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... ed Sylvan Cheney’s gaze as it fell on her face, wishing he could glean something from her eyes.
Jasmine Yale pushed the glass before her and stood up.
“Jasmine Yale, sit down!” Sylvan Cheney commanded in a cold voice.
“Mr. Cheney, you can’t control me. Let me say it again, if not for Little Chale, I never wish to have any connection with you in my lifetime!”
Jasmine Yale gazed indifferently, her eyes cold as ice.
“Why?”
Sylvan Cheney’s fingers ligh ...
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