Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 300

Yvonne was about to refuse, but she saw Bennett had already taken his jacket and car keys from the coat rack and was heading for the door.

Yvonne followed him out of the Moore's home.

Bennett’s car was parked in the building’s underground garage. Yvonne got into the passenger seat, buckled her seatbelt, and gave him the address of the film set.

Bennett started the car and drove out of the garage, cruising smoothly along the wide road.

Dusk settled over the city, and streetlights began to glow, casting a continuous stream of dim, yellow light into the car.

The silence inside was absolute. Neither of them spoke.

Finally, the jarring ring of a cell phone broke the stillness.

Bennett’s phone was connected to the car’s Bluetooth system. When he answered, a voice filled the car through the speakers.

It was Yolanda.

“Ben, my stomach hurts so much…”

Bennett disconnected the Bluetooth and raised the phone to his ear.

He listened to whatever else was said on the other end, and his expression grew grave. “Don’t be scared. Have the staff call for an ambulance first. I’ll be there soon.”

After ending the call, Bennett’s hands, long and elegant, remained on the steering wheel, and the car continued to speed forward.

Although Yvonne hadn’t heard the rest of Yolanda's conversation, she guessed that she was unwell and wanted Bennett to be with her.

It was completely understandable. When you’re sick and vulnerable, even if you’re surrounded by staff, you want the person you love by your side.

Yvonne spoke up tactfully. “You can just pull over at the next intersection. It’s easy to get a taxi from there, and I can get back on my own. Ms. Walker isn’t well; she must need you.”

Just as she was about to get up and leave, a group of young men approached her.

They looked like they had come together, well-dressed men who seemed to be corporate professionals.

“Hey beautiful, care to join us for a drink?” one of them asked, signaling the bartender and ordering several expensive bottles of liquor.

Yvonne ignored them, opening a ride-sharing app on her phone to call a car.

“So cold. Not even going to say hello?” another man said.

“You look familiar. Are you a celebrity? The one… what’s her name…?” a third man said, seeming to recognize her and looking shocked.

“You have the wrong person,” Yvonne said, getting to her feet unsteadily, wanting to leave.