The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 820

Watching their retreating figures, a suffocating knot of anxiety tightened in Penelope's chest.

Inside, Heather hurried out of the kitchen with an expectant smile, only to falter when she saw Penelope and the kids without Theodore.

"Where is Mr. Stapleton?" she asked.

Penelope sent the boys upstairs to shower before turning her full attention to Heather.

"My husband and I have an incredibly strong relationship. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Penelope's voice was deadly calm.

She was genuinely trying to give Heather a peaceful warning. Whatever her twisted motive was for approaching Theodore, she needed to walk away before she completely destroyed her own dignity.

"Is that right? I don't see it," Heather replied, staring Penelope down.

Penelope scoffed. "And what exactly do you see?"

"You're divorced, and you haven't remarried. That proves your relationship is flawed, and it's certainly not bulletproof. As long as there's a crack, I have a chance."

"I seriously doubt my husband has done anything to give you the delusion that you have a chance."

"All men stray. Mr. Stapleton is no exception."

"You..."

"I really am sorry to step on your toes, Ms. Laurier, but an apology is all you'll get. I am fully confident that I can win Mr. Stapleton over." With that delusional declaration, Heather turned on her heel and marched back into the kitchen.

She stopped at the doorway and tossed one last comment over her shoulder. "I made a plate for you tonight, Ms. Laurier. You're welcome."

Penelope was utterly dumbfounded. She couldn't comprehend how someone could openly admit to being a homewrecker and still carry on with such shameless arrogance.

Why on earth had Theodore invited these psychos into their lives?

"Officer Hammond, does the suspect's last name happen to be Haynes?"

Five minutes later, Penelope was sprinting frantically down the shoreline. In the distance, she saw Heath collapsed in the sand, clutching his chest and letting out agonizing groans. Theodore stood over him like a grim reaper, watching coldly.

His eyes were pitch black, locked onto the dying boy.

"Please... don't save me... let me die..."

Despite the excruciating pain, Heath was begging Theodore not to intervene. In his darkest agony, his face twisted into an expression of euphoric relief.

"I'm finally dying... I get to die..."

But if he was the one keeping Norton's stolen heart beating, he absolutely could not die yet.

Driven by pure adrenaline, Penelope threw herself onto the sand and desperately began performing CPR to revive him.