Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 303

Emma clutched her chest as she spoke.

"Yvonne died a hero. Don't say things like that again, especially not in front of Bennett," Frank said with a long sigh, not echoing his wife's sentiment.

"How would I dare let Bennett hear such things? He'd throw another fit," Emma sighed as well.

"Alright, let's get some rest. I'll have my secretary visit the hospital tomorrow and send some nutritional supplements to Yolanda," Frank said, patting his wife's shoulder.

…

A night of heavy drinking left Yvonne with a splitting headache the next morning, and parts of the previous night were a blur.

The events replayed in her mind like fragmented, surreal clips.

"Yvonne, are you awake?" Helen's voice came from outside the door, accompanied by a gentle knock.

Yvonne threw off the covers, got out of bed, and opened the door.

Helen stood there, holding a warm bowl of hangover soup, her eyes filled with concern. Bullet sat at Helen's feet, looking up and wagging his tail.

"Do you have a headache? I made some soup to help. Drink it while it's hot."

"Thank you, Helen." Yvonne drank the soup, a warmth spreading through her stomach.

"Breakfast is ready. I made a savory rice porridge that's been simmering for a long time. It's fragrant and thick; I'm sure you'll love it," Helen said with a smile as she took the empty bowl.

Yvonne took Bullet to the dining room for breakfast.

She sat at the table and waited for a long time, but Bennett never appeared.

"The young master returned to the base early this morning. It seems he had a mission," Helen explained, having only set two places at the table.

"Oh." Yvonne nodded upon hearing this. She felt a sense of relief, but also a strange pang of disappointment.

After washing up, Yvonne was finally awake. She changed her clothes and headed to the set with her assistant.

Yvonne's makeup took four hours. While the hairstylist worked on her hair, she leaned back in the chair and caught up on sleep.

When she woke up, the makeup room was bustling with noise.

A group of people was fawning over a young woman with a noble air, escorting her in. Even the assistant director was trailing behind her like an attendant.

They went straight to the private dressing room next door, a privilege reserved for the female lead.

"Who was that? She seems important. The assistant director was personally escorting her, and she got the private dressing room," the makeup artist asked, her face a mask of curiosity and gossip.

"You don't know her? That's Yolanda, the 'Piano Princess,' Mr. Walker's daughter. She's held many solo concerts and is quite famous in the music world. Lately, she's been taking on guest roles in a few productions. Looks like she's trying to break into the entertainment industry."

A crew member chimed in.