Revenge is My Love Language novel Chapter 180

After finally managing to placate her mother with a few half-truths, Juliet’s phone buzzed with a call from her brother.

Benson Brennan was away on location for a film shoot and hadn’t been home for a while, so he didn’t know she hadn’t returned last night. He got straight to the point: “Did you give the package to Penelope?”

Juliet’s mouth twisted in annoyance. “Penelope, Penelope—it’s always about her! Every time you call, you ask about her first!”

Benson’s affection for Penelope was the thing that irritated Juliet most.

She used to think Penelope was great—gracious, gentle, the very picture of kindness. In fact, Juliet had even gone out of her way to befriend her cousin, all in hopes of getting closer.

But after the fiasco with Sandra’s boyfriend, Juliet finally saw past Penelope’s sweet facade.

A warm, teasing chuckle came through the line, full of the kind of fondness that made Juliet’s skin crawl. Benson obviously thought she was just being jealous.

“I didn’t even get you as much as I got Penelope. Why are you so upset? Or do you just hate running errands for me?”

Juliet pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.

Benson was always on the move, but never forgot Penelope. He was constantly bringing back gifts for her, and always made Juliet play delivery girl. Over the years, Penelope must have received a mountain of presents. Yet her own cousin, the supposed little sister, hadn’t gotten a single thing.

Juliet’s nose stung. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “I saw her today.”

There was a pause. When Benson spoke again, his voice had gone cold, stripped of all warmth—like he was talking about a stranger. “Her? You still call her your cousin? Does she even want to hear it?”

“I—”

“Don’t bring her up again,” he cut her off, the contempt in his voice unmistakable.

The call ended abruptly.

Juliet gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles went white, her chest aching. She remembered how, as kids, Benson had doted on their cousin. If she scraped her knee, he’d fret over her for hours, cuddling her until she stopped crying.

Helen was escorted inside. The moment she laid eyes on Harrison, all her carefully rehearsed lines vanished.

She stared, wide-eyed and awestruck, at the man before her. The aura of authority, the effortless confidence, the striking good looks—he was more dazzling than any movie star she’d ever obsessed over.

Her heart pounded wildly. This was the man bankrolling Anastasia?

And—wait—wasn’t he the same man from the hotel that night?

Why should Anastasia get everything?

Jealousy gnawed at Helen, but if Anastasia could have him, why couldn’t she?

The thought of this magnetic, powerful man becoming hers sent her heart racing. She gave her hair a coquettish toss, summoned every bit of courage, and tried to sound both shy and enticing.

“Good morning, sir. My name’s Helen…”