Revenge is My Love Language novel Chapter 159

“How could it possibly be Anastasia? You must be mistaken!”

The waiter looked annoyed. “I work here. How would I get that wrong? Our boss’s daughter—there’s only one. Her name’s Anastasia. Who’s Penelope? Never heard of her.”

The room fell into an eerie silence. Every eye turned to Penelope.

Penelope’s face had gone rigid. She’d been to Serenity Heights countless times, sometimes bringing friends along, and every single time, the staff had treated her with the utmost respect.

What on earth was wrong with Louis today? How could they let an untrained waiter work the main floor?

Fighting down her irritation, she barked, “Get Louis over here—now!”

Sandra, always quick to take Penelope’s side, rushed to comfort her and then snapped at the waiter, “And who are you to decide whether Penelope is the Sterling family heiress? I bet you’ve never even met the Sterlings. Who taught you to spout nonsense like this?”

The crowd wavered, a ripple of doubt passing through them. That’s right, what did some low-level waiter know?

Besides, they’d all benefited from Penelope’s generosity—every favor and every gift she gave was tied to the Sterling name. How could she not be the Sterling family heiress?

People started to murmur reassurances. “Penelope, don’t let it get to you. Once the manager’s here, he’ll make sure this guy gets fired.”

“Exactly! God knows who bribed him to stir up trouble like this.”

“Penelope—oh! Wait, I remember now!” the waiter suddenly exclaimed.

Everyone’s gaze snapped to him. Sandra scoffed, “So you finally remember? Then you’d better—”

She didn’t even get to finish. The waiter’s voice boomed over hers:

“Penelope? Aren’t you the stepdaughter brought in by our boss’s second wife? The Sterling family’s—what do you call it—stepdaughter!”

Sandra’s words died in her throat. The rest of the group stared, dumbfounded.

“Step… stepdaughter?”

The waiter clapped as if the answer was obvious. “That’s it! I knew our boss’s daughter was named Anastasia. So where did this Penelope come from?”

He gave a look of relief, as if a puzzle had clicked into place. “And, Ms. Sterling, even if you technically count as a Sterling, this place isn’t yours. The hotel was left by your stepfather’s late first wife—Mrs. Cecilia Brennan—to her own daughter, Anastasia. So really, this has nothing to do with you.”

He even smiled, shaking his head. “You said you were the boss’s daughter—I nearly had a heart attack! Thought maybe she’d changed her name or something.”

Who could have guessed the hotel actually belonged to Anastasia—her mother’s legacy for her daughter!

And Penelope, a mere stepdaughter… How could she have the nerve?

The air in the room shifted, every gaze turning subtly suspicious, all aimed at Penelope.

Penelope’s face burned. Her vision swam, and for a moment, she thought she might faint.

Was her carefully managed web of friendships about to unravel—just like that?

She jabbed her palm even harder and snapped, “Get your manager out here! I want to know who put you up to this—who paid you to spread these lies!”

“Which part was a lie?”

The question came in a soft, lilting voice from across the room.

Everyone turned at once to see Anastasia gliding toward them, composed and elegant, flanked by two men who looked every inch the managers—and one of them, sweating and deferential, was none other than Louis, the very manager Penelope had been so fond of name-dropping.