Facade of Love (Yvette Scott and Idris Young)
Chapter 183

Chapter 183 Gaining Sympathy

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Moore had attempted suicide?

Everyone was stunned for a moment. Sweety was the first to speak, her disbelief evident. "Moore attempted suicide? She would do that? That's crazy."

I pursed my l*ps, composed myself, and said to Charles, "If Idris isn't at the company, he's probably at the hospital. Maybe check Madam Young's room. He might be talking with her and set his phone to silent."

Charles nodded and went to Madam Young's room.

After saying goodbye to us, Zoe followed him.

With them gone, Sweety turned to me and asked, "Should we go and see?"

I shook my head. As the elevator arrived, I helped her in.

Seeing my composed demeanor, Sweety hesitated before asking, "Yvette, do you think Moore really attempted suicide?"

I shook my head, my expression neutral. "I don't know."

She continued, "Why would she attempt suicide? It doesn't seem like her." Then, as if a lightbulb went off, she said, "Right, it can't be a suicide attempt. She must be playing the victim, trying to gain sympathy from the Youngs' family to make her way in."

I did not respond. As we reached our floor, I helped her out of the elevator. Noticing my silence, Sweety whispered, "Yvette, do you think Idris will soften?"

I suddenly stopped and looked at her. She was taken aback. "What's... what's wrong?"

"I'm divorced from him. His matters don't concern me," I said, then continued guiding her out.

"I..." She choked for a moment, then sighed. "Okay, I was just curious and wanted to gossip. If you don't like it, I won't talk about it."

I smiled faintly and glanced at her. "You've been posting beautiful photos and showing off literary skills on social media lately. What's up? Got someone you like?"

your

She paused, looking guilty as she hobbled toward the car. "Did you think posting beautiful photos means I have someone I like? Can't I just admire myself?"

As I followed her and helped her into the car, then took my place in the driver's seat and started the car, I said lightly, "There's nothing wrong with having someone you like, as long as it's reasonable, emotional and legal. After all, I've been married and divorced, and Mr. Taters is probably urging you to get married."

She looked out the window, her expression hidden from me. All I heard was her faint response, "Who can be clear about liking someone? Besides, you know I don't want to get married. I'll stick to my Chapter 183 Gaining Sympathy

usual, dating without marriage, enjoying myself without responsibility."

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Regarding her views on love, I did not comment and simply said, "Enjoy dating, but make sure not to hurt anyone. You don't want to cause trouble."

She hummed in agreement. "Got it. What trouble could there be? Who says only men can flirt around without commitment? Hmph, I'm the same. I can see all the handsome men I want, but I'm not getting married. Whoever wants to should just go ahead and do it, but I won't."

I laughed, helplessly saying, "Don't give me your skewed logic. I just want to remind you, it's fine to like handsome men, but just keep your boundaries. And don't think I don't know that despite all your talk over the years, you haven't really dated anyone."

Having grown up together, I knew her pretty well. Over the years, she had always been vocal about handsome guys, claiming to have 'slept with them' hundreds of times in her mind, but in reality, she

had not even held a man's hand before.

She chuckled but did not respond.

Back at the apartment, as it was getting late and Sweety had hurt her foot, making it inconvenient to go out for dinner, I started looking around the house. Discovering her fridge was almost empty, I assumed she had not cooked at home for a few days.

Reluctantly, I told her to wait at home while I went to the nearby store to buy some groceries.

She nodded, preoccupied with her phone, not even lifting her head as I observed her. Seeing her like this, I shook my head helplessly and walked out the door.

Sweety's apartment was in the city center, surrounded by the hustle and bustle. In Lake City, night fell late. Though it was almost five or six o'clock, there was still a bit of twilight. I headed straight to the store, grabbed a cart, and went to the vegetable section.

Shopping for the necessary items, I picked out vegetables and seasonings for dinner. Then, I moved to the fruit section, planning to buy some fruits to make juice.

As I was selecting oranges, a voice suddenly came from beside me. "Ms. Scott.'

I turned to look and saw Inch standing nearby with an apple in his hand, accompanied by a woman who looked haggard and slightly frail, appearing to be in her late forties or early fifties. Her features bore a striking resemblance to Inch's.

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