Chapter 42

“You chose me, and you mentored me. I respected you for that. I even treated you like a father. But as for arranging my marriage to your son She let out a dry,
humorless laugh.
That wasn’t a kindness; it was a leash. He had been trying to control her from the very beginning. He’d dressed up deception and humiliation as a favor and had the audacity to expect her gratitude.
“You… you Mr. Sullivan was so angry he was sputtering.
“I can delete the video,” she offered calmly.
“Then what are you waiting for? Do it!”
“I want my personal belongings.”
Cornered, Mr. Sullivan had no choice but to agree. But as she turned to leave, he snarled through gritted teeth, “And don’t you ever set foot in Stone Group again!” “You’d do well to remember that yourself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you couldn’t pay me to come back to this dump.”
“You-!”
, The rıghtful source is
Leaving Mr. Sullivan pale with rage, Penelope walked out of his office with a sense of satisfaction. When she got back to the project department, Wilma told her that Rebecca had moved her box of belongings into a back office. She went inside to find Rebecca and Tracy rummaging through her things.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her voice sharp with anger. Rebecca quickly tried to explain. “I know you wouldn’t hide anything, but the CEO wanted to be sure, so Tracy and I are just taking a quick look.”
“And look here,” Tracy said, pulling a notebook from the box. She flipped it open to a random page, saw a list of phone numbers, and assumed it was a log of important client contacts. “Ms. Laurier, you’ll have to leave this behind.”
Penelope glanced at the notebook, frowning slightly. She had tossed it in the box without a second thought, but if she’d been paying more attention, she would have just thrown it straight into the trash.
Rebecca took it from Tracy and scanned a few pages, her expression shifting several times. “Penelope,” she said, feigning reluctance, “maybe it’s best if you just leave the notebook here.”
“Fine by me,” Penelope said. With a swift movement, she snatched the notebook from Rebecca’s hands, marched out to the nearest trash can, and tossed it in. To add insult to injury, she took a photo of it.
“What was that for?” Tracy asked, bewildered.
“Those were love letters my husband wrote me. If you don’t believe me, feel free to fish them out and read them yourself.”
“Penelope, why would you throw away something so precious?” Rebecca asked with faux concern. “If he found out, he’d be furious.”
“Oh, I already sent him the picture.”
“You what?”
Penelope smiled, a deep, knowing smile. “And you’re right. He is furious.”
With that, she picked up her box and left.
She had barely settled into her car when a message from Wilma came through. Apparently, Mr. Sullivan had summoned Rebecca to his office for a scolding. When she came back, she’d fished the notebook out of the trash. Because it was now covered in the dregs of someone’s lunch, she was painstakingly wiping each page clean.
Not only did Rebecca have to clean it, but she was also getting a front-row seat to every love letter Zebulon had ever written to
Penelope. The thought of Rebecca
reading those her anger surely
mounting with every word, made
Penelope laugh out loud.
When Rebecca came home that evening, Penelope greeted her as if nothing had happened.
“Oh my, Rebecca, you’re breaking out around your mouth. What happened?”
Rebecca instinctively covered her lips. “It’s nothing, just a bit of stress.”
“Stress, you say? You should drink more water.”
Rebecca’s cheerful façade was clearly cracking; she ended up ordering takeout for dinner.
Penelope posted a passive-aggressive status on Facebook, and sure enough, a maid showed up a short while later with a delivery of food, sent on Zebulon’s orders.
It had been an incredibly satisfying day, so much so that she found it hard to sleep. Tomorrow, she had to go to Zenith Group to return that shirt. Theodore would almost certainly refuse to see her. She needed a plan.

…