As Penelope raised her glass, the Sullivans scrambled to raise theirs, the words "profound friendship and affection" making them squirm with guilt.
Penelope’s gaze landed first on Mr. Sullivan. “A toast to you, Mr. Sullivan. If you hadn’t forcefully taken my project and then fired me, I never would have joined KINY Group, and I certainly wouldn't be the director of this project, sitting here tonight.”
Mr. Sullivan’s face fell.
“You’ve misunderstood my intentions. I… I was only doing what was best for you.”
“And blacklisting me from the entire industry—was that also for my own good?”
“I…”
“See? That’s why I’m thanking you.”
The gratitude was so heavy Mr. Sullivan’s hand trembled as he held his glass.
“And to Mrs. Sullivan.” Penelope turned to her.
Mrs. Sullivan, still trying to cling to her authority, snapped, “What is this ‘Mrs. Sullivan’? You should be calling me ‘Mom’!”
“Weren’t you the one demanding Zebulon divorce me?”
“You’re… you’re not divorced yet.”
“But in your heart, you stopped thinking of me as your daughter-in-law a long time ago. In fact, you never did.”
“I…”
“But I still want to toast you,” Penelope continued. “To the three years of constant criticism, cruelty, and insults. Oh, and you were also planning to run me out of Orenth. I don’t think you have the power to do that, though.”
“Penelope, I am your elder! How can you speak to me like that? You—”
“Be quiet!” Mr. Sullivan barked at his wife, cutting her off before she could further antagonize Penelope.
Mrs. Sullivan’s face turned a mottled red and purple, but she swallowed her anger and fell silent.
Penelope’s lips curved into a slight smile as she turned to Rebecca, who immediately swallowed hard.
“Penelope, we… we’re best friends. Even if we’ve had some unpleasantness, I know you won’t hold it against me, right?”
“Of course. We’re ‘best friends,’” Penelope repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
A knot of dread formed in Rebecca’s stomach as Penelope continued, “But why are you sitting over there with them? It’s almost as if you’re on their side.”
“I… I can sit with you.”
Penelope held up a hand, stopping him.
“Let’s toast. To the four of you.” She raised her glass and drained it in one go.
She had laid all their debts out on the table. Now, she would make them pay, one by one.
The four Sullivans, their faces grim, choked down their pride and their wine.
“I invited you all here tonight mainly so you would know who I am,” she said, her eyes sweeping over Zebulon and Rebecca. “That way, you won’t make the mistake of praying at the wrong temple and making fools of yourselves again.” The two of them shrank in their seats, wishing they could disappear.
“Please, enjoy your dinner. I won’t be staying.”
“Penelope, we still need to discuss the contract,” Mr. Sullivan blurted out, swallowing his pride.
Penelope smirked. “You should probably figure out how to get in the door first.”
With that, she turned and walked away, giving him no chance to say another word.
As she disappeared from sight, Mr. Sullivan’s composure finally shattered. He snatched a wine glass from the table and hurled it to the floor.
...

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