The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 88

“You… you can’t do this.”

“This is how I operate. You keep me happy, and that design of yours won’t need a single change. I’ll push it through myself. But if you displease me… Hmph, you can forget about this project entirely.”

Zebulon’s face was a mixture of green and red. “What do you take me for?”

“I take you for a man, darling. Why else would I be taking advantage of you?”

The woman was brazen, groping him again.

It was too much to watch. The con artist wasn’t just after money and meals; she was after sex, too.

Penelope was about to take another look when she heard footsteps. She quickly ducked around the other side of the changing rooms.

It was Rebecca, walking over with a smile on her face. When she reached the doorway and heard two voices inside, her smile froze. Then, she heard the con woman’s lewd propositions, and her face turned a sickly shade of green.

“Get your hands off my husband!”

Rebecca stormed into the room, screaming at the woman.

“Your husband? He has a wife. That makes you the other woman, at best!”

“We have a certificate! We’re the real married couple! You old hag, how dare you touch my husband! I’ll kill you!”

“You lay a hand on me, and you can kiss your company’s partnership goodbye!”

“Screw you, you old witch!”

“How dare you call me old!”

A crash echoed from inside, followed by a series of thumps and shouts. It was clear they were fighting.

Penelope peeked out again just as the two of them stumbled out of the changing room, one pulling hair, the other clawing at a face.

The commotion quickly drew a crowd of onlookers. Unable to bear the humiliation, Zebulon, who had managed to get dressed inside, covered his face and scurried away, abandoning Rebecca to the brawl.

Penelope had more important things to do. After watching the spectacle for another minute, she left, though not without making a quick, anonymous call to security.

She rushed back to her room and this time, finally caught Theodore.

Harold had told her he was changing before another meeting, after which he was heading straight back to the city.

“Exactly. If I, after researching your project, still have that misconception, what about everyone else? Established owners will mistake you for an incubator, and entrepreneurs will wonder why they should choose your building over a dedicated incubator with more resources.”

Theodore paused. It was an angle they had overlooked.

“So I propose a new slogan. Not ‘An Office of One,’ but ‘A Space of Your Own.’”

A slow smile spread across Theodore’s face. He finally understood why Mr. Johnson had chosen her.

“Next Monday. Bring your proposal. I’ll clear my morning for you.”

Penelope fastened the last button and smiled. “Then it’s a date. See you Monday.”

In that moment, she was the picture of a confident, successful woman—or so she thought, until Theodore started undoing the very buttons she had just fastened.

“What are you doing?”

He grunted. “You didn’t notice they’re all misaligned?”

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