Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 80

“You can call me Helen. And what should I call you, dear?” Helen asked, bending down to place a pair of women’s slippers at Yvonne’s feet.

“Hello, Helen. I’m Yvonne,” she replied, her gaze pulling away from the balcony.

The slippers were brand new, pink with a Hello Kitty design. They must have been for his new girlfriend.

Yvonne slipped them on and followed Helen to the guest room.

Helen changed the bedding and, although the room was already spotless, she wiped down all the surfaces again.

“Your name is Yvonne? What a coincidence,” Helen chattered as she worked. “The master’s ex-girlfriend was named Yvonne, too.”

“Is that so? What a coincidence,” Yvonne murmured.

“You must be here on official business, then. Aside from Miss Yvonne, the master has never brought a girl home before,” Helen added.

“He… he hasn’t brought any girlfriends here?” Yvonne asked hesitantly.

Helen shook her head. “Never. I suppose he doesn’t want to make them uncomfortable, since his late girlfriend used to live here. He’s very considerate of his new partner’s feelings.”

Yvonne fell silent, a dull ache starting in her chest. This time, it wasn’t the original Yvonne’s lingering emotions. The pain was all hers.

That night, Yvonne couldn’t sleep.

She had slept on the ground, leaning against a tree during survival training, but here, in this place that was once so familiar, she tossed and turned all night.

She finally drifted off as dawn was breaking, only to wake up a few hours later.

He turned, his dark eyes unreadable.

“Go put some clothes on,” he said coldly. He then stood up and closed the piano lid.

A flush of embarrassment washed over her. She retreated to her room, showered, and changed into a modest blouse and a long skirt before re-emerging.

Helen had already made breakfast. “Good morning, Ms. Jones,” she said with a smile.

“Good morning, Helen,” Yvonne replied, her eyes drifting past the housekeeper to Bennett, who was now sitting on the sofa.

His long legs were crossed, and he was engrossed in a military journal, not even sparing her a glance.

“I made pumpkin porridge, and a vegetable stir-fry,” Helen said cheerfully. “Ms. Jones, if there’s anything you like, or anything you can’t eat, just let me know.”