He blocked half her light.
A trace of detachment flashed across Jasmine Yale's eyes, as if she knew what he was going to say without him speaking.
However, those were words she didn't want to hear.
She lowered her head, packed her backpack, and prepared to leave.
"Jasmine Yale, don't play the victim, I don't care for such tricks typical of women. Not speaking? Silent? Do you know there's a saying that silence implies consent?"
"Consent to what? Mr. Cheney, we've already broken up, haven't we?"
Jasmine Yale finally turned around and looked up at him.
Against the light, his black bespoke suit glimmered with a silvery sheen, and the light layered a blur over his deep-set features. His eyes were bloodshot.
"Jasmine Yale, it just dawned on me today that this is also one of your tricks, right? Going out with different men every so often, satisfying both your physical and financial desires? It's easier to get money from men than from working, isn't it?"
