Only one person was that generous and that eccentric: the fabulously wealthy Mr. Johnson.
Penelope didn’t bother asking why he was sending her money in the middle of the night; the reason was bound to be bizarre.
She tossed her phone aside and lay back down to sleep.
The next morning, Penelope woke early for a run. When she returned, she found Zebulon sitting at the dining table. He shot her a cold look.
Whose house did he think this was?
“Oh, Penelope, I thought you were still asleep. I didn’t make you any breakfast,” Rebecca said, emerging from the kitchen with two bowls of porridge, her surprise clearly feigned.
“You two enjoy. I’m not hungry,” Penelope said, heading for the stairs.
“Do you remember what I said last night?” Zebulon called after her.
She smirked. Of course, she remembered, crystal clear. The real question was whether he did.
“I’m going to make the KINY Group project a success and prove to you that I’m not a failure.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“The day I sign that contract will be the day we get divorced!”
That was even funnier. They weren’t married; how could they get a divorce?
She ignored him and continued upstairs.
“Penelope, you’re going to regret this!”
Upstairs, Penelope showered and then locked herself in her study. Incorporating Hannah’s advice, she began to redefine the positioning of the KINY Group mall, drafting a new design concept that would complement the overall layout of Zenith’s Shopping Street.
She became so engrossed in her work that she didn’t realize it was dark until her stomach growled ferociously.
Rebecca wasn’t back, so her free housekeeper wasn’t available. She had to order takeout. While she waited, she brainstormed ways to approach Theodore. Returning his jacket was one option, but after last night, he probably wouldn’t even see her.
An idea struck her. She found Michael’s number and gave him a call.
“Mr. Jackson, it’s Penelope.”
“Ms. Laurier! What can I do for you?”
Theodore shot him a glare. “Mind your own business.”
Michael was speechless. This couple’s dynamic was truly something to behold.
Before he could comment further, a group of glamorous women entered their private room. His internal alarms went off, and when one of them made a beeline for Theodore, he quickly intercepted her.
“This one’s off-limits.”
Theodore was a notorious germaphobe when it came to women. Only those who met his impossibly high standards were allowed to touch him.
He lit a cigarette, and just as he put it to his lips, his phone pinged. The woman had sent him a friend request, followed by a cute, spinning emoji.
He wanted to block her, but that would require accepting the request first, so he decided to just ignore it.
Penelope wasn’t too disappointed by the lack of response. Her behavior last night had been outrageous; she couldn’t blame him for not forgiving her yet. But she was persistent. Sooner or later, she would win him over.
Renewed with determination, she felt her motivation surge.
The delivery driver couldn’t get past the main gate, so Penelope had to go out to meet him.

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