Chapter 49

Since his divorce, Mr. Johnson had never remarried. His only son lived with his ex-wife, leaving him alone in the massive mansion, save for a few distant relatives. However, the house was fully staffed with servants.

A young maid named Una led Penelope up to the master bedroom on the second floor. As soon as she walked in, she knew something was wrong. This was clearly a man's room.

"I think I should stay in a guest room," she said.

Una blinked, confused. "But Madam, this is the young master's room, which means it's your room too."

"But I... I don't really know your young master."

It wasn't just that she didn't know him well; she had never even formally met him.

Una grinned. "Don't worry, you'll get to know him soon enough."

"It just feels a little awkward, you know?"

"No, I don't."

Penelope sighed. It seemed everyone in the Johnson household was as wonderfully eccentric as Mr. Johnson himself. But she was cold and hungry and didn't have the energy to argue. She asked Una to find her some clothes and went into the bathroom.

The hot water cascading over her was a welcome relief. She let out a long sigh. It's over. It's all over. She knew she couldn't change the past, so there was no point dwelling on it. And the things she had lost? She would just have to pretend they were never important.

But the three Sullivans and Rebecca-she would not let them get away with this.

The bathroom was well-stocked with toiletries, mostly brand-new men's products. The bedroom, too, was immaculate, clearly well-maintained but unoccupied. Mr. Johnson had likely prepared everything in the hopes that his son would one day return to live with him.

After her shower, Penelope felt human again. She wrapped herself in a towel and walked out to find a man's shorts-and-t-shirt set laid out on the bed.

Una scratched her head apologetically. "We don't have any of your clothes here, so... I borrowed a set from the young master."

Penelope took a deep breath. "Could I borrow something of yours instead?"

"I don't live here, so I don't keep any clothes here."

"What about the other maids?"

"Wendy lives here, but she's... well, her clothes might not stay on you."

Penelope gave up. Her stomach was rumbling, and she didn't care what she wore anymore. But when she put on the outfit, she had to pause. It was enormous The t-shirt fit like a dress, and the shorts came down to her shins.

This is the young master's? she wondered. The man she remembered was short and slight event smaller than her How could he possibly fit into this? The tags were stillon, so he had clearly never worn it. But whoever bought it had terrible judgment.

"The master bought it," Una offered.

That explains it, Penelope thought.

When she went downstairs in the ridiculous outfit, Mr. Johnson looked her over and nodded in satisfaction. "Perfect. It fits you very well."

Penelope's eye twitched. His standard for a good fit was apparently whether the clothes managed to hang on her body without falling off.

Dinner was a lavish spread. Mr. Johnson kept piling food onto her plate, and she gratefully ate every bite. Once the edge was off her hunger, she turned to him.

"Do you have any wine?"

At one in the morning, Theodore walked into the Johnson mansion, his face a mask of irritation. He had been asleep when his father called him, three times in a

row.

"Son, help me! Your fiancée is terrifying!"

"I'm exhausted, but she won't let me sleep!"

"She's drunk and completely out of control!"

When Theodore entered, he found his father cowering behind the sofa, looking on the verge of tears.

Penelope, meanwhile, was balancing

swatting at

on the back of the solange

the air.

"Butterflies! So many butterflies! I want that one!" she exclaimed, lunging at

nothing and nearly toppling over.