The time ticked away, every passing second making Sylvan Cheney's forehead bead with sweat from the anxious and unbearable waiting.
He closed his eyes, supporting his forehead with his hand.
He shouldn't have asked her to go to Mr. Dick's estate today.
Kade Yuvan's heart was no calmer than Sylvan Cheney's; he too felt a bit tortured.
Every minute and every second was torment, afraid that the opening door would bring bad news.
At night, he had seen Jasmine Yale busy taking care of the boss, and he wished he could have stopped her then.
Silence, endless silence.
The sky was not yet light, and outside the window was the pitch black of night.
No one knew how long it had been, as if a long century had passed.
Finally, with a creak, the door to the department opened, and a nurse pushed Jasmine Yale out.
Jasmine Yale's face was pale, with fine beads of sweat on her forehead. She held her head with one hand, her eyes closed in discomfort.
