Chapter 153


    Chapter 153 Madam Young’s Crisis


    Phone in hand, I hesitated, stealing a nce at Sweety before asking, “Where are you?”


    “In the old manor.”


    “Got it,” I replied. “I’ll swing by soon. Hang tight, okay?”


    Emily hummed in response.


    I ended the call and faced Sweety, feeling a twinge of guilt. Before I could exin, she scrunched up


    her face and asked, “Yvette, are you ditching me to see someone else again?”


    Her pout was hard to resist, but I managed to say with a suppressed chuckle, “Madam Young’s up and


    craving mushroom soup. Emily can’t cook to save her life, so she asked for my help. Madam Young’s


    family, and she’s in the hospital–I can’t just ignore that.”


    Sweety’s face fell, and she let out a drawn–out ‘ohh‘ before adding, “Emily? Mr. Young’s wife?”


    I nodded, rummaging through my bag for keys.


    “And?” she prodded. “Is she nice? Pretty?”


    I found my keys, looked up, and smiled, “Yeah, she’s a gem–beautiful, kind, smart, and a breeze to get


    along with. What’s with the sudden interest? You’ve never been this nosy.”


    She forced augh and said, “Oh, it’s nothing. I just think Mr. Young is such a charming gentleman, so


    his wife has to be amazing, right? How else could she match up to him?”


    I frowned, puzzled, and asked her, “Just because Liam saved you once, he’s suddenly a hero in your


    eyes?”


    She huffed and dropped the conversation, nudging me along. “Okay, okay, off you go. Don’t make


    them wait.”


    After saying goodbye to Sweety, I headed over to the Youngs Old Manor. Emily was bustling around


    the kitchen with two plump chefs trailing behind her. They watched her every move, exchanging


    nces, itching to lend a hand.


    However, their help was not needed for a simple mushroom soup, which somehow had both chefs


    scratching their heads.


    “Hey, Big Sis,” I greeted Emily.


    At the sound of my voice, Emily spun around, beaming. “Yvette, you made it! I’ve been trying to get


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    this soup right with the chefs, but it just doesn’t taste like yours. I can’t figure out what’s missing.”


    She gestured to the several attempts at mushroom soup on the table.


    I tasted the soups she made, which were pretty good, and then I added a bit of potato starch for


    thickness and a ssh of MSG for a twist.


    I smiled and handed her a spoon. After a tentative sip, she paused, then admitted, “It’s oddly


    delicious.”


    “Grandma’s getting on in years, and her taste buds aren’t as sharp as they used to be. MSG should


    increase the vor so that she’ll taste more of it.” I exined. After finishing, I grabbed a to–go box and


    packed up the mushroom soup I had made.


    Emily gave a soft nod, her expression tender. “I’ve learned a lot. Next time, I can whip it up grandma


    myself, and we won’t have to call you from miles away.”


    for


    I offered a small smile, about to say that grandma could call on me for soup anytime, but then reality hit


    me—I was about to be divorced from Idris, and I could not just drop everything to be with her


    anymore.


    All I could do was smile and walk out with her, making a beeline for the hospital.


    As we reached the hospital corridor, Emily and I were met with the sight of doctors rushing into Madam


    Young’s room. Our hearts skipped a beat, and we hurried over. Mr. Zachary was pacing outside the


    room, a bundle of nerves. “Mr. Zachary, what’s going on with grandma?” I asked urgently.


    He turned to us, his worry etched deep. “She’s coughed up blood, and her blood pressure and sugar


    levels are through the roof.”


    “Coughed up blood? But she was fine when I left,” Emily said, her brow creased with concern. “The


    doctors said she’d be okay if she woke up without getting upset. Did something happen?”


    Mr. Zachary cast a nce over to a corner of the hallway and bit his l*p, staying silent.


    I followed his gaze and saw Moore, cradling her baby bump against the wall, tears streaming down her


    face without a sound. She looked so forlorn that people passing by could not help but shoot her


    sympathetic looks, probably thinking she was a pregnant woman wronged by her family.


    Seeing her like that, my brow furrowed, and I had a hunch about what might have gone down.


    Emily caught sight of Moore too, but she’s never been one to poke her nose into mine and Idris’s


    business. She did not get the whole story, so she turned to Mr. Zachary with a puzzled look and asked,


    “What’s going on?”


    Mr. Zachary took a beat before answering, “Mr. Young brought Ms. Scott to visit Madam Young.


    Whatever they talked about in there got Madam Young so worked up she started coughing up blood.


    She was yelling for Mr. Young to cut ties with Ms. Scott, saying she’d haunt him if he did not, even from


    beyond the grave.”