

He couldn’t manage an umbrella, so he draped his suit jacket over her shoulders and carried her toward the examination room.

The rain was heavy. Even though it was only a short distance, his dress shirt still got soaked.

He handed Jasmine Yale over to the doctors and waited outside himself.

The autumn rain at night was bitterly cold. Sylvan Cheney stood at the window with his arms folded, his dark eyes on the street outside. At this hour, everything was hushed and still; the lights stretched his shadow out long and thin.

There was no other emotion mixed in his eyes, only a dimness in his pupils, vast and endless.

He glanced at his watch; it was already one in the morning.

The hospital was even quieter. He had been standing there for a long time and not a single person had passed by his side. He wanted a cigarette, but forced himself to resist.

The autumn in Cakago was, as always, piercingly cold, arriving in a rush.