Fated love: the unwanted bride

Chapter 225: It Really Hurts to Death

With a slightly gloomy tone, Sylvan Cheney’s jawline instantly tightened, his eyes deep and contemplative.

“Hmm.” Jasmine Yale mumbled a reply in acknowledgment.

She wasn’t feeling too bold to defy Sylvan just yet.

Swoosh-

Sylvan slammed the brakes!

The screech of the tires against the pavement echoed loudly.

“Ah!” Jasmine jolted forward, smacking her head against the front passenger seat!

Touching her head, it really hurt. She drew in a sharp breath of cold air.

“Get out of the car!” Sylvan ordered, his eyebrows furrowed coldly, his tone remorseless and icy.

“Did we arrive?” Jasmine asked, confused.

How in the world had she angered him again? Seriously.

Sylvan sat rigidly, the tailored suit clinging to him, making him look even more standoffish.

Jasmine glanced at him, puzzled. Was he angry? And at her?

But she couldn’t decipher any emotion from the depths of his eyes.

Jasmine didn’t dare to say any more, muttering “your driving sucks” under her breath, before she sulkily got out of the car.

Looking up, it wasn’t a photo studio, nor a passport office. So… what?

Just as she was about to turn her head, Sylvan stepped on the gas, and swiftly drove away!

Damn it!

Jasmine lost her temper, hurling her bag away!

But she missed his car.

What an annoyance! What a hot temper!

How did his wife and son put up with him?

“You crazy Sylvan Cheney!” she swore, “Men like you deserve a lifetime of no climax in bed!”

After a few curses, she still felt sorry for her bag and went over to pick it up.

Tears formed a hazy mist over her big eyes.

Wiping her tears, Jasmine began aimlessly wandering the streets.

They were supposed to go do paperwork, but now they’re not.

She’d feel more secure if they finished the paperwork.

People bustled by on the street, Jasmine felt especially sorry for herself.

His anger made her feel sick.

And now, she’s sprained her left foot!

“Ah!” Jasmine screamed in pain, hobbling onto a seat at the bus stop.

Head down, she rubbed her throbbing ankle.

It hurt.

Jasmine frowned.

The autumn wind blew on her face, cold as the river water in February.

The situation felt all too familiar.

She was afraid of dogs in the past, especially the big, ferocious ones.

Once when returning home from school, a wolfhound broke free from its leash, and ran viciously toward her.

Having been scared out of her wits, as she fled from the dog chasing her!

She ran so hard, she was gasping for breath.

Just as she thought the wolfhound was about to bite through her neck, a car stopped behind her and Charles McIntosh got out and restrained the beast.

Relieved, she was panting, trembling, her ankle sprained.

Her face was pale, her lips quivering.

Just as her knees buckled and she almost collapsed, a large pair of hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her off her feet!

“Mr. C..Cheney…” She grabbed his neck, her watery eyes timidly looking up at him.

“You’re scared like thisby just adog, useless.”

“But it is so big, and it bites!” She defended!

She didn’t want to admit her uselessness!

“Would it chase if you didn’t run?”

“Yes!”

He sat her in the seat, his handsome eyebrows furrowed. “Where are you hurt?” “My foot’s twisted, it might be dislocated.” She complained, in a lot of pain and feeling wronged.

He cornered his mouth, stretched out his hand, rolled up her jeans, and applied force abruptly.

There was a “snap” “snap” sound, the bone was back in place!

“Are you murdering me!”

The pain caused her to tear up, she was screaming!

Really, it was killing her!

“Learn from your mistakes.” He pulled down her jeans for her.