Chapter 392: No matter how low life is, it’s still your own
The sky was again dripping raindrops, landing on the earth, landing on the broad banana leaves.
In the quiet of the night, Jasmine Yale sat by the bed, hugging her knees.
Eyes closed, everywhere was very quiet, only the endless sound of rain, echoing as if from a distant horizon.
Pattering, ethereal, serene.
In a room without windows, Jasmine had no idea how big the rain outside was.
This was already her third day being trapped here.
Occasionally, she managed to glean some information from the servants—
Yolanda Fern hadn’t left Landon yet, Chris Fern was in the hospital during the day, sometimes on duty at night, Spencer Childe was getting old and was in poor health, spending most of his time in the hospital…
On top of that, during this period, Jasmine really upset Spencer Childe quite a bit. The old man hopped around in the hospital, on fluids for several days.
He was even issued a critical illness notice by the doctor.
Jasmine found it hilarious.
They had captured her, intending to take her life, yet they didn’t allow her to complain about it?
Anyway, she tried her best to irritate Spencer Childe every chance she got.
The best outcome would be his death, and the resulting chaos!
However, Chris Fern was trickier to deal with than she had anticipated, impervious to any persuasion, never betraying a thing, no matter what was said.
But she learned intermittently from the servants that – Chris Fern was only an adopted son of the Fern Family.
He must have really exhausted himself for his biological sister!
The rain outside continued non-stop, making the entire mansion extraordinarily quiet.
No extraneous sounds could be heard.
The clock on the table pointed to “10”, it was ten o’clock at night.
The night was silent, the air oppressively heavy.
Jasmine felt as if she could sense the chill seeping in through the door crevice.
She sat there, holding her knees, her face hazy.
She wanted to live, she really did.
If she couldn’t live, then she didn’t want to save Yolanda. Why should she save her?
Of course, if Sylvan Cheney personally asked her, she would save Yolanda… after all, she owed him her life, and twelve years of gratitude.
But as long as Sylvan Cheney didn’t ask, she wouldn’t be willing to save her!
No matter how base her life was, it was still hers.
She shouldn’t have to be the sacrificial lamb, nor the pawn.
Thinking about all this, Jasmine Yale started crying, tears falling drop by drop.
“All bastards…” Jasmine sobbed and choked.
Why wasn’t there a single person in this world who cared for her?
When she was young, her father didn’t care about her, her stepmother hit her, and Kamila Zahir didn’t like her either.
The only person who loved her, her mother, had long since passed away.
As Jasmine thought about it again, her fate had truly been terrible… She had experienced it all.
Later on, she finally had her own flesh and blood in her belly, her closest little life…
Yet, her only hope had completely vanished three years ago.
She had nothing left…
At this thought, her tears fell more fiercely, like unstoppable raindrops.
Hans Colin said she lacked love, and everyone believed him.
Yes, she lacked love, and was also insecure.
Whoever treated her a bit better, she took it as real, unable to discern whether it was insincere.
The sound of crying mixed with the sound of rain, wafting in the air.
She didn’t know how long she cried for, but eventually, she cried herself tired.
Between her fingers, she held a white pill, dampened slightly by sweat.
It was nothing else but a sleeping pill.
One day, she had poured out nearly half a bottle from the female doctor’s medicine chest.
She had taken these before.
During the time she lost her child, when she couldn’t sleep night after night, she relied on these small pills to get through the day.
But nobody knew about this. She didn’t want to tell anyone either.
People are capable of causing harm, and once it’s out, the one who gets hurt is still herself..