Fated love: the unwanted bride

Moreover, there is always a queue at each one of them.

It was rare that she would ask him for something such that no matter what, he had to fulfill her request.

“Very well, I’ll make a phone call right now.” Zaiden Santos was still a bit sleepy.

However, he had to carry out the task assigned by Sylvan Cheney.

But there’s no way he believed that there’s nothing to it, given the sizable effort Sylvan was exerting.

Sylvan Cheney hung up the phone and prepared to drive forward in his Rolls-Royce.

The snow was still falling, the sky gloomy and overcast — it seemed the sun would not show itself for several days.

At a glance, everything was blanketed in white.

People were rushing about on the streets under their umbrellas, snowflakes falling on the trees, umbrellas, and streets, creating a series of monotonous scenes.

Zaiden Santos was swift and decisive in handling matters, displaying exceptional efficiency.

By the time Sylvan Cheney reached an intersection, the road was closed off and the path was open for his car.

At that moment, Chale Cheney called Sylvan Cheney.

“Dad, you did not come home yesterday.”

“Mm.”

“Dad, are you awake?”

“Do you think everyone is like you?”

Chale Cheney frowned. He too was rather diligent. Why would Elder Cheney dislike him so much?

“Dad, where are you?”

“Outside.”

“Are you coming back home? I want to drink soymilk from the Lean Brand.” Chale Cheney stared at the phone longingly, “Could you bring some home on the way? Please?”

“It’s not on the way, maybe another day.”

Chale Cheney was instantly disappointed: “Okay then.”

After hanging up the phone, Sylvan Cheney’s car had just stopped in front of Lean Brand.

Due to the snow, there were far fewer people than usual, but the enthusiasm was still there.

Sylvan Cheney, wearing a black scarf, hands tucked into his coat pockets, silently stood at the end of the queue.

A few snowflakes landed on his head, wetting his fringe.

“Mr. Cheney, don’t tell me you have gone to the trouble of closing a road just to buy soymilk here.” Zaiden Santos suddenly drove over.

This man seemed to be about the same age as Sylvan Cheney.

He exited his Bentley and walked directly towards Sylvan Cheney.

Zaiden Santos was wearing a grey overcoat. He was tall and refined in demeanor.

“What brings you here?” Sylvan Cheney asked, a frown on his brow.

“Just curious. Besides, Harper wanted to drink this place’s soymilk.” Zaiden Santos gave a slight smile.

“Harper? Are you referring to that woman from outside–Harper Glorian?” Sylvan Cheney glanced at him dismissively.

“Mm.”

“You invest a lot for her sake.”

“Mr. Cheney, so early in the morning and you’ve lined up, don’t tell me it’s for Little Chale Cheney?”

Zaiden Santos’s eyes narrowed slightly, presenting a profound depth in his handsome eyes.

“Most probably.” Sylvan Cheney said, keeping his eyes on the front of the queue.

“Most probably?” Zaiden Santos didn’t believe him.

“You should go join the queue at the back.” Sylvan Cheney found him to be too inquisitive.

“No need to line up. I know the owner, they set aside some for me every day.” Zaiden Santos revealed a charming smile.

Having said that, he began to walk in.

“Mr. Cheney, shall I help you buy?”

“No need.” Sylvan Cheney declined.

Not a lot of people were present that day.

After queuing for ten minutes, Sylvan got his purchase.

He headed directly to his Rolls-Royce, while Zaiden Santos was leaning against his black Bentley.

A few snowflakes landed on Zaiden’s hair, the young man’s figure appearing increasingly outstanding.

Amidst the falling snow, he added a touch of elegance.

Zaiden Santos gave a soft smile, his eyes unraveling a captivating depth: “Heading back?”

“Mm.” Sylvan Cheney opened the car door, cautioning, “Zaiden Santos, be careful. Don’t forget, you’re married.”

Zaiden Santos did not respond.

Sylvan Cheney got in the driver’s seat, stepped on the gas, and drove off.