Chapter 713: Chapter 713: Jasmine Yale on the Brink of Death
“Is it not enough that I’ve already compromised? Sylvan Cheney, Yolanda has already suffered enough. Will you not show her any mercy?” Chris Fern erupted angrily.
It was only when he spoke of Yolanda that an array of emotions surfaced on his face.
Happiness, anger, sorrow, and joy.
He seemed more like a living being then.
Perhaps… Yolanda was indeed the sole reason for him to carry on living.
To love someone to this extent, it indeed elicited sighs from people.
“It appears you too understand the kind of offenses committed here lead only to a dead-end,” Sylvan’s voice sounded detached.
“But you and grandfather are still alive, are you not? If you’re still alive, why can’t you forgive her… let me bear all her sins… won’t that work…” Chris Fern was suddenly sobered by sorrow.
He couldn’t imagine what it’d be like if Yolanda were to die…
No, if she were to die, he would follow her to the grave.
As they had promised, in heaven or in hell, they would always be together.
“Attempted murder carries a sentence too, understand?” Sylvan lectured coldly.
This young man, unaccustomed to hardship.
His actions towards Yolanda betrayed the fact that he hadn’t fully considered the consequences if he failed.
Or perhaps he didn’t even think about it.
Youth often brings impulsiveness and folly. One always assumes that success is guaranteed as long as you work towards it.
However, reality always comes crashing down hard.
“No, it won’t work!” Chris Fern clutched his head in agony, “How can Yolanda be sent to prison, how can she possibly undergo such hardship? It’s not a place fit for humans. Sylvan Cheney, as long as you and grandfather don’t press charges, and pretend nothing happened, the police won’t come after us!”
“Chris Fern, you are too naive!” Sylvan frowned, his voice filled with contempt.
Pretend like nothing happened?
Sylvan could still remember the cold touch of Jasmine Yale’s body when she was close to death.
How could they pretend nothing happened?
It must be said, this man who had little experience with the world, was too naive. He still hoped to get off scot-free while Sylvan and his grandfather turned a blind eye?
Charles McIntosh, with a helpless look on his face, slowly shook his head.
“No, it can’t be…” Chris Fern suddenly crouched down.
He hugged his knees tightly, sobbing uncontrollably.
All the calm he had maintained for so long shattered. He was sobbing like a child.
The echo of his sobs resounded throughout the long underground passage, stark and chilling.
Chris Fern’s face was streaked with tears, he was too choked up to speak.
His mask was wet, and soon so was his collar.
It seemed that only crying could provide some sort of release for all his anguish.
Despite others being present, he wept unabashedly, his cries loud, spilling forth his grief.
Yolanda, that delicate and gentle girl, how can she be sent to prison?
A prison is a place devoid of sunlight, she definitely cannot bear it and might die.
“She has already suffered enough, why can’t she be spared just this once, why can’t we let her off. Sylvan Cheney, if it were your wife who was violated by another man, would you still remain calm?”
“Chris Fern!” Sylvan shouted out coldly, his face hardening, “Don’t push your luck!”
Charles spoke with indifference, “Chris Fern, choosing to risk everything by defying Mr. Cheney will result in you paying a heavy price. There’s no escaping a gruesome fate when you fall from great heights.”
Sylvan’s face was enveloped in frosty nonchalance, his expression chillingly grim.
He held a cigarette between his fingers smoldering slowly, ashes falling occasionally onto the ground.
Chris Fern sobbed, clutching his head, filled with despair and sorrow.
He constantly ran his hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes bloodshot, filled with deep-seated sadness and grief.