The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 192

“Whose wife?”

“Theodore’s.”

At the mention of that name, the man’s bravado instantly vanished. He quickly put his hands together and bowed apologetically to Penelope.

“It was a complete misunderstanding, Mrs. Stapleton. Please, don’t hold it against a nobody like me.”

It really was a misunderstanding, and she had been the one to throw the first punch.

Penelope quickly waved her hands. “No, I should be the one to apologize.”

“Please don’t say that! I couldn’t bear it!” With that, the man made a hasty retreat.

Penelope seriously considered a question. “Is Theodore in the mafia?”

Why else would everyone be so terrified of him?

“What are you talking about? He’s the heir to the Stapleton family. Zenith Group, the company that controls half the industries in Orenth and could fund a smaller company with the loose change in its pockets? Everyone wants to kiss up to him. People call him the Grim Reaper, not because he’s evil, but because he’s impossible to get close to. He’s got that permanent ice-cold expression.”

Penelope felt a small sense of relief. She had no interest in being a mob boss’s wife.

“Counting the video call, this is the second time we’ve met, right?” Simon said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Penelope nodded. Twice, she supposed.

“And both times, you’ve mistaken me for a woman.”

She bit her lip. It was a bit rude, but she could hardly be blamed. He had a head of long, silky hair, a slender, almost willowy figure, and was wearing a bright pink dress—or so she thought.

As if reading her mind, she glanced down at his outfit.

Simon’s eye twitched. He lifted the hem of his pink garment.

Penelope squeezed her eyes shut. “No, don’t!”

“Open your eyes!”

“I’m not into that!”

“I’m wearing shorts!”

Penelope peeked through one eye to confirm before opening them fully. It wasn’t a dress, but an oversized, loose-fitting T-shirt that covered the shorts he was wearing underneath.

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