Jasmine Yale hesitated for a moment, then said softly, "I'll resolve it with him privately."
"Alright, if you need anything, feel free to call us."
"Thank you for your trouble."
"You're welcome."
In the cold wind, Jasmine Yale brushed aside the stray hair from her ears, her eyes carrying a deep glow.
Fortunately, Little Clementine was safe.
Jasmine Yale tightly clutched Sylvan Cheney's business card, her hands cold as she squeezed it.
Butler Santana saw that her complexion was not good and quickly said, "Miss Yale, should you make a call to Mr. Cheney first? He won't harm Little Clementine, you have to trust him."
"To Siesta Garden Hotel."
"Alright."
The hotel was not far from Chinatown, within walking distance.
It was a large, luxurious hotel built on vacant land near Chinatown, famous for its hot springs.
It was late at night, and the hotel loomed like a giant in the night.
In the sky, a bright moon quietly shone on the high-rise buildings.
