The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 627

Penelope found herself an unwilling witness to a soap opera of a fiancé-and-fiancée slapping match. It was certainly dramatic, but she couldn't for the life of her understand the logic of these two.

Why on earth would Yvonne want to marry Marico? His terrible reputation was common knowledge. She was just asking for trouble.

And Marico—if he was so desperate for a piece of the Stapleton family fortune, all he had to do was clean up his act and work for it. Instead, he chose to marry Yvonne, a woman he clearly despised.

Neither of them had a moral compass to speak of. She wouldn't even start on Yvonne's past deeds. As for Marico, he was pure scum.

Yvonne clutched her face, seething with rage and tears streaming down her cheeks, but Marico couldn't have cared less. In the end, all she could do was stomp her foot in frustration and leave.

Marico scoffed and only noticed Penelope when he turned around. A sly grin spread across his face.

“She’s your sister, isn’t she? Aren’t you going to defend her after seeing me hit her?”

Penelope quickly waved her hands, stepping aside to give him a wide berth. “Well… you’re not someone I want to cross.”

Marico’s eyes darkened slightly. “I can be very gentle with beautiful women.”

“That’s reassuring to know, but I still think it’s best if I keep my distance.”

“Ha,” Marico laughed. “You’re an interesting one.”

“Thanks. Good night, and goodbye.”

With that, Penelope hurried away.

The smart thing to do with someone like Marico was to stay as far away as possible to avoid getting into trouble with no one to turn to.

Having gotten no leads from Marico, Penelope went home and started calling the numbers from the call log one by one. If the person on the other end didn't sound suspicious, she’d just say she'd dialed the wrong number. After a dozen or so calls, a man who was clearly drunk answered the phone.

“Who is this? It’s the middle of the night, dammit!”

The voice was familiar, but Penelope couldn’t quite place it.

“I have a package for you and just wanted to confirm your identity. May I have your last name, please?”

“I didn’t order any damn package!”

Penelope walked over, picked a stool that looked relatively clean, and sat down across from him.

“Jack, we meet again.”

Jack looked up, staring at her for a long moment before recognition dawned.

“Mrs. Stapleton? No, wait, you and Theodore are divorced. How… how did you find me here?”

He was obviously drunk, unable to connect her with the phone call he'd just received.

“My father was in a car accident. You heard about that, right?”

At the mention of this, Jack’s eyes darted nervously. “How… how would I know about that!”

“You called him a few days before the accident. What did you say to him?”

“I… I didn’t call him! We’re not even acquaintances!”