Fated love: the unwanted bride

He didn’t have such a huge amount of liquid assets in hand.

“No swap.” Chale Cheney shook his head firmly.

“You’re just a kid, these things are no use to you anyway, let’s negotiate, and exchange them.” Joe Heath pleaded appeasingly.

“Who says they’re useless? I can give them to the girl I like.”

“…” Joe put his hand on his forehead in disbelief.

Bad at such a young age, he’s gonna be trouble when he grows up.

“Chale, listen to Uncle Joe…” Joe Heath was trying to reason.

“Nope, none of that. Uncle Joe, just tell me if you’re giving them or not.”

Joe Heath surprisingly couldn’t find a reason to refute, to give them would hurt, and to not give them wouldn’t sound good if it got out.

He, Joe Heath, was not short of money, but… to just squander it away like that?

Tens of millions!

“I’ll give… but…” Joe Heath tried to find another excuse.

“Thanks, Uncle Joe.”

Having said that, Chale Cheney didn’t even give Joe a chance to find another excuse and straight away cut the call off!

As soon as the call ended, he jumped down from his chair and dashed straight towards the sofa.

He jumped on the sofa, and clung around Sylvan Cheney’s neck!

“Dad, Uncle Joe is very angry.”

“Hands off.” Sylvan Cheney looked at him with a contemptuous expression.

“No, Dad, Bobby is so smart, you should praise me.” Chale cajoled Sylvan Cheney.

However, Sylvan Cheney was impervious.

No matter how Chale acted cute, his face remained stern.

Still, there was a bit more tenderness and affection in his eyes.

His big hand stroked Chale’s head and tousled his hair: “Go do your homework.”

“Dad, it seems to be going to rain outside.”

“Hmm, it is going to rain.”

Sylvan Cheney cast his gaze downwards, looking out the window.

The sky outside was overcast, carrying the solemn coldness typical of midwinter.

The wind was blowing the dead leaves around, they would spin for a moment before quickly falling to the ground.

North wind howling, dull grey skies.

The sky in the distance was shrouded with a layer of grey color.

When Charles Mcintosh entered, he witnessed the scene—

Chale was nestled in Sylvan Cheney’s arms, rubbing Sylvan’s sweater, while Sylvan was caressing his head, his gaze indulgent.

The little guy was still talking incessantly.

Sylvan was listening quietly, unresponsive, yet attentively.

Charles had rarely seen such a loving expression on Sylvan’s face, it seems, he shows this face only to two people.

One was Chale Cheney, and the other was Jasmine Yale.

Upon spotting Charles, Sylvan sent Chale upstairs.

“Mr. Cheney, Elder Childe returned to the country, I sent someone to pick him up,” Charles explained, “The old man looked very pleased.”

“In regard to the heart matching issue of Miss Yolanda, he has not made any further mention, however, he conveyed a message through someone, expressing his disapproval of Miss Yale and forbidding you from having any contact with her.”

Sylvan Cheney’s expression remained indifferent: “Is there anything else?”

“The old man said he has brought the key to the safety deposit box and will hand over your wife’s entire legacy to you tomorrow.”

Charles relayed his message word by word.

“What about his personal estate?” Sylvan asked.

“Only given to Miss Yolanda.”

Sylvan’s lips turned up in a cold smirk: “I see.”

“Mr. Cheney, about the engagement party…”

“Proceed as planned, don’t forget, Teagan Cheney hasn’t returned yet.”

“I understand.”

“Charles, the mistake you made three years ago, I will no longer investigate it, but from today onwards, weigh your decisions carefully.” Sylvan’s voice was icy cold.

His icy gaze swept over Charles’s face.

Charles felt enormous pressure.