Chapter 29

“Ms. Montgomery, didn’t your elders ever teach you to be respectful?” Yasmin sneered.

Brenda, having endured the immense sorrow of losing both parents within a year, didn't hold back after Ursula’s cruel words. Ursula was stunned by the slap, clutching her face as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her trembling hand pointed at Yasmin. “How dare you? What gives you the right to hit me?”

Jeremy touched his face absentmindedly. While Yasmin was ruthless and not to be trifled with, she had never slapped him before.

Veronica, delighted to find an outlet for her pent-up emotions, stepped forward, shielding Yasmin. “Yasmin has always been headstrong and reckless, but she didn’t mean any harm. She was acting on Brenda’s behalf. She was wrong to hit you. Let me apologize. We’re all familiar; there’s no need to escalate this, right?” Veronica skillfully played the role of a responsible, protective sister, pinning the blame on Yasmin while portraying herself as the bigger person. Yasmin, once naive and believing Veronica’s protectiveness, no longer held that belief.

Ursula, emboldened by Veronica’s apology, raised her hand to retaliate. Before she could strike, Brenda swiftly seized her wrist. “Ms. Montgomery, are you that eager to be hit tonight?”

A booming voice cut through the tension. “Ursula!” Caleb’s unexpected arrival silenced the room. His expression was unreadable.

Ursula sobbed uncontrollably, pointing at Yasmin. “She hit me! She slapped me!”

Caleb remained unfazed. “And you were planning to hit her back?” His calm tone suggested Ursula’s foolishness.

Veronica’s heart clenched, her nails digging into her palms. Was Caleb defending Yasmin? Didn’t he hate her? It had to be because she was still his wife.

Ursula turned to George, whining, “George.”

“My wife didn’t hit you,” George said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Ursula cried harder. Brenda lounged against the couch, her gaze lazily sweeping over George and Ursula. The event organizers had ushered the other guests away, leaving only a few.

Brenda looked at George. “When did you get back?”

“Last night.”

George, noticing several women, picked up a cigar but decided against lighting it.

Brenda smirked. “If you plan on making these grand appearances, please notify me in advance. I’d appreciate your cooperation.”

George glanced at her. “I sent you a message.”

Brenda frowned. “Impossible. I received nothing.”

George grabbed her chin, his breath warm against her skin. “Mrs. Howard, did you block me?”