Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 182

Sandra knew what recklessness led to. She herself had been too impatient once, sneaking into George’s office to find evidence. Yvonne had been sacrificed covering for her, her identity as an undercover officer exposed.

“I know. Don’t worry, Sandra, I won’t do anything rash,” Yvonne promised before ending the call to focus on the road.

She returned to the Spencer manor, pulling into the driveway to find a flashy black Bentley parked in one of the spots.

“We have guests?” she asked a maid working in the yard as she locked her car.

“Mr. Rogers is visiting,” the maid replied. “The master and madam are making a big fuss over him. They’ve even instructed the kitchen to prepare several extra dishes.”

Yvonne nodded, grabbing her purse and jacket before heading inside. As she entered, she was greeted by the sound of cheerful laughter from the living room.

“Oscar knew your father would like it, so he had it specially brought over. It’s the finest quality,” a girlish voice cooed. “And these are for you, Mom, for your health.”

Queena was nestled beside a young man, looking every bit the delicate, adoring girlfriend.

“You’re too generous, Mr. Rogers,” Teresa said with a warm smile.

“Please, Mrs. Spencer, call me Oscar,” the young man replied. As the heir to a prominent family, his manners were impeccable, showing deference and respect to his elders.

“‘Mr. Rogers’ does sound too formal,” Teresa continued, beaming. “After all, we’ll be one big family soon enough. My Queena is still a bit young, not quite of legal age to marry, so you can’t get married just yet. But you could get engaged first! That would make it perfectly proper for you two to live together.”

At the dining table, a lavish spread was already laid out. George sat at the head, with Teresa to his right. His left side, usually reserved for his eldest son, Jeffrey, was occupied by Oscar. Queena sat beside Oscar, pushing Jeffrey and Joseph further down the table to sit with Yvonne.

The meal was another seafood feast, tailored entirely to Queena’s tastes. Having snagged the Rogers family heir, her status had clearly skyrocketed. Yvonne frowned, picking at a few side dishes with her fork, keeping her head down.

George had a bottle of expensive wine opened and was enthusiastically toasting Oscar, his words dripping with flattery. The whole display was rather pathetic. It was one thing to be welcoming, but George and Queena’s fawning felt cheap, like they were selling her off to the highest bidder.

Queena, a true seafood lover, had already worked her way through a plate of shrimp and was now expertly dismantling a king crab, her slender fingers never stopping. Yvonne wondered if she ever worried about her breath smelling of fish when she kissed someone.

“Oscar, do you like crab?” Queena asked, her smile radiant. “I’m very good at shelling it. Let me get some for you.”