Chapter 487
The villa Penelope was selling was the one Mr. Johnson had given her. She’d recently discovered she was still paying the utility bills for it; a considerable sum was being automatically deducted from her account every month, even though the house was supposed to be empty.
Something was clearly wrong, but she couldn’t be bothered to argue with the property management office. She decided it was easier to just sell the place, so she listed it with an agency.
When she arrived at the villa, she instinctively glanced across the street.
The Sullivan family lived there, which was the main reason she no longer wanted the house. But their gate was shut tight, and the yard was overgrown with weeds, looking as if no one had lived there for a very long time.
Maybe they moved, she thought, turning her attention back to her own property.
She entered the code for the gate, but it was incorrect.
The people squatting in her house must have changed it. Just as she was about to call property management, the gate swung open from the inside.
“Didn’t I tell you? Our house is not for sale p>
A woman shouted, but as she finished, she realized it wasn’t the real estate agent but Penelope. She froze, her expression shifting several times before finally settling on one of delighted surprise.
“Penelope, is that really you? You’re back p>
It was Mrs. Sullivan.
The moment Penelope saw her, she frowned. So, the people who had been squatting in her villa all these years were the Sullivans!
“Oh, my dear, where have you been all these years? We’ve been looking everywhere for you, worried sick you’d gotten into some kind of trouble!” Mrs. Sullivan said, even wiping away a tear.
“You’re finally back. It’s so good that you’re back p>
Penelope pressed her lips together. What kind of act was this?
“Come in, come in!” Mrs. Sullivan quickly pulled the gate wider, inviting her in while rambling, “He’ll be so happy to see you p>
Mrs. Sullivan headed inside first. With a sarcastic twist of her lips, Penelope followed.
After being occupied for six years, her home was completely transformed. The garden had become a vegetable patch, the pond a sandbox complete with a child’ S slide, and even the steps leading to her front door had been leveled into a ramp.
Mrs. Sullivan stood at the front door, waving her in enthusiastically.
“Penelope, don’t be a stranger. Come in and sit down p>
A stranger?
Had she actually forgotten whose house this was?
Speechless, Penelope stepped inside. The interior wasn’t drastically different in layout, but it was cluttered with junk. The leather. in the living room had several
slashes, the white walls were
sofa
covered in crayon scribbles, and the
floor looked like
it had been flooded,
with warped, moldy patches
everywhere.
“Who gave you permission to live in my house?” Penelope didn’t want to waste
words with the Sullivans and turned directly to Mrs. Sullivan.
A flicker of guilt crossed Mrs. Sullivan’s face. “Back when Stone Group went bankrupt, we had to sell our villa across the street to pay off debts. We suddenly had nowhere to live p>
“So what gives you the right to live here? Did you get my permission p>
“Zebulon was still in prison then, and that bitch Rebecca gave birth, dumped the newborn baby on us, and ran off. And just when we were at our lowest, he had a stroke and was paralyzed from the waist down, Tell me, what was I supposed to do? I had to care for a two-month-old baby and a disabled man with no place to live p>
Penelope felt not an ounce of sympathy for the Sullivans’ plight.
“So you just decided to move into my house without asking?” “Penelope, I truly had no other choice p>
“I don’t care what your choices were. You had no right to live here! Now, I want you
to get out immediately and pay for all the damages you’ve caused to my property p>
Just then, a sharp crash echoed from one of the downstairs rooms.
Mrs. Sullivan cried out, told Penelope to find a place to sit, and rushed toward the sound.