"Tell me." Sylvan Cheney grabbed her shoulders, his demeanor forceful, his gaze piercing her eyes with a sharp glint, "Where are you hurt?"
Jasmine Yale did not push him away again; she only glanced at him indifferently, "Hotel room, me, a tall man from UT. What do you think would happen?"
When Jasmine looked at him, from Sylvan Cheney's perspective, he could see her disheveled hair and the icy glare in her eyes.
Upon hearing her response, Sylvan Cheney's hand involuntarily trembled.
He stared at her in shock, hands tightly gripping her shoulders, forgetting to let go.
How could it be...
"President, you're hurting me." She said calmly, "My shoulder."
"I'm sorry, I was late... Who did it?"
"President, I don't know who did it, but there's no need to ask that." Jasmine appeared quiet and peaceful. "I know you have a scale in your heart, weighing pros and cons. But there is no perfect solution in this world; since you've already made a choice, don't come looking for me anymore."
