Chapter 4 That Was a Notice

"Chloe, hello."

Penelope's voice was steady and polite.

Chloe froze for a second, instinctively looking at Matthew, seemingly not expecting things to go so smoothly.

Matthew frowned, staring at Penelope with scrutiny.

Penelope looked away and turned to Stella. "Mom, not all the dishes are here yet. I'll go check on the kitchen."

Stella waved her hand. "No need. The chef will handle it. Just sit down now that you're here, don't make trouble."

Penelope nodded obediently and quietly sat down at the corner seat at the dining table.

Every dish on the table was Matthew's favorite—fried fish, beef stew, steak—all personally requested by Stella from the chef.

Penelope remembered the year she was first adopted, when she had a high fever and Stella brought her a bowl of oatmeal. That was one of the few moments of warmth she'd felt in this family.

After Stella discovered her relationship with Matthew, that warmth never appeared again.

At the table, Stella pulled Chloe into conversation, asking about this and that, and right then and there took off a gemstone bracelet from her wrist to give to Chloe.

"Chloe, this gemstone bracelet is an antique. You wear it."

Chloe tried to decline, not daring to accept it, but Matthew spoke up casually from the side. "Mom's giving it to you. Take it."

Chloe blushed and accepted it.

Penelope quietly ate the food in front of her, waves of pain twisting through her stomach. She bit down on her utensils and waited it out, forcing herself to swallow.

Just then, Stella suddenly changed the subject and looked at her.

"Penelope, you've seen those news stories online about Dominic and Catherine, right?"

Penelope's movements stopped.

Stella's tone wasn't harsh, but every word was pointed. "You're the Sinclair family's lady of the house in name, at least. With things spreading like that outside, don't you know to handle it?"

Chloe tactfully lowered her head to eat her rice. Matthew expressionlessly drank his soup, as if this matter had nothing to do with him.

"A woman who can't even keep her own husband in check—it's not just embarrassing for the Sinclair family, but for us Hartwells too."

Penelope silently put down her utensils.

"I'll handle it."

Stella snorted coldly. "You'd better actually handle it. When you married into the Sinclair family, it was a business marriage. Our two families have a partnership. If Dominic dumps you, all the Hartwell family's investment will be wasted."

After dinner, she excused herself to use the restroom, but actually wanted to go back to the room on the second floor that used to be hers. She had some old belongings left there.

A few notebooks with her college algorithm notes, and an old USB drive with the source code of her first encryption program.

She pushed open the room door and froze in place.

The walls had been painted light pink, the curtains changed to floral lace, and there were several perfume bottles and a new makeup mirror on the desk.

The entire room had been remodeled.

All traces of her had been erased.

Penelope stood in the doorway without entering. Her eyes swept over every corner, confirming there was nothing left here that belonged to her.

Just as she was about to turn around, she caught sight of the half-open balcony door.

On the balcony, Matthew was holding Chloe from behind by the waist. The two leaned against the railing talking about something. Chloe laughed and looked up, and Matthew lowered his head to kiss her forehead—the gesture very natural.

Penelope looked away and turned to go downstairs.

"Stop."

The voice behind her made her pause.

Matthew had followed her out and stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at her.

"What were you doing in that room?"

"I had some old things left here. I wanted to take them." Penelope didn't turn around, her voice flat.

Matthew was silent for two seconds. "Before moving in, I had the servants clear it out. Everything that wasn't Chloe's was thrown away."

Penelope stood in the middle of the stairs, her hand on the railing.

"Thrown away means discarded?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I understand."

She continued down the stairs, her steps not pausing, not looking back, not questioning him even once.

Behind her, Matthew's expression darkened instead.

After briefly saying goodbye to Stella, Penelope took a taxi back to the Sinclair Villa.

The living room light on the first floor was on.

Dominic sat on the sofa, holding a glass of wine, legs crossed. On the coffee table were scattered documents and an open tablet showing public opinion data about Catherine's birthday party.

Hearing the door, he lifted his eyelids.

"Come here."

Penelope changed her shoes and walked over, standing across from the coffee table without sitting down.

Dominic pushed the documents toward her. "PR process and messaging plan. Look it over. Final draft by tomorrow. Day after tomorrow, coordinate with Catherine's team to release a unified statement."

Penelope glanced down at the document cover without reaching for it.

"I haven't agreed to the conditions your assistant proposed."

Dominic's hand holding the wine glass stopped.

He looked up, his gaze landing on Penelope's face with scrutiny.

"Conditions?" His voice was light. "When did I ever discuss conditions with you?"

Penelope looked into his eyes. "Your assistant said to exchange this for the Sinclair Group's partnership with the company. Isn't that a condition?"

Dominic set his wine glass on the coffee table. The collision sound was clear in the quiet living room.

"Penelope, that's not a condition."

He spoke each word deliberately. "That was a notification."

Penelope's fingers curled slightly.

"I don't want to do it."

The air was silent for two seconds.

Dominic stood up. He was a head taller than her, his shadow falling over her. "What did you say?"

"I said I don't want to do this PR work." Penelope's voice didn't tremble.

Dominic looked at her with something like amusement, as if he'd heard a joke.

"Who did you learn this from? Advancing by retreating? Playing hard to get with me—you're addicted to that game?"

"It's not playing hard to get. I'm serious."

"Penelope!"

He stepped forward. Penelope instinctively stepped back half a step, her lower back hitting the edge of the cabinet. She gasped in pain.

"I told you, the position of Mrs. Sinclair is yours, but that doesn't mean you can disobey." Dominic's voice lowered with warning. "You'd better understand—you're sitting in this position not because you're anything special."

Penelope lifted her face to look at him.

Her lips were a bit dry and cracked, her face still pale under the lights.

Before she could say anything, Dominic's phone on the coffee table vibrated.

The screen lit up, showing Catherine's name on the caller ID.

Dominic's expression changed instantly.

He answered the call, his voice immediately turning gentle—a tone Penelope had never heard before. "Catherine? What's wrong?"

Catherine's tearful voice came through the phone. "Dominic, those comments online are so mean. They're calling me a homewrecker. I'm so scared."

"Don't look at them. I'm coming over right now."

Dominic hung up, grabbed his car keys, and strode toward the door without even taking his coat.