As soon as she got home, Jasmine Yale ran to the balcony, pulled open the curtains, and looked downstairs.
After a while, she saw Sylvan Cheney's back as he left with an umbrella.
His black suit blended into the lonely night, his distinctly jointed hand holding the umbrella, leaving the residential area.
Jasmine Yale leaned against the window, the corners of her lips lifted.
"Miss Yale." Butler Santana walked in, "You haven't eaten yet, have you? Are you hungry?"
Jasmine Yale closed the curtains and walked down: "Yes, let's eat."
"Did Mr. Owen send you back? Why not invite him upstairs for a bit?"
"He... he had an urgent matter to handle, maybe next time."
"Alright, remember to bring him back sometime so I can have a look." Butler Santana had lived a long life, and she believed in her ability to judge people. Whether the man was sincere towards Jasmine Yale or not, she would at least be able to see through it.
