Fated love: the unwanted bride

Chapter 817: Chapter 817 His Handsome Profile Looms through the Mist

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Sylvan Cheney looked anxiously at Jasmine Yale in his arms, her body was burning hot.

Soon, doctors hurried toward the woods.

“Mr. Cheney, what’s the condition of the patient?” the doctor asked nervously.

“High fever, no other issues discovered for now,” Sylvan Cheney furrowed his brow.

He didn’t know what had happened to her when she was with Yolanda Fern; there were no obvious injuries on her body, but he couldn’t assure that Yolanda hadn’t done something to her.

Why did Jasmine still have a high fever after waking up, while Yolanda had disappeared?

There were no signs of a struggle or fight in and around the cave, and Jasmine Yale had not given any distress signals.

On his way to find her, he even had some terrible thoughts.

Fortunately, she was safe in the end.

“Mr. Cheney, let me take care of the patient,” the doctor reached out his arms.

Sylvan Cheney glanced at him but didn’t agree, continuing to carry Jasmine Yale toward the car.

The hands on his wristwatch already pointed to a quarter past two.

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It was the quietest moment of the early hours, where nothing could be heard but the rain.

Sylvan Cheney didn’t let go of Jasmine Yale until he had placed her in the ambulance; his tense face finally began to relax.

The darkness beneath his eyes faded a bit.

The young nurse in the ambulance quickly hung up an IV bag for Jasmine Yale and administered a fever reducer.

Only when the ambulance had left did Sylvan Cheney’s heart completely settle.

He closed his haggard eyes, the fatigue evident beneath his eyelids.

“Mr. Cheney, please get in the car,” the bodyguard said, opening the door of the sports car for Sylvan Cheney.

The road was covered with plenty of rainwater, which wouldn’t recede.

Under the streetlights, these puddles shimmered with a bright sheen, sparkling like the light on waves.

Raindrops splashed, landing on the lower legs of Sylvan Cheney’s trousers.

Under the streetlights, his tall figure was enveloped in a soft halo.

Sylvan Cheney climbed into the sports car, and the bodyguard folded the umbrella.

Inside the car, Sylvan Cheney wiped the rain off his head and lit a cigarette.

The suppressed emotions finally dispersed with the scent of nicotine, numbing his nerves.

His long fingers held the cigarette, white smoke slowly rising around his handsome, partially concealed profile.

The chiseled features of his face became even more defined.

The sports car sped through the rain, breaking through the curtain of water.

When the cigarette was halfway smoked, Lilac Serval called.

“Mr. Cheney, what’s the situation now?”

“Jasmine’s been found and taken to the hospital.”

On the other end, there was a definite sigh of relief, “And what about Yolanda Fern?”

“Not found.”

“Not found?” Lilac Serval was very surprised.

Logically, Yolanda was supposed to be with Jasmine Yale, so why was Jasmine found but not Yolanda?

Sylvan Cheney spoke in a calm voice, rubbing his temple as he summarised the events for her.

Lilac Serval and Charles McIntosh’s experience in searching for people and their wilderness survival skills indeed proved rich; without their guidance, he feared he wouldn’t have found Jasmine Yale so quickly.

As Lilac listened, her brows furrowed deeply.

Is that so?

“Mr. Cheney, is it possible that Miss Yale shook off Yolanda quite early and took shelter in the cave alone?”

“There aren’t any signs of a struggle in the woods; logically, Jasmine is unlikely to be a match for Yolanda.”

“Mmm, we’ll have to wait and ask Miss Yale when she wakes up. But Mr. Cheney, do you need me to help look for Yolanda? It’s uneasy not finding her for a day.”

“The woods and hillside are completely sealed off; what follows is a massive search operation.”

“I’ll help out when it’s daylight,” Lilac said.

“Okay,” Sylvan Cheney nodded in agreement, accepting her offer.

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