Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 18

Teresa’s gaze shifted to Yvonne, now filled with suspicion.

Yvonne met her stare without flinching, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Fighting? Who needs to learn?” She pointed a finger at Queena. “Her biological mother… in the sweltering summer, she’d make me stand under the blazing sun. If I fainted from the heat, she’d just throw a bucket of cold water on me. In the dead of winter, she’d make me kneel in the snow. If I passed out from the cold, same thing—a bucket of cold water to wake me up. I guess you could say my year-round training forged me into an unbeatable warrior.”

The biting sarcasm in her words unexpectedly brought tears to Teresa’s eyes. As much as she looked down on Yvonne, this was the daughter she had carried for nine months. The thought of her being abused so cruelly was something even she couldn’t ignore.

But before Teresa could say anything, a soft whimpering sound filled the room.

Queena’s shoulders were shaking as she began to sob.

“I’m so sorry, sister, I’m so sorry! I never knew they were like that! How could I have parents like them? Waaah…”

She cried so tragically it was as if her own mother had just died.

“Queena, don’t blame yourself. It’s their sin, it has nothing to do with you,” Teresa said, instinctively pulling Queena into a comforting embrace as she saw her pale, tear-streaked face.

Yvonne reflexively stuck a finger in her ear, her brow furrowed in annoyance.

“Crying, crying, what are you crying for? If anyone should be crying here, it’s me!” Yvonne’s sharp voice cut through their tender mother-daughter moment.

“While you were being spoiled by my parents and my brother, I was being beaten with a stick by your biological mother. While you were attending a prestigious school, your mother was cutting up my school uniforms so I couldn’t go. From the day I was born, I never had enough clothes to wear or food to eat. Meanwhile, you’re draped in designer clothes, pampered and perfect. So what exactly are you crying so miserably about? Are you expecting me to apologize to you? To comfort you? Does that seem appropriate to you?”

“I’m tired. I’m going back to my room.”

Yvonne went upstairs and didn’t come down again until dinner.

George was home, his face as dark as a thundercloud. He had clearly been informed of the day’s events.

Yvonne paid him no mind, casually taking her seat and signaling for a maid to pour her a cup of water.

“You little monster, all you know how to do is cause trouble!” George bellowed, pointing his finger at her. “You are going to give me Ms. Smith’s phone right now, and then you’re coming with me to the Smith family to apologize. If you do that, I will pretend today never happened. Otherwise…”

Yvonne took a sip of water, then, without warning, slammed the delicate porcelain cup onto the floor. It shattered with a loud crack, cutting George’s threat short.