Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 13

The breakfast spread was lavish, with various options to suit everyone’s tastes.

“Aren’t there any of those raviolis this morning?” Jeffrey asked, frowning slightly as he surveyed the table.

“No, sir,” a maid replied timidly. “If you’d like some, I can make them tomorrow.”

“Never mind. Yours don’t taste right anyway,” Jeffrey said dismissively, picking up his spoon.

After the original Yvonne had returned to the Spencer family, she had tried desperately to win them over. She paid close attention to everyone’s preferences and woke up early every morning to prepare breakfast for the family.

Jeffrey loved the raviolis she made, so she made them for him every day.

A frail young girl, kneading dough, chopping vegetables and meat, mixing the filling, and then carefully shaping and steaming each ravioli—it was a long and arduous process.

The Spencers ate breakfast at eight o’clock, but Jeffrey had never once considered what time the young girl had to wake up to prepare it all.

He took her efforts for granted, never offering so much as a kind word in return.

Teresa, sitting across from Jeffrey, also asked the maid with a hint of dissatisfaction, “Hasn't Yvonne been in the kitchen at all these past two days?”

“No, ma’am,” the maid answered truthfully.

Teresa’s face hardened. “She’s all for show, acting as if she does all the work in the kitchen. I guess she finally got tired of pretending and is showing her true colors.”

“Maybe Yvonne’s just been tired lately. She used to be quite diligent,” Queena said with false sincerity, playing the part of the understanding sister.

“Diligent? She’s just a glutton for punishment. I was worried her common ways would rub off on you. Queena, you’re the refined young lady I raised you to be. A true lady doesn’t dirty her hands with menial tasks. That is what makes you elegant and noble.”

“I know, Mother. Yvonne has many bad habits. I won’t learn from her,” Queena replied.

Teresa nodded, satisfied.

Queena pressed on, undeterred. “Yvonne, you haven’t made those raviolis for the past couple of days. Jeffrey was just saying he missed them.”

Yvonne paused, then remembered. That foolish girl had worked herself to the bone, cooking three meals a day, all in a desperate attempt to earn her family’s approval.

And in return, they had treated her like a servant.

Yvonne looked up from her plate, her gaze coolly sweeping over Queena and Jeffrey.

“He wants them, so I have to make them? Who does he think he is, a prince? He doesn't have a crown, so he can stop with the royal demands.”

Jeffrey’s face turned crimson with rage. He threw down his silverware, stood up, and stormed out.

Teresa opened her mouth to reprimand Yvonne, but the memory of her flipping the table the night before made her swallow her anger.