Chapter 1564: Chapter 1564: Mr. Cheney, Help Me Get Out
Outside, it was pitch-black, the darkness swallowing everything; she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.
Just as she was ready to leave, the room service waiter arrived at the door.
"Miss, hello, your dinner."
"Thank you. Please put it on the table," Joan Harry said, feigning calm.
The waiter placed the dinner on the table and left.
Joan Harry’s heart was unsettled; only when no one else was around did she close the door and rush quickly toward the hotel elevator.
Every passing second felt like sheer agony, and her legs were trembling uncontrollably.
Under the lights, her face was ashen.
She carried nothing but her phone.
This hotel was one Jesse Rowan had driven her to. All she knew was that it was in a very remote location; without a car, her only option was to hide here for now.
When she reached the elevator, she jumped in and used a scarf to cover her face.
The elevator descended slowly. With a "ding," it reached the ground floor.
Walking out of the hotel, the cold wind whipped against her body as her fingers fidgeted with the phone in her coat pocket.
At this moment, she realized she didn’t know who to call.
Her parents? She shook her head.
Her father was still bedridden, and her mother had always been completely charmed by Jesse Rowan.
Who else could she call?
In that instant, she finally realized how alone she was—living in Landon for over a year without a single real friend.
Then, she thought of someone—Sylvan Cheney.
Should she call Mr. Cheney?
Her relationship with Sylvan Cheney had always been strictly professional; would Sylvan Cheney help her?
Although she knew Sylvan Cheney was an upright man, they had no personal ties. For a businessman, priorities would always lean toward self-interest, not the troubles of a stranger.
Sylvan Cheney would have no reason to offend Jesse Rowan for her sake.
Joan Harry hesitated.
She kept walking toward a secluded area as her mind wavered.
The cold wind carried an icy edge, cutting across her face like a blade.
Yet in Landon, the only person capable of saving her was Sylvan Cheney. Clinging to a sliver of hope, she dialed Sylvan Cheney’s number.
"Mr. Cheney," Joan Harry’s voice quivered, her entire body shivering in the wind, "it’s Joan Harry."
"I know," came the man’s deep, steady voice. "What’s the matter?"
"Mr. Cheney, could you come save me? I’m at the Four Seasons Hotel near the South Line racetrack." Joan Harry’s tone was urgent, fraught with fear.
"What happened?"
"Jesse Rowan brought me here, and I want to leave..." Joan Harry covered her mouth, lowering her voice, afraid to speak too loudly.
She was too anxious to explain properly, though she hoped Sylvan Cheney, being so astute, would understand.
Sure enough, upon hearing the sensitive keywords "racetrack" and "hotel," Sylvan Cheney grasped roughly seventy percent of the situation.
"Mr. Cheney, please save me, okay? Jesse Rowan is a demon; he’s truly a monster. I can’t bear to stay near him for another minute. I just want to get out... Mr. Cheney, help me escape; I’ll repay you, however you want." Tears streamed down her face.
The icy tears slid across her skin, leaving a sharp sting in their wake.
The wind continued to howl, and her body temperature was dropping bit by bit.
Her fingers trembled; she was terrified she’d lose the strength to hold on.
She understood how difficult this request might be for Sylvan Cheney.
But she had no other options...
She didn’t know who else to turn to or who had the power to rescue her.
She never wanted to trouble Sylvan Cheney.
Joan Harry stood in a dark corner of the wall, head bowed, trembling violently, not daring to make a sound.