Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

Sadie glanced at the simmering pot on the stove, then back at Millie with a puzzled look. "Ms. Millie, the chicken soup isn't ready yet. What are you doing?"

"Just do as I say and stop asking questions," Millie snapped back, her impatience clear.

It didn't matter to her whether the soup was fully cooked or not; Beverley probably wouldn't drink it anyway.

And if she did, all the better. Maybe it would make her sick!

In the hospital room, Millie didn't bother knocking; she just barged in.

"Beverley, I've brought you some chicken soup," she announced, trying her best to sound caring.

Beverley's headache, which had just started to ease, came roaring back at the sight of her. Dizzy and angry, she snapped, "Who asked you to come? I don't want to see you. Get out!"

Millie kept up her façade of sincerity. "Beverley, I'm here to apologize. I was out of line yesterday, and I shouldn't have snapped at you. Look, I made this chicken soup for you this morning. It's still warm, should be good for your health."

Beverley scoffed. "Apologize? That's like a weasel coming to wish the chickens a happy new year. You're the last person I'd accept anything from, let alone your soup."

She was convinced it was tainted!

Despite Beverley's harsh words, Millie's smile never wavered, though inwardly she wished the old lady would just drop dead.

Ignoring Beverley's protests, Millie unscrewed the thermos, poured the soup into a clean bowl, and offered it with both hands. "Beverley, you're being unfair to me. I truly am sorry. This soup took two hours to make. It's very nutritious. Please, have some—" Before she could finish, Beverley's hand shot out, knocking the bowl from her hands.

Then, grabbing a pillow, she hurled it at Millie. "Get out! I don't want your damned soup. Who knows if you've poisoned it? Just leave!"

Millie was swiftly ejected from the room.

Though she managed to dodge the worst of it, her white summer dress, a new design from Dior, was splattered with soup. She frowned, attempting to wipe it off with a tissue, but it was no use. She gave up, thinking of the untouched designer clothes still in her closet. Changing would be simple enough.

Stepping outside, Millie suddenly

remembered something and pulled out her phone. She tried to open a chat with Murray but remembered

she'd been blocked. Her expression

darkened briefly before she sent a text instead, attaching a photo of the soup she'd taken earlier.

[Murray, I visited your mom and sincerely apologized. I'm sorry.] Unsurprisingly, there was no reply.

She shrugged it off, pocketing her phone and leaving the hospital.

As she was about to get into her car, a chilly voice stopped her: "Millie?"Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

Turning around, she saw Hertha.

Her future sister-in-law.

Millie quickly plastered a smile on her face and approached her, "Herth-" Slap!

Hertha didn't waste a word; her slap spoke volumes.

Millie was stunned.

Hertha's chin fifted arrogantly as she retracted her hand. "Consider that a lesson in humility and knowing your place. Who do you think you are? Even my brother doesn't dare talk backto my mom, and you got her hospitalized?"

Holding her cheek, Millie's smile was frozen in place. "How can you hit someone like that?"

"That's for you, you lowlife! Don't think you can act all high and mighty just because you're pregnant. You better hope my mom gets better, or else, you're going to pay dearly."

With that, Hertha walked away, not sparing Millie another glance.

Hertha, a high society princess, never regarded someone like Millie

as more than a bug. Even Roseanne, her brother's ex, had received a

warmer greeting from her. In

Hertha's eyes, Millie was only worthy

of a slap.

Hertha couldn't help but criticize her brother's taste; abandoning Roseanne for someone like Millie was beyond understanding.