Fated love: the unwanted bride

In the early morning, under the dim daylight, Sylvan Cheney got dressed.

He had not slept all night, and his stern and resolute face now bore signs of exhaustion.

He opened the wardrobe and chose a grey tie.

Winter in Landon was exceedingly cold; the fog had not yet dissipated, crystalline icicles hung from the leaves of trees.

Looking out of the window, the outside world was blur and monotone with shades of white and faded yellow dominating the scenery.

Sylvan Cheney adjusted his cuffs and descended the stairs.

“Mr. Cheney, good morning, I was about to call you, Miss Fern is here,” Butler Santana stood downstairs, behaving with great respect.

A few strands of indifference emerged in Sylvan Cheney’s eyes: “Which Miss Fern?”

Butler Santana quickly clarified: “It’s Miss Yolanda Fern.”

Due to Mr. Cheney’s orders, regardless of who came, he must be informed.

Therefore, Yolanda was still waiting outside.

Sylvan Cheney lifted his head and narrowed his eyes to look outside.

Outside the window, a line of servants stood near the front gate of the Cheney Residence not far off.

A bit further on was a black Range Rover.

Sylvan Cheney simply replied: “Let her in.”

“Yes.”

Sylvan Cheney took a seat at the breakfast table and unfolded a napkin. Yolanda Fern entered accompanied by Tomer.

She wore a beige overcoat, which accentuated her petite and slender figure. Upon entering, she removed her scarf and smiled at Sylvan Cheney.

“Mr. Cheney, sorry to bother you without giving prior notice,” she said. Yolanda used to prefer calling him by his name, Sylvan. But after he corrected her several times, she too started calling him “Mr. Cheney” like everyone else. “Come sit and have breakfast,” Sylvan Cheney’s voice was hoarse and low.

“Mr. Cheney, a good friend from the art academy is having an exhibition, so I came back. You… won’t be upset, will you?” Yolanda approached him.

“No.”

“Mr. Cheney, I thought you were still at Grandpa’s.”

Yolanda sat next to Sylvan Cheney, and a servant immediately brought her breakfast.

She had a simple light make-up on that made her look very pretty and delicate. Especially her oval face, touched slightly by the mist, looked innocently natural.

Sylvan Cheney cut her a slice of the mango cheese cake.

Yolanda was pleasantly surprised and hastily accepted: “Thank you, Mr.

Cheney. Are you going abroad again soon? I am much better now and would like to stay in Landon for a while. If you have time, would you accompany me?”

“I’ll arrange the time.”

Yolanda nodded: “Good, I miss Chale so much. I really want to see him. While I was in Lonton, I often thought about him. May I… stay at the Cheney’s?” Sylvan Cheney was silent, he neither agreed nor disagreed.

“Has Chale not woken up yet?” Yolanda lowered her voice and looked upstairs. “He doesn’t have to go to school this early.”

A smile crept onto Yolanda’s delicate face, just like a begonia flower in spring.

“Mr. Cheney, may I take Chale to kindergarten later?”

“There’s no need, Butler Santana will do it.”

“Mr. Cheney, it’s been a long time since I last saw him, I miss him a lot, please let me take him?”

Yolanda’s tone was a bit coquettish.

Her face was still soft and elegant, weak and delicate, like a willow in the wind.

Her eyes were filled with anticipation, and her pupils glowed brightly.

When her eyelashes trembled slightly, she was incredibly endearing.

It was only after a while that Sylvan Cheney responded.

Yolanda was in a good mood, and she naturally spread jam on a piece of bread for Sylvan Cheney with a gentle touch.

“Daddy…”

In a short while, Chale Cheney rubbing his drowsy eyes came down.

“Awake?” Sylvan Cheney looked up, his gaze was no longer indifferent.