The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 48

The rain seemed to bring a sudden chill, and Penelope felt cold, so incredibly cold. She longed for warmth, for comfort. Without realizing it, she had driven to the Sullivan estate, the place she once called home.

She got out of the car and walked unsteadily toward the house, but stopped when she saw them through the window. The people she once considered family were gathered around the dining table, laughing and smiling. The source of their joy was an ultrasound photo.

Mr. Sullivan, his usual stern expression gone, beamed at the small image. Mrs. Sullivan leaned in, pointing to the tiny speck and proudly declaring it the Sullivan family heir. Zebulon was ecstatic. He, who rarely drank at home, poured himself a full glass of wine and downed it in one go. Still giddy, he turned and hugged Rebecca, thanking her again and again.

And Rebecca sat in the chair that used to be Penelope’s, looking so comfortable, as if she had always belonged there.

A bitter laugh escaped Penelope’s lips. There was no place for her in this home. Perhaps there never had been.

They had deceived her in the cruelest, most disgusting way possible. She had to make them pay. She had to…

But as she took a single step forward, she collapsed to the ground. The heavy rain beat down on her, and their laughter from inside seemed to add to the weight, crushing her. She had no energy left to fight, to scream. All she could do was escape.

She stumbled back to her car and drove away, back onto the streets, with nowhere to go. The cars around her moved with purpose, all heading home. But she had no home.

Just then, her phone rang.

It rang and rang before she finally noticed it, pulling it out with a sense of detachment.

“Sweetheart, where are you? Send me your address, quick!”

It was Mr. Johnson, his voice as energetic as ever.

“What for?” she asked, her own voice barely a whisper.

“It’s the first day of autumn! I have to get you the season’s first cup of coffee.”

Penelope was still in a daze when she arrived and rang the doorbell.

The door opened almost immediately, revealing Mr. Johnson himself. He saw her, soaked to the bone and looking utterly broken, and his face filled with alarm. “My dear girl, what happened? Are you alright?”

Penelope shook her head, trying to smile, but her face felt frozen.

Mr. Johnson quickly pulled her inside. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Whatever it is, I’ll handle it for you. And if I can’t, my son can. He’s brilliant. There’s never been a problem he couldn’t solve.”

His words were like a jolt of strength, surging through her. No one had ever said that to her before: Whatever it is, I’ll handle it for you.

As the door to the Johnson mansion closed behind her, she was finally enveloped in warmth.

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