Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 183

“Yes, thank you,” Oscar replied with a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Queena placed a piece of pristine white crab meat on his plate, and he thanked her again. Her eyes gleaming with triumph, she glanced provocatively at Yvonne. “Yvonne, do you eat seafood?”

“What are you trying to pull?” Yvonne retorted, setting down her fork. Her voice was ice. “You know perfectly well I’m allergic. Are you trying to kill me?”

She couldn’t fathom Queena’s twisted logic, always seeking to provoke her for no reason.

“Yvonne, you’ve misunderstood. That’s not what I meant at all,” Queena said, batting her eyelashes with a look of pure innocence.

Yvonne said nothing, simply staring her down. Jeffrey shot Queena a cold, reproachful look, while Joseph just seemed confused. The atmosphere at the table froze.

Teresa quickly intervened, setting down her utensils with a forced laugh. “Yvonne, honestly, can’t you just enjoy a meal in peace? Today is a special day—your sister is formally introducing her boyfriend. Don’t they look perfect together?”

“They do,” Yvonne agreed, her gaze sweeping over Oscar and Queena. “One has a reputation for his fiancées meeting tragic ends, and the other for her fiancés suffering the same. A match made in heaven, wouldn’t you say?”

The room fell into a deathly silence. Queena’s face cycled through shades of green and white, Oscar’s expression darkened, and George exploded. “What nonsense are you spouting? If you can’t speak properly, then get back to your room!”

“Why are you so angry, Dad? I was only joking,” Yvonne said, her wide, innocent eyes belying her sharp words. “Wasn’t it funny?”

She placed her fork down and rose from her seat. “I’m full anyway. I’ll head up. Please, enjoy the rest of your meal.”

With a table full of people and food that turned her stomach, she had no appetite left.

She followed Jenny to the study. Jenny knocked politely. “Sir, Ms. Jones is here.”

George’s muffled voice called from within, “Send her in.”

Jenny pushed the door open, and Yvonne stepped inside. George was sitting behind his large desk, his face a thunderous mask. The moment he saw her, he hurled the teacup in his hand. Yvonne sidestepped, and the cup shattered on the floor at her feet, splashing her with a few drops of hot tea.

She grimaced in disgust, then turned to Jenny at the door. “My father has had too much to drink. Could you please prepare some tea to help him sober up? Make a large pot. He clearly needs it.”

“Right away, miss,” Jenny replied, quickly turning to leave.

The study door clicked shut, leaving Yvonne alone with her father.