The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 67

With her mind made up, Rebecca pressed on, her voice filled with mock sympathy.

“Penelope, doesn’t it hurt you to lie to us like this?”

Mrs. Sullivan’s mind raced, and she quickly jumped on board. “We’re not fools,” she scoffed. “You can’t deceive us that easily.” She nudged Zebulon. “You’re not actually buying this, are you?”

Zebulon stared at Penelope, willing her to give him an explanation.

But Penelope simply picked up her wine glass, swirling the red liquid, showing no intention of defending herself.

Her silence infuriated him. “Penelope, doesn’t our relationship mean enough for you to at least explain?”

She laughed, a short, bitter sound. “Honestly? No.”

“So you did cheat!”

“Hold on, Mr. Sullivan,” Nathan interjected, his tone sharp. “When you accuse Ms. Laurier of cheating, you’re accusing me as well. I don’t care what Ms. Laurier’s position is, but I will not stand for it.”

“Mr. Reed, perhaps you were simply tempted for a moment. We understand, men will be men,” Rebecca said, trying to salvage the situation. She wanted to solidify Penelope’s guilt and push Zebulon to break up with her, but she couldn’t afford to offend Nathan; the KINY Group project was still on the line.

“That’s right,” Mrs. Sullivan added quickly. “It must have been this little tramp who seduced you, Mr. Reed. This really has nothing to do with you.”

A sudden burst of laughter came from Mrs. Reed.

“When you people spread rumors, do you just close your eyes and hope for the best? Are you afraid you might accidentally see the truth?”

“Who do you think you are? This is none of your business!” Rebecca snapped.

“Who am I?” Mrs. Reed chuckled again. “Rebecca, you really do have a short memory. You don’t even recognize me.”

Rebecca froze, studying the woman’s face more closely. A flicker of recognition crossed her features.

The words were another vicious slap, and Rebecca’s face turned crimson.

“Why did you have to visit at night? You can’t blame us for getting the wrong idea,” Mrs. Sullivan grumbled, trying to salvage a shred of dignity.

“You’re right, I was in a rush,” Penelope said with a theatrical sigh. “Hannah has been making a name for herself abroad these past few years. She just won the famous Architecture Prize, and her schedule is incredibly tight. I was afraid if I waited, I’d miss my chance to see her.”

“Hmph. Is she really that important?”

“She was to me. I was hoping to ask her to take a look at the design drafts to see if she could spot the problem, but…”

At the mention of this, Mrs. Sullivan’s eyes lit up.

“Well then, we’d be so grateful for your help, Mrs. Reed.”