?<strong>Chapter 191:</strong>


    Belinda exhaled slowly. Her voice softened as she said, “Alright. Thanks for telling me this, Paulette.”


    “You’re wee,” Paulette replied, her tone lighter now.


    “I’ll let you get back to work.”


    “Okay.” Belinda ended the call, but the tension in her body lingered. She gripped her phone tightly, her mind a storm of anger.


    Madonna! That woman had really crossed a line this time! Belinda understood this perfectly—this wasn’t just an attack on her mother; Madonna had targeted her mother to get back at her. Unable to confront her directly, Madonna had taken her anger out on her mother instead.


    When Belinda thought about the humiliation Holley had suffered today, a sh of darkness crossed her eyes. At the same time, she hadn’t expected Holley to have refused Madonna. She had assumed that to tter Madonna, Holley would agree without hesitation and thene to plead with her.


    But Holley hadn’t done that.


    At that moment, aplicated mix of emotions swirled in Belinda’s chest. She didn’t know how to feel about this. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.


    Then, with sharp determination in her eyes, she pulled out her phone and made a call.


    In a cozy private room of a coffee shop, the door clicked open. Madonna entered, her designer handbag swinging from her arm, her every movement oozing arrogance. She settled onto the plush sofa and looked at Belinda, who was seated across from her.


    With a smirk, she said sarcastically, “At this hour, instead of inviting me to dinner, you asked me to have coffee with you? How charming.”


    Belinda’s face remained impassive. She believed the sight of Madonna’s face alone was enough to ruin her appetite.


    She began, her voice calm and measured, “I heard about what happened at lunch today.”


    Madonna’s smirk deepened into a sneer. “Oh, really? What do you want to do about that? Are you here to defend your pathetic mother who is a shameless mistress?”


    Leaning back on the sofa, Madonna crossed her legs and folded her arms, her gaze dripping with contempt. “Go ahead, Belinda. Show me what you’ve got then.”


    A knock interrupted the tense moment as a waiter stepped in, cing a steaming cup of coffee in front of Belinda before leaving the room.


    Belinda rose slowly, picking up the cup of coffee with a calm demeanor. Without a word, she raised the cup over Madonna’s head. And with a flick of her wrist…


    The coffee inside the cup cascaded down, soaking Madonna’s head.


    Madonna froze, her face contorting with disbelief. “Ahhh!” Her scream tore through the room as she shot up from the sofa.


    “Belinda! How dare you do that to me?” Her voice cracked with fury. “You bitch! Are you out of your mind?”


    Disheveled and furious, Madonna stood with her hair in disarray, her makeuppletely ruined, and coffee dripping down her face. Her manicured poise was gone, and her expression twisted into a mask of rage.


    Belinda, calm andposed, ced the coffee cup on the table and picked up a napkin. She cleaned her fingers with a graceful air, her lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.


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