Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 292

Before Darcy could even process what had happened, he was knocked to the ground, landing in a pathetic, undignified heap.

“Bennett, you dare hit me!” Darcy sat on the floor, staring at Bennett in disbelief.

The Rogers family was not as powerful as the Thompsons, so Mr. Thompson hitting Darcy would have been one thing. But today was Mrs. Thompson’s birthday, and for Bennett to cause a scene at his own mother’s party was reckless.

Murmurs began to ripple through the onlookers.

Emma, who had come upstairs with some friends, saw the whole thing.

“Bennett, what’s going on?”

Bennett didn’t answer. He shot a cold glare at Darcy, then swept Yvonne up into his arms and strode toward the guest rooms, ordering a servant to call a doctor as he went.

Thomas and Yolanda, who were just coming up the stairs, saw Bennett’s retreating back as he carried a woman away, both of them looking completely bewildered.

“Mrs. Thompson, what happened?” Yolanda asked, her eyes full of confusion as she walked to Emma’s side.

Emma’s face was cold, and she didn’t reply.

Just then, Noah and Karina hurried over.

Karina saw the toppled cake tower and Darcy just getting to his feet, assuming he had accidentally knocked it over.

She directed servants to clean up the mess while saying to Darcy, “It’s just a small accident, Mr. Rogers. I hope you weren’t hurt.”

Darcy’s cheek was already numb with pain. His face grim, he turned and stalked downstairs.

Karina was left completely baffled.

“Karina, where’s Yvonne? I don’t see her,” Thomas asked, his eyes scanning the hall.

The doctor had never seen the young heir look so tense, anxious, and even terrified. He didn’t dare waste a second and began his examination.

“It’s a food allergy. Any later and she would have gone into anaphylactic shock,” the doctor said, putting away his stethoscope and pulling an injectable antihistamine and a disposable syringe from his bag.

After the doctor gave Yvonne the injection, the color began to return to her face, and her breathing finally eased.

But she was still miserable and couldn’t open her eyes.

Yvonne’s hand clutched at the collar of her dress. The discomfort was so intense that tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, tracing paths down her pale cheeks. She looked helpless and pitiful.

In her hazy consciousness, she felt a cool hand gently wipe the tears from her face, then rest on her forehead. The cool touch was strangely comforting.

Yvonne instinctively grabbed the hand, pressing it to her cheek and then her heart, letting out a soft sigh of relief.