The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 158

Rebecca sighed. “Even though I’m having Zebulon’s baby, I don’t want to ruin your relationship with him.”

Penelope scoffed.

“Can’t we just keep things the way they are?”

“What does that mean?”

Rebecca bit her lip. “The three of us, and the baby. Living together.”

“Ugh.”

Following in Zebulon’s footsteps, Rebecca had managed to make her physically ill. Seeing her reaction, Rebecca frowned.

“Penelope, believe me, I’m the one who’s had to sacrifice the most in this situation.”

“You really have an inflated sense of self-worth,” Penelope said coldly.

“Don’t be so self-righteous, Penelope. You think you’re so great? In the Sullivans’ eyes, you’re nothing. You…”

Penelope pulled out her phone and hit play on the recording she’d made in the parking garage.

Zebulon’s voice filled the room: “…I love you. That’s undeniable… She is simply a tool to give us a child… I’ll give her a sum of money and she will disappear from our lives… You can treat this child as your own, have it call you ‘Mom’…”

As the recording played, Rebecca’s face went through a series of transformations, as if she were being slapped repeatedly. It went from pale to flushed to utterly twisted with rage.

“No! He can’t do this to me!”

Mrs. Winters, emerging from the kitchen, heard the recording as well. “Zebulon! So that’s what he was planning! I knew that bastard couldn’t be trusted!”

“It must be you! You made him say that!” Rebecca shrieked, turning on Penelope.

Penelope shrugged. “Trying to frame me again?”

“Penelope, Zebulon can’t treat Rebecca this way! You have to make him take responsibility for her! You have to take responsibility…”

“You old hag! I am done being nice!”

Penelope snatched a vase from the entryway table and swung it at Mrs. Winters’s head.

Terrified, Mrs. Winters stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the blow. “You… you’re crazy!”

She was crazy, and it felt fantastic.

“Stay away from me from now on, or else…”

She lifted the vase and smashed it on the floor at their feet. The porcelain shattered, sending shards flying. A few pieces nicked their legs and feet, and they both cried out in pain.

“You’re trying to kill us! We’re… we’re calling the police…”

“Please do,” Penelope said, her voice dangerously calm. “It would be the perfect opportunity to tell everyone what you’ve done. Then we’ll see who’s too ashamed to show their face in public.”

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