The Returned Heiress Who Never Fit In novel Chapter 899

**TITLE: She Took 899**
**Chapter 899: Smash First, Eat Later**

“So, this is where we’ve landed—a housekeeper who requires me to explicitly instruct her on when to prepare meals? She can’t even manage the simplest tasks without my guidance?”

What’s next? If I take a business trip for a few days, will everyone just perish from hunger while waiting for my commands? If Mona wanted to play games, she should’ve at least chosen someone more suitable to target. She really has some audacity.

The housekeeper stood awkwardly to the side, her complexion ashen and her eyes wide with fear. Mona let out a sharp, disdainful snort. “You went through all that trouble to seize control of the family last night, and this is the best you can muster? Making everyone wait around like this?”

Her voice sliced through the air, deliberately harsh and unforgiving.

Holt’s expression darkened, and he shot her a warning glance. After all, Marie was the daughter of the Dawson family—he couldn’t allow Mona to push the envelope too far. The memory of what transpired three years ago still haunted him; he wouldn’t dare to offend the Dawsons again.

Marie crossed her arms defiantly, her posture radiating confidence. “Then don’t wait if you don’t want to.”

“You!” Mona’s face contorted with fury, her eyes blazing.

Gary, ever the instigator, jumped into the fray, adding fuel to the growing fire. “Marie, people should stick to their strengths. Clearly, you aren’t cut out for this role, so why did you fight so hard for it last night?”

“Ha.”

Marie released a short, icy laugh, one that echoed with disdain.

Beside her, Derrick’s expression had already soured. It was painfully evident—Mona and Gary had orchestrated this little drama together, their collaboration transparent and underhanded.

And judging by Holt’s demeanor, he wasn’t exactly innocent either.

He was always an early riser. Did he truly not know what he wanted for breakfast? It would have been so easy for him to inform the staff to take care of it—but no, he chose to sit there, biding his time, merely to facilitate this petty spectacle.

Derrick’s gaze hardened as it fixed on Holt. “Looks like you’re still not over what happened last night.”

“Derrick, it’s not about that,” Mona interjected sharply before Holt could formulate a response. “She’s supposed to be in charge of the family, yet she can’t even manage breakfast. I’ve already prepared the ledgers for her; if she can’t handle something this straightforward, then what’s the point?”

Her tone was venomous, loud, and dripping with contempt.

After Reese’s late-night call for funds, Mona couldn’t afford to care whether Marie was a Dawson or not. She needed to reclaim that control—and quickly.

Reese’s surgery was looming, and she needed cash on hand; this was no time for her finances to be tied up in family squabbles.

Holt remained silent, allowing Mona’s words to linger uncomfortably in the air. Watching her, Derrick clenched his fists, frustration boiling within him. How dare she act like she runs this household when she doesn’t even hold an official position?

He knew arguing further would be futile.

With a determined stride, he turned and made his way downstairs—his long legs moving swiftly, the atmosphere shifting with his every step.

Moments later, a cacophony erupted from the kitchen.

Pots, pans, dishes—everything was hurled to the ground in rapid succession, the sound resonating like a chaotic symphony of destruction.

Then came the resounding thud of something substantial crashing onto the floor, followed by another, and yet another; the noise alone painted a vivid picture of utter chaos.

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