Fated love: the unwanted bride

But why, she didn’t dare to.

She slowly bowed her head.

The report was very formal, and she couldn’t understand it. She flipped directly to the results section.

The outcome was as expected.

Chale Cheney is Sylvan Cheney’s biological son, they share blood ties.

Chris Fern had no particular expression on his face, and simply said, “Sister, Chale Cheney is indeed Mr. Cheney’s son. I personally conducted the report.” Yolanda Fern’s eyes reflected a complex array of emotions, her heart pulsating violently.

A biological son meant that Mr. Cheney had been intimate with another woman.

“Sister, for a man of Mr. Cheney’s status and position, having a son out of wedlock is not surprising.”

His words, they were clear enough.

Having a child out of wedlock is not unusual. Having multiple women? Even less so.

“Chris, you go on ahead, I need some quiet time,” said Yolanda, her face pale.

Her usually listless eyes seemed more vacant than ever.

“Yolanda, there are things you need to understand.”

“Chris, am I pathetic? Is it only natural for no man to desire me…isn’t that so?”

Yolanda’s voice choked up, a red circle formed around her eyes, and she covered her face with her hands, appearing utterly desolate.

Sylvan had a child out of wedlock, yet he never once laid a hand on her.

Never once.

In the eyes of others, she is Mrs. Cheney, loved and cherished by Mr. Cheney.

But the reality – she alone knew the truth.

“No, Yolanda, don’t think like that.”

Chris bent over, panicked, clumsily trying to wipe her tears.

“Yolanda, he’s not worth your affection. A man like him, so amorously unfaithful, doesn’t deserve you!”

“Leave.”

“Yolanda, don’t do anything rash,” Chris worried she would become too upset.

In Yolanda’s eyes, Sylvan Cheney was virtuously chaste and lofty, never touching her because he was an honourable man.

But now, this DNA report told her he simply deemed her unworthy.

He’d been involved with other women from long ago.

There was even a child.

She’d noticed quite a while ago, as Chale grew older, he started looking more and more like Sylvan.

Turns out, a woman’s intuition is accurate.

“I’m not an idiot,” Yolanda said lightly, raising her head, her gaze still vacant.

“Yolanda, tell me whatever you’re upset about. Don’t keep it to yourself. I’m still here,” Chris bent over to look at her.

He was quite tall, and even when he bent over, he still looked more like Yolanda’s older brother than a younger brother.

“I need some quiet.”

“Um, I’ll go and prepare some milk for you.”

“Thank you,” Yolanda said, her unseeing gaze upon the wall ahead.

Back when they were in Lonton, she asked Sylvan Cheney, “Mr. Cheney, was Chale adopted by you?”

He responded dispassionately, “You don’t need to know.”

She knew Mr. Cheney’s temper well enough. After that, she didn’t dare to ask again.

Now, she understood. Chale was not adopted, but was his biological son.

Her fingers rested on the report, and slowly, she creased the report deeply with her grip.

At the kindergarten entrance, Sylvan Cheney stopped the car.

“Goodbye, Daddy.”

Chale jumped out of the car and waved at Sylvan.

His little face was brighter than any flower.

“Hmm, goodbye.”

Chale, with his small backpack shaped like a yellow duck, hopped and skipped his way into the kindergarten.

Sylvan squinted his eyes, watching his son enter the school before he relievedly drove away.

His phone buzzed once.

Glancing down, he saw a message from Jasmine Yale.

“Mr. Yale, sorry to bother you. If I were to jointly adopt Chale with you, would there be any relationship between us?”

Sylvan looked at the message and replied with two words: No, there wouldn’t..”