Chapter 78
Penelope pov
What a day.
55 vouchers
Penelope sat in her office, fingers drumming on the polished mahogany desk as she reviewed the one of the reports spread out in front of her. The numbers were good, better than she’d expected, but that didn’t ease the constant knot of frustration that lived in her chest.
This office was on a different floor from Marcus’s, deliberately chosen so she wouldn’t have to see his face on a daily basis. There was no way on earth she wanted to run into her stepson more than absolutely
necessary.
Every interaction with him was a reminder of everything she still didn’t have, everything that should have been hers by now.
She closed the last folder with more force than necessary and checked her watch. Five thirty. Late enough to leave without looking like she was slacking, early enough to beat most of the evening traffic.
Penelope stood, smoothing down her designer skirt and grabbing her Hermès bag from the credenza behind her desk. She walked out of her office with her head high, nodding curtly at her assistant as she passed.
The elevator ride down felt longer than usual. Penelope stared at her reflection in the polished steel doors, checking her appearance out of habit. Hair perfectly styled, makeup flawless, outfit expensive enough to command respect but professional enough to maintain authority. She looked exactly like what she was: a woman who belonged at the top.
The elevator dinged softly as it reached the ground floor. The doors opened.
And immediately, Penelope heard noise. Loud voices coming from the reception area, the kind of commotion that didn’t belong in a building like this. She quickened her pace, her pencil mouthed heels. clicking and making noise at every step she took against the marble floors.
When she got closer, she saw them.
Marcus, standing rigid with his arms crossed. Elara beside him, looking smaller than usual, her face flushed with what looked like embarrassment. And a man, clearly drunk, swaying left and right as he gestured wildly with his hands.
A drunkard. In Thorne Dynamics. In her building. What’s happening.
Penelope moved closer, careful to stay just out of their direct line of sight. She wanted to hear this before making her presence known.
That’s when Marcus’s voice cut through the noise, loud and sharp with anger.
“One million? Dollars or which currency?”
Penelope’s eyebrows rose. One million?
“Are you out of your mind?” Marcus continued, his voice dripping with anger. “I don’t want to insult you,
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Chapter 78
EB 55 yeucte
but please don’t force me to. You’re not getting a dime from me. The person I regard as family, which is her mum, I’ve seen her and she’s aware I married her daughter. I don’t know you. She doesn’t regard you.”
The drunk man lurched forward suddenly, charging toward Marcus with surprising speed for someone in his condition. But the security guards were faster, intercepting him before he could get within arm’s reach.
“I’ll show you!” the man was shouting now, his face red with rage and alcohol. “I’ll teach you a lesson! Don’t worry!”
“You’re not getting a dime from this place, sir,” Marcus said coldly. “Security, throw him out please. Elara, let’s go.”
He grabbed Elara’s hand and started walking toward the private elevator. They passed right by Penelope without greeting her, without even acknowledging her presence. Like she was invisible. Like she was nothing.
Penelope felt that familiar anger spike in her chest, but she pushed it down. There were more important things to focus on right now.
She walked outside, following at a distance as the security guards forcibly escorted the drunk man through the lobby and out the front entrance. She watched through the glass doors as they literally threw him onto the sidewalk beyond the gate, then locked it behind him.
That’s when it dawned on her.
The popular saying flashed through her mind: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Marcus and Elara’s enemy could be her greatest ally. This drunk, angry man who clearly had a grudge and no loyalty to either of them was exactly what she needed.
Someone desperate enough to be manipulated, angry enough to be useful, and drunk enough to not ask too many questions.
Penelope turned and hurried toward the parking garage, her mind already working through possibilities. By the time she reached her car, a sleek black Bentley with gold interior, she had the beginnings of a plan.
She started the engine and pulled out slowly. The security guard at the garage entrance opened the gate for her immediately, recognizing her car. She gave him a curt nod and drove out onto the street.
And there he was.
The drunk man was walking down the sidewalk, his gait unsteady, his shoulders slumped. He looked defeated and tired, like someone who’d just had their last hope crushed.
Perfect.
Penelope pulled up alongside him and rolled down her window.
“Excuse me, sir?”
The man stopped, turning to look at her with bloodshot, suspicious eyes.
Penelope put on her most sympathetic smile, the one she’d perfected over years of attending corporate meetings and social events. “I’m Marcus’s stepmother. I couldn’t help but overhear what happened there.
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Chapter 78
55 vinchers.
What’s wrong? Who are you? And what issues do you have with my stepson? Maybe I can be of help.”
Luca stopped completely now, studying her face like he was trying to determine if this was some kind of
trick.
“Well,” he said slowly, his words still slurred but his attention suddenly focused. “I’m Elara’s father. I came here for my rightful share of him marrying my daughter. They’re refusing to help me and give me what I deserve.”
Just hearing those words made Penelope want to laugh out loud. She didn’t, of course. She kept that sympathetic expression fixed on her face, nodding like she completely understood his position.
But inside? Inside she was screaming with joy.
Jackpot. Finally, finally something that could work for her. A weapon she could use against Marcus and his little wife.
“That’s terrible,” Penelope said, her voice filled with false concern and sympathy. “That’s really terrible. You know what? I think I can help you. If you’ll help me out too.”
Luca’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes, really. But first I need to know something.” Penelope leaned closer to the window, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “How much do you hate your daughter?”
Luca’s face twisted, something dark and ugly passing across his features. He didn’t even hesitate.
“Well, one thousand percent.”
Penelope smiled then, a real smile this time. She snapped her fingers once, the sound sharp in the evening
air.
“Good. Very good.” She reached into her bag and pulled out one of her business cards, the expensive ones with embossed lettering. Then she grabbed her wallet and counted out five hundred dollars in crisp bills.
“Take my card,” she said, holding both out through the window. “And this five hundred dollars. Clean yourself up well and give me a call tomorrow. Let’s see how I can help you get what you deserve.”
