The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 36

With that, Theodore angrily ended the call.

On the other end, Mr. Johnson waited until he was sure the line was dead, then burst out laughing. His son, the man who hadn’t shown a flicker of emotion in years, was angry?

It had to be the daughter-in-law he’d chosen. She clearly knew what she was doing. He wasn’t just going to give her the company; he was going to give her his entire personal fortune too.

When Penelope went to check out, she discovered she had been staying in the presidential suite. When she tried to pay, the receptionist informed her that the room was reserved exclusively for Mr. Stapleton and that there was no charge.

“Mr. Stapleton is…?”

“This is a Zenith Group resort, ma’am. You didn’t know?”

Penelope’s lips formed a thin line. She had not, in fact, known.

“Mr. Stapleton is Mr. Theodore Stapleton.”

Theodore? The president of the Zenith Group? The man she had been trying so desperately to meet?

Penelope simultaneously wished she could travel back in time to slap her drunken self and rushed back to the suite. She got there just before housekeeping and fished her discarded shirt—his shirt—out of the trash can.

She held it up, a wry smile on her face. Well, now she had a perfect excuse to see the heir again. Assuming, of course, that he would agree to see her.

It was afternoon by the time she got back to the Sullivan estate. Her head was still pounding, and all she wanted to do was sleep. But as she walked through the front door, a suitcase landed at her feet.

She looked up, frowning. Mrs. Sullivan was sitting in a chair directly facing the entrance, her arms crossed, her expression furious. The housekeeper, Luna, stood beside her, looking down her nose at Penelope like a stern governess.

“You have the nerve to come back!”

Penelope rubbed her temples, in no mood for a fight. She picked up her suitcase and started for the stairs. Luna blocked her path, snatched the suitcase, and threw it back toward the door.

But she wasn’t going to leave without giving Mrs. Sullivan a parting gift. As she reached the door, she yanked the expensive, antique painting Mrs. Sullivan had bought at auction off the wall and threw it to the floor. Then, she stomped on it several times with her high heels, shattering the frame and tearing the canvas.

“My painting!” Mrs. Sullivan shrieked in horror. “You… you barbarian!”

With Mrs. Sullivan’s enraged screams echoing behind her, Penelope walked out, suitcase in hand, feeling much, much better. She got in her car and drove to a familiar apartment building in the city center. She went upstairs and knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened.

“Penelope? What are you doing here? And… with a suitcase?”

The person who opened the door was Rebecca.

Penelope squeezed out a few tears and threw her arms around her.

“Rebecca,” she sobbed, “they kicked me out. I have nowhere else to go. Can I stay with you?”