Chapter 6 Do You Dare Threaten Her?

Dominic stared at the divorce papers on the coffee table for a long time—so long that Catherine had to call his name softly twice from behind him before he finally reacted.

He reached out and picked up the document. Penelope's heart skipped a beat.

Then he folded the papers in half, then in half again, methodically creasing them into a small square before tossing it into the trash can under the coffee table.

"Penelope, you can stop the act now."

Dominic's voice was flat, devoid of anger, carrying only a condescending weariness.

"Quitting your job, throwing divorce papers at me, making a scene in front of Catherine—what exactly do you want? Money? Or do I have to say out loud that you're Mrs. Sinclair before you're satisfied?"

Penelope looked at the divorce papers in the trash can and suddenly felt it was all ridiculous.

The step she'd mustered all her courage to take was nothing but unreasonable trouble-making in Dominic's eyes.

"I'm not acting."

"You've been acting since the first time you tested my limits by refusing that PR thing." Dominic's gaze swept over her. "You think if you make a fuss, I'll give you all my attention?"

He took a step forward. This time Penelope didn't back away.

"Listen carefully. I'll say this one last time—nobody can touch your position, but don't use these petty tricks to wear down my patience."

Behind him, Catherine let out a timely muffled groan of pain, her hand pressing against the waist she'd just bumped.

Dominic's attention was immediately pulled away.

He turned around, bent down to check Catherine's injury. "Does it still hurt?"

Catherine shook her head, her eyes rimmed with red, her voice soft as if afraid to disturb something. "I'm fine. Finish talking to Penelope first."

Dominic cut her off directly. "There's nothing more to say."

He held Catherine's shoulder and led her toward the door. When passing Penelope, he paused for a second without turning back.

"Put away those little schemes of yours. I'm not coming back tonight. You better reflect on yourself."

The door closed gently, but the sound landed heavily in Penelope's ears.

She was the only one left in the living room.

The folded divorce papers lay quietly in the trash can.

Penelope stood there for a while, then crouched down to retrieve them, unfolded and smoothed them out, and put them back in her bag.

Then she went upstairs and started packing.

There wasn't much in the closet that belonged to her—just a few changes of clothes, an old laptop, and a small cloth bag containing medicine.

She packed these things into her suitcase. Just as she'd pulled the zipper halfway, her phone rang.

The caller ID showed the landline from The Sinclair Estate.

Penelope stared at the screen for two seconds before answering.

On the other end was Roman, the butler of The Sinclair Estate, his tone very respectful. "Mrs. Sinclair, Mr. Donald Sinclair's birthday celebration is next Tuesday. The party will be held at The Sinclair Estate, and he wants you to attend with Mr. Dominic Sinclair."

Penelope held the phone without speaking.

Roman added, "The invitations have been sent out. Everyone in the Sinclair family will be there, and some business partners have also been invited. Mr. Donald Sinclair specifically instructed that you must attend."

Penelope looked at her half-zipped suitcase.

"I understand."

After hanging up, she opened the suitcase and put the clothes back in the closet.

She couldn't leave now.

Donald held a high position in the Sinclair Group. Even though he'd retired to the background, no one in the family dared disrespect him. If Penelope was absent from the birthday party, it would announce to the outside world that there were problems within the Sinclair family.

Dominic wouldn't allow it, and Donald even less so.

She needed to call and inform Dominic.

The call connected after two rings, but it wasn't him who spoke.

Catherine's voice.

Penelope's fingers paused.

The background was quiet, sounding like they were in some room, not a hospital.

Catherine had probably seen the caller ID. Her voice carried a perfectly calibrated innocence.

"Penelope? Dominic's in the bathroom. Is there something I can pass along?"

Penelope said briefly, "Tell him to call me back."

"Okay." Catherine paused, then her tone suddenly softened, becoming tentative. "Penelope, don't blame Dominic. He has a bad temper but he's not targeting you. Actually, he's been thinking these past few days about how to have a proper talk with you about things between you two."

Penelope didn't respond.

Catherine continued, "I know you're upset. After all, you've given so much these three years. But with some things, letting go sooner is better for everyone, don't you think?"

Her tone was gentle and considerate, but the meaning behind her words was urging her to let go.

Penelope hung up.

She sent Dominic a text: Your grandfather's birthday party—we both need to attend. Ask Roman for the specific time.

After sending it, she tossed her phone on the nightstand, went to the bathroom to wash her face. In the mirror, her lips were more severely chapped, and dark circles showed under her eyes.

She pulled out a bottle of painkillers from her pocket, shook out two pills, and swallowed them with cold water from the tap.

Her stomach cramped once, then went quiet.

Penelope turned off the light and got into bed.

She was so tired, both physically and mentally exhausted. Her consciousness quickly blurred. Just as she fell asleep, the bedroom door was suddenly pushed open.

The instant the light turned on, harsh white light flooded in.

Before Penelope could sit up, someone grabbed her wrist.

Dominic stood by the bed, carrying a chill with him, his shirt collar loose, his chest heaving violently.

He practically yanked Penelope out from under the covers.

"What did you do?"

His voice was low and heavy, suppressing rage.

Her wrist hurt from being grabbed. The drowsiness vanished instantly, but her mind hadn't caught up yet.

"What are you talking about?"

Dominic shoved his phone screen in front of her.

On the screen was a photo of a letter. The paper had words crudely cut from newspapers and pasted together to form a sentence: "Get out of Harborview City, or you're finished."

Recipient: Catherine.

"Catherine came home tonight and found this letter stuck in her apartment door." Dominic stared hard at Penelope, breathing heavily. "You threw divorce papers at her, pushed her into the table, and now you're sending threatening letters. Penelope, are these the only tricks you have?"

Penelope stared at the screen, her brain racing.

"It wasn't me."

"You're still going to deny it?"

"I haven't left this room since this afternoon."

Dominic laughed coldly. "You don't need to go out yourself. You could just have someone deliver it."

A metallic sweetness surged up Penelope's throat.

She swallowed it back down.

"Dominic, Catherine's apartment has card-access entry, and there are cameras in the hallway. You didn't even check the most basic things before coming to accuse me?"

Dominic's anger was momentarily blocked by this statement, but only for an instant.

"Are you trying to tell me how to do things?"

Penelope braced herself against the edge of the bed, trying to stand up. The churning in her stomach grew more violent. She knew she couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Believe it or not, I didn't send that letter." She took a deep breath, her voice trembling from physical discomfort. "I'm not that bored."

"You—!"

Before Dominic could finish, Penelope suddenly bent over.

A mouthful of blood gushed from her mouth, splattering onto Dominic's leather shoes.

The color was shocking, falling onto the beige carpet and quickly spreading.

Penelope knelt on the floor, one hand desperately gripping the edge of the bed, the other covering her mouth as blood seeped through her fingers.

The bedroom was very quiet. You could hear the sound of blood dripping onto the carpet.

Dominic stood in place without moving.

He looked down at the blood on his shoes, then at Penelope curled up on the floor.