The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 334

“Is this project yours?” Penelope asked coolly. “Have you reached an agreement? Signed a contract?”

“This is predatory competition!”

Penelope turned to Mr. Temple. “If you’ve already begun negotiations, PenHan Builders will withdraw.”

Mr. Temple looked both annoyed and amused. “LUNA Group has not had a single formal meeting or even a phone call with Stone Group about this hotel project. In fact, just moments before you arrived, I had already rejected Mr. Sullivan’s proposal.”

“So,” Penelope said, turning back to Ward, “how exactly am I sabotaging your partnership or stealing your project?”

Ward, the president of Stone Group, could feel his dignity crumbling. He slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet. “This hotel is a minor project, far beneath Stone Group’s notice,” he snarled. “I only approached you out of respect for our past collaboration. But since you clearly don’t appreciate the gesture, don’t ever expect to work with Stone Group again!”

Mr. Temple just smiled. “You’re right, our hotel is a small project. I am curious, though, what ‘major’ projects does Stone Group have lined up?”

“We have many. I don’t feel the need to list them for you!”

Penelope arched a brow. “Are you referring to the Zenith Group project?”

“Hmph. I’d advise you not to meddle in your husband’s business, lest you annoy your in-laws,” Ward retorted.

“I’m not meddling. I just wanted to give you a friendly heads-up. Zenith Group has already awarded that contract to another company, so you can stop wasting your energy. Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Sullivan. I’m genuinely just trying to be helpful.”

Ward’s fists clenched. He had suspected this would happen the moment he learned Penelope had married Theodore, but hearing it confirmed was a devastating blow. Stone Group was drowning in debt, and that Zenith project had been their last lifeline. Now, it was gone.

His world was spinning. His son was in prison, banks were calling in their loans, and his wife and mistress were brawling in his hospital room. He had been a powerful man for most of his life, and now he was facing utter ruin. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t!

Just then, a young woman in a white coat entered, carrying a bouquet of flowers. She gracefully sidestepped the brawling women and approached his bed. Ward found her familiar but couldn’t quite place her.

“And you are?”

The woman smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips. “My name is Yvonne Bishop.”

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