She was just standing by the sink, running water, oblivious to the noises outside the door.
Water droplets splashed onto her long lashes, and as her eyelids slightly quivered, the droplets rolled into the sink.
Her freshly touched-up makeup was ruined again, and her heart beat erratically, several times as if it would jump out of her throat.
The churning sensation in her stomach subsided a bit.
Just then, the bathroom door was pushed open and quickly locked from the inside.
Jasmine Yale was startled, looked up, and saw Sylvan Cheney's silhouette in the mirror.
His suit was wrinkled, his tie askew, yet his cold, reserved expression remained unchanged.
Sylvan Cheney took two steps towards her, his icy gaze falling on her back, colder than the water from the faucet.
Jasmine Yale reached out to turn off the faucet, propped herself up on the sink, and remained silent.
