The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 302

“Penelope, you were filthy, you were trash, but Zebulon still wanted you. For that alone, you should be grateful! He never told me any of this, or I would have never let you marry into the Sullivan family and stink up our name!”

“He’s lying!” Penelope shouted.

“There’s no smoke without fire. You’re no saint yourself!”

“Oh, there’s so much more,” Rebecca said, emerging from the dining room with a smirk. “She told me all sorts of stories. The one I remember best is when she and her mother had just gotten out of… well, you know… and had nowhere to go. They were sleeping under an overpass, starving. A kind old woman gave them a piece of bread, but a stray dog snatched it. Her mother actually chased the dog, trying to get the bread back! Can you imagine? Fighting a dog over a scrap of bread!”

Rebecca doubled over with laughter.

Penelope’s eyes burned red. Those were the deepest wounds of her heart. She had shared them because she once thought of these people as family, as friends, hoping for comfort. Now they were using her pain as a weapon.

“You’re kidding!” Mrs. Sullivan cackled.

“And guess what happened next?” Rebecca continued, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. “That same night, a homeless man from across the way bought a night with her mother for a packet of instant ramen. And she just sat there and watched!”

“Rebecca, you’re a liar! That never happened!” Penelope had told them things about her past, but never that. It was a complete fabrication.

Rebecca shrugged. “As your best friend, if I say you told me, who are people going to believe? Me, or the person trying to save face?”

“It probably happened,” Mrs. Sullivan said with a wicked grin. “And even if it didn’t, we can make it sound real. We can come up with a dozen different versions. All we need is a voice to spread the story.”

Penelope stared at these people—no, these monsters. They didn’t deserve to be called human.

Penelope nodded slowly, her gaze shifting to Zebulon. “And you? What do you want?”

Zebulon had clearly prepared for this. “You’re the one who broke up with me, so I want compensation for emotional damages.”

Emotional damages? From her?

Penelope let out a dry laugh. “And how much would that be?”

“One hundred million.”

She was so stunned she had to laugh. “So I’m your personal genie now, am I? Here to grant all your wishes?”