The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 117

Penelope stood before the mirror, admiring her reflection. Wow, she thought, I look amazing.

But the mirror reflected more than just her own stunning image. It also showed a furious Mrs. Sullivan, a deceptively sweet-looking Rebecca, and an exasperated Zebulon trying to calm his mother down.

Their arguments, their drama, their misery—it was all music to her ears.

After taking a moment to appreciate the view, she turned to Zebulon. “I want this dress.”

“Done,” Zebulon agreed without hesitation. “We’ll take it.”

As Mrs. Sullivan’s rage and Rebecca’s jealousy intensified, Penelope offered Zebulon a dazzlingly sweet smile. “Zebulon, you’re so good to me!”

Zebulon’s face softened with affection. “I’m your husband. Who else would I be good to?”

“Thank you…” she murmured. She couldn’t bring herself to call him ‘husband’ without wanting to gag.

Penelope happily went to change while Mrs. Sullivan, seething, twisted Zebulon’s arm viciously.

“Do you have any idea how much that dress costs?”

Zebulon winced. “How much can a dress be? As long as she’s happy.”

“Six million!”

“What?”

“Well, you said you’d buy it for her. Go on, pay for it!”

Zebulon’s lips thinned. “I didn’t realize it was that expensive.”

“If she had a tail, it would be pointing straight at the ceiling by now! Six million for a dress? Who does she think she is? Does she deserve it?” Mrs. Sullivan grew angrier with every word.

“Someone gets a six-million-dollar dress, while my child and I are forced to live with others, constantly walking on eggshells,” Rebecca added, her voice dripping with acid.

“Oh, stop your complaining,” Mrs. Sullivan snapped, hearing the undertone clearly.

“One thousand.”

“We’ll take that one!”

“But… that one was from our rental collection. It has an oil stain, so we’re selling it as damaged goods.”

“Damaged goods are all she deserves!” Mrs. Sullivan declared, a smug look of satisfaction on her face.

Zebulon frowned. “Penelope will definitely make a scene.”

“Let her! If she’s not afraid of the embarrassment, then let her make a scene!”

“It’ll be embarrassing for our family too!”

“What embarrassment? I’m not inviting any of our relatives!”

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