Revenge is My Love Language novel Chapter 13

Ms. Penelope Sterling’s timing really was a little too convenient, wasn’t it?

The weight of everyone’s stare made Penelope itch with discomfort.

She silently cursed Anastasia for putting her in this position, but forced a brittle smile and did her best to explain, “It was when Juliet visited—my cousin, you know—she wanted to see it, so I went into your room and took it out for her. Then I forgot to put it back… and, well, time just slipped away, I guess.”

Juliet was Anastasia’s uncle’s daughter, a distant enough relation to make the excuse plausible.

“Oh, is that so?” Anastasia’s smile was frosty. “Well, Penelope, I’d appreciate it if you returned my things now. And by the way, that’s my mother’s keepsake. It’s valuable, and next time, please don’t touch it without asking. Otherwise, someone might get the wrong idea and think you were trying to steal it.”

Penelope’s smile froze on her lips. She clenched her jaw. “...Fine. I’ll go look for it.”

It didn’t take long to find. She handed Anastasia a small locked box—the journal was inside.

Anastasia could tell at a glance: Penelope had stolen it, but all this time, she hadn’t managed to crack the code.

She took the box, turned on her heel, and went back to her room to pack.

Anything that had belonged to her mother, anything she considered important, she carefully gathered together, filling an entire suitcase by the time she was done.

Nora appeared in the doorway, her face tightening when she saw. “Anastasia, what’s all this? Are you planning on never coming home again?”

“I’m married now, Nora. I have my own place. It wouldn’t be right to keep coming back.”

Thinking of Harrison made her heart flutter; even that offhand remark left a sweetness in her chest.

This place wasn’t her home—not anymore. Not since her mother was gone. She just hadn’t wanted to see it before. Now, wherever Harrison was, that would be her true home.

She’d arrived at the house by cab, and left the same way.

When she returned to Rosewood Manor, the atmosphere felt immediately off.

The housekeepers jumped as soon as they saw her walk in, exchanging nervous glances, but none of them approached to explain. Instead, as if by instinct, they all cast their eyes upstairs.

There was something in their looks—anticipation, a hint of schadenfreude, as though they were waiting for a show at Anastasia’s expense.

Before she could ask what was going on, noise erupted from upstairs—

“All of this—throw it out! Who brought all this junk in here? Haven’t I said this is my room? No one comes in without my permission!”