The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 63

Penelope was biding her time, waiting for the crowd around Theodore to disperse so she could dive back into her pitch. Whether he listened or not, she was determined to say her piece.

Suddenly, a hand gripped her shoulder.

Startled, she turned to see Zebulon.

“Go sit in the back. Stop embarrassing yourself here,” he hissed, leaning down to speak quietly.

Penelope’s brow furrowed. Who the hell did he think he was, talking to her like that?

“What’s so embarrassing about me sitting in my assigned seat?”

“You’re only sitting here because of your connection to the Sullivans!”

“Oh, really?” she scoffed. “If I’m riding your coattails, why am I sitting up front while you’re stuck in the back?”

Did that even make sense?

“So hurry up and give me my seat back!”

Penelope was speechless. He wanted her to give him the seat? He actually believed this was his spot? The arrogance was astounding.

“Zebulon, there are too many people here. I don’t want to make a scene,” Penelope said coldly, especially since she had important business to attend to.

But Zebulon wouldn’t let it go. He actually tried to pull her out of the chair. A surge of anger shot through Penelope, and she jabbed him with her elbow, breaking his grip.

“Penelope!”

Zebulon growled and reached for her arm again, but this time, Theodore, who had been sitting beside her, turned his head and looked at him.

His expression was neutral, yet Zebulon felt an unmistakable chill—a silent warning. He instinctively pulled his hand back.

“Mr. Sullivan, what are you doing standing here? Lost your seat? It’s right over there,” Michael said, appearing with a smile. He gestured toward the Sullivans’ table while gently steering Zebulon away.

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