Chapter 123
But her fate was sealed. There was nothing George or Queena could do.
“Mom, just hang in there. Ten years will fly by,” Queena said, her eyes red. Then, through gritted teeth, she added, “That bitch Yvonne… I will make her pay for this.”
…
With Megan sentenced, Yvonne felt an incredible sense of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. It must have been the original Yvonne’s lingering emotions—the pain, the grief, the injustice. With Megan finally punished, her soul could find peace.
Yvonne treated Sandra and her lawyer to a celebratory dinner. After a satisfying meal, she returned to the Spencer estate.
“Yvonne, you’re back! Have you eaten? I had Jenny make your favorite-crispy calamari,” Teresa said with a warm smile from the living room couch, where she was watching TV. She was clearly unaware of Megan’s sentencing, but it was a rare occasion for her to remember Yvonne’s preferences.
“I just ate. You can have it,” Yvonne replied coolly, heading straight for the stairs. This belated display of motherly affection meant nothing to her now.
After dinner, the smell of food clung to her clothes. She tossed them in the hamper and took a quick shower. She was standing in front of her vanity, drying her hair, when a knock came at the door. Before she could answer, Queena walked in, her eyes red and swollen.
“What do you want?” Yvonne asked, turning off the hair dryer and fixing her with a cold stare.
“My mother is in prison. She was sentenced to twelve years,” Queena said, glaring at her.
“She got what she deserved. Our country’s laws are just,” Yvonne replied. Megan should have been imprisoned five years ago for abusing the original Yvonne, but her weakling of a host had been powerless to stop that scumbag father from covering it up.
“My mother is innocent! You framed her! You transferred that money to her willingly. She raised you for over a decade what’s wrong with her taking little something for
her
trouble? queena shrieked her eyes wild. “You set her up, didn’t you?!”
Yvonne narrowed her eyes, then let out a soft snort. “Trying to bait me into a confession? You’re not that clever.”
As she spoke, she moved closer and, with a swift motion, plucked a phone from Queena’s pocket. The screen showed it was actively recording.
Caught, Queena’s face turned from white to red. “Yvonne, give me back my phone!” she cried, lunging for it. Whether by accident or design, her hand grabbed the collar of Yvonne’s blouse.
“Let go,” Yvonne said, her eyes flashing as she shoved her away.
Suddenly, Queena glanced behind her, a twisted expression on her face. Ina low, menacing voice, she said, “You’re right, Yvonne. To deal with bitch like you have to be
willing to do whatever it takes.”
With that, she let her body fall backward, screaming at the top of her lungs, “Matthew, save me! Ah!”
Behind her was a large set of French doors, left wide open in the summer heat. As her scream echoed through the room, Queena tumbled out of the opening and disappeared from view.
“Queena!”
“Queena! Oh my god, Queena!”
Teresa, who had just walked in with Matthew, witnessed the entire scene. Her face went pale with shock.
Blinded by rage, Matthew lunged at Yvonne, his hand raised to strike her.