The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 24

Penelope’s performance was so moving she even pulled out a tissue to dab at her eyes. While doing so, she snuck a peek at the Sullivans. Every face was a mottled canvas of red and green. Rebecca’s, however, was as white as a sheet.

Penelope had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“What is all this nonsense?” Mr. Sullivan boomed, slamming the empty whiskey glass back on the table. He stood up, his face contorted in fury. “Zebulon, your taste in women gets worse and worse!”

With that, he stormed upstairs.

Penelope turned to her husband with a look of pure innocence. “Darling, what did Dad mean by that?”

Zebulon rubbed his forehead. “Nothing. Don’t overthink it.”

Rebecca tried to defend herself. “Don’t listen to her ramblings! That man and I, we…”

“I wasn't rambling,” Penelope retorted sharply. “Every word was the truth.”

“Penelope, do you have to humiliate me like this?”

“I was defending you! How can you misunderstand my intentions so badly?”

“Penelope…”

Before Rebecca could say more, Penelope threw down her napkin and stormed upstairs as well, feigning her own fit of anger.

Once she reached the landing, however, she peeked back down. Mrs. Sullivan was marching out of the dining room, her face a black mask of fury. Rebecca trailed behind, trying to explain about Keith, but the more she explained, the darker Mrs. Sullivan’s expression became.

“That’s enough. I have no interest in hearing about you and your ex-boyfriend.”

“But I…”

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Zebulon, you can see her out.”

A snort of laughter escaped Penelope’s lips. She quickly clamped a hand over her mouth and scurried back to her bedroom, locking the door before letting loose a full-throated laugh.

The grand dinner Mrs. Sullivan had so carefully prepared had been ruined. No one had managed more than a few bites. Except for her. She was full.

“You… you march right back to that office and return the bonus.”

Penelope flashed her a brilliant smile. “Not in a million years.”

As Mrs. Sullivan’s face turned a familiar shade of angry purple, Penelope turned on her heel and walked out, her mood significantly improved.

The doctor Mr. Johnson had recommended was located in a narrow alley in the old part of the city. After a long search, she finally found a dilapidated storefront with a sign so faded the words were illegible.

This was where Mr. Johnson’s supposed “miracle worker” practiced? Had he been scammed? The place looked like it was about to collapse.

But since she was already here, she might as well take a look.

With a look of distaste, she pushed open the creaky door. Inside the dusty, cluttered room sat a man immaculately dressed in a tailored suit, engrossed in a file. The faint light filtering through the grimy windowpane seemed to illuminate only him, casting everything else into shadow.

Just then, he looked up. His features were so perfectly sculpted, so stunningly handsome, that words like ‘ethereal’ and ‘divine’ suddenly seemed inadequate.

Penelope let out a silent ‘wow.’ It was simply unfair for a man to be that good-looking.