?<strong>Chapter 189:</strong>


    Baker frowned and said, “We have servants here for that. Why should Holley have to do it?”


    “No, Baker, it’s fine. I’ll go,” Holley said, reassuring him gently.


    She then excused herself and went to the kitchen.


    It was clear to Holley that Madonna was using this errand to express her displeasure.


    Holley soon returned, setting a bowl of soup down in front of Madonna.


    As Madonna touched the bowl, she quickly pulled back her hand, wincing in pain.


    Furious, she eximed, “Holley! This is too hot! Are you trying to hurt me?”


    Holley felt a surge of resignation. She knew clearly that the bowl of soup was not hot. She had made sure of it herself—it wasfortably warm, definitely not hot enough to hurt anyone.


    Holley bit her lip before carefully responding, “I tested it myself—it’s not too hot.”


    Madonna’s eyes narrowed as she retorted sharply, “What are you trying to imply here? That I’m making this up to target you?”


    Though it seemed obvious, Holley kept herposure. She took a deep breath and asked, “What would you like me to do then?”


    “What do I want?” A sinister smile crept over Madonna’s face as sheughed coldly.


    Just then…


    Madonna reached out, grabbed the bowl, and flipped it onto Holley’s head. The soup poured over her, soaking her hair and shoulders.


    A wicked sneer curled across Madonna’s lips as she taunted, “Well? Do you know whether it’s hot or not now?” The dining room fell silent. Everyone froze, stunned by Madonna’s shocking disy of cruelty.


    For a long moment, no one moved or spoke, struggling to process what had just happened. After a while, Holley blinked, her trembling hand reaching up to touch her soiled hair. Anger and disbelief warred on her face as she stammered, “How… How could you do this to me?”


    Madonna set the bowl down with deliberate force and shot her a withering re. “Why are you staring at me like that? What? Do you want to hit me now?”


    “Madonna, you’ve gone too far this time!” Baker’s chair scraped loudly as he shot to his feet, his voice sharp with fury. He quickly strode over to Holley, gently wiping the soup from her hair with a tissue. His expression darkened.


    Turning to Madonna, he demanded, “How is this hot? It’s barely warm!”


    Madonna folded her arms, unfazed. “I think it’s hot. What are you going to do about it?”


    Baker’s jaw clenched as he said, “Apologize to Holley. Now.”


    Madonna let out a mockingugh, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Apologize? To her? Have you lost your mind, Baker, or do you think I have? You want me to apologize to a mistress? How ridiculous! I would never do that!”


    Baker’s face hardened, his voice low and dangerous. “Stop it, Madonna! Enough with the nonsense.”


    But Madonna stood her ground, her posture defiant. “Nonsense? Oh, so now the truth is nonsense? Holley knew you were married, and she still had your child behind everyone’s back.”


    And now, here she is, acting like she belongs in this house! Car tolerates her because she’s too kind for her own good, but that doesn’t make Holley’s behavior any less shameful.


    .


    .


    .