He again recalled that petite figure; she liked sitting on the sofa waiting for him, waiting for many years.
"Her name is Jasmine Yale, a very pretty girl. I think she should be the little angel sent to me by you, mother, to come into my life at my most hopeless and helpless moments. She liked me for many years and even had a child for me named Chale Cheney, your grandson."
"These years, I never forgot the family feud and even tried to take revenge, but in the end, I found that it made me very unhappy. Maybe I was too selfish, but if I am selfish this once, mother, would you forgive me?"
Sylvan Cheney wasn't a man of many words, but at this moment, he spoke a lot to the tombstone.
His gaze was fixed on the photo on the tombstone, as if Qiana Childe were still alive.
Since learning the whole truth in that year, his inner self had struggled countless times.
