It was just an impetuous remark from the little guy, but when Jasmine Yale heard it, her heart trembled violently.
Did Sylvan Cheney have children?
Otherwise, how could he bear not to come see Little Chale for a whole year?
Jasmine Yale's pupils constricted, and a light of indistinct meaning shone in her eyes, betraying traces of brokenness.
"Don't make trouble," Sylvan Cheney's voice remained low, like the sky before the sudden storm in June, heavily suppressed, "If there's nothing else, hang up the phone."
"I'm not making trouble," Chale Cheney said unhappily, "Daddy, baby is asking you seriously, if you don't come, can baby go find Jasy?"
For a moment, the other end was silent as water.
Jasmine Yale stepped forward, snatching the handset from Chale Cheney's hand.
The little guy dodged, not letting her grab it.
Jasmine Yale's face looked ugly, but the little guy didn't care anymore.
He just wanted to make the call, he had to make it!
