The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 237

Penelope glanced over her shoulder, watching Zebulon approach step by step. A small smile played on her lips as she picked up a teacup from the table and casually tossed it.

It shattered on the ground with a sharp crack, and Zebulon immediately froze. That was about as much courage as he had.

“Are you drunk?” Anna hissed, marching over and pinching his lower back, hard.

“Don’t you think her silhouette looks familiar? A lot like… like Penelope?”

“Penelope?” Anna ground her teeth. “Are you so obsessed with her that you see her everywhere?”

“No, I’m serious. Is that her?”

Zebulon stared at the figure in the distance. He was almost certain he wasn’t mistaken, yet he didn’t dare get any closer. If he was wrong and offended the real Mrs. Stapleton, he and the Stone Group would be finished.

Just then, a maid approached.

“Ma’am, your porridge is ready. I’ve placed it in your room.”

“Thank you. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Very good.” The maid then turned to Anna and Zebulon. “Ms. Flores, our mistress isn’t feeling well. Please do not disturb her.”

Anna quickly nodded and started to drag Zebulon away.

“I know I’m not wrong,” he insisted.

“So you think Penelope is Mrs. Stapleton?”

“Of course… of course not!”

“Then what is wrong with you?” Anna took a deep breath and turned back to Penelope. “Mrs. Stapleton, we didn't mean to offend you. Please don't be angry. We’re leaving now.”

With a final glare at Zebulon, Anna walked away.

Zebulon hesitated for a moment. “Mrs. Stapleton, your silhouette is strikingly similar to my wife’s. That’s why I was so forward just now. I apologize.”

He offered his apology and quickly followed Anna.

Penelope rolled her eyes. She knew he wouldn’t have the guts. And calling her his wife? The nerve.

Back in her room, Penelope had a few bites of the porridge, but it was bland. Just then, the tantalizing aroma of grilled meat wafted in from outside, making her mouth water.

She sent a text to Theodore: Honey, what do you think is better, grilled eel or grilled croaker?

Theodore couldn’t help but smile: I agree. A little taste won’t hurt.

Penelope: Might as well throw in a couple of beef tongue skewers. And some lamb and chicken wings.

While the others were deep in serious discussion, Theodore suddenly stood up, walked over to the barbecue, and started grilling.

The conversation halted as everyone turned to stare at him. There he was, in his expensive white shirt and limited-edition watch, standing in a cloud of smoke, grilling skewers.

Hamilton laughed. “If you want barbecue, just have the chef make it. Why are you doing it yourself?”

“I’m making it for my wife,” Theodore replied.

“Well, the chef can make it for her too.”

“She said she wants to taste my cooking.”

Hamilton exchanged a look with Michael and the others, and they all started to tease Theodore.

“We want to taste Mr. Stapleton’s cooking too!”

Theodore answered without missing a beat, “Maybe in your next life.”