Chapter 403: Nathaniel
Pampered by my three brothers: the return of the neglected heiress
[Flashback]
Penny sat at the bus stop, waiting for the bus. Her listless eyes were cast down, unsure of what weighed her down more â was it her exhaustion from working tirelessly, or getting scolded by Atlas after helping him resolve an issue?
"What an ungrateful man," she mumbled, kicking the air lazily. She was already numb to Atlasâs usual scolding whenever he saw her at the company, but sometimes, it frustrated her. "Itâs not like I donât know he doesnât like me, but if someone offers help, the last thing they should do is scold them. How unfair."
Another deep sigh escaped her. Still, she felt relieved that the issue was fixed despite the reprimand afterward. By now, Penny was too tired and too numb to dwell on Atlasâs reaction. It wasnât the first time, nor the second, or even the third. This had been happening since they were children, and it continued into their adulthood.
What was new?
"Boyfriend?"
Deep lines appeared between her brows as she turned her head to the person sitting at the other end of the bench. The man had a naturally playful face, but although he was good-looking, his messy, frizzy-dyed hair made him look rather unkempt.
Penny looked away, uninterested in talking to strangers.
"Or was it work?" the man added curiously. "Well, that makes two of us. Today, I did all my deliveries perfectly, but once I finished, I got kicked out! Itâs unfair!"
"Kicked out?" She slowly set her eyes back on him, assessing him from head to toe. Based on his open floral shirt, ragged pants, and worn-out Crocs, it was clear he was barely making ends meet.
"I was," he nodded and shrugged. "They said Iâm fired just because I didnât agree with the clientâs request, but I know thatâs not the real reason. They fired me because Iâm too good at my job â smarter than the owner. He canât accept that a mere delivery guy is smarter than him."
Penny pressed her lips into a thin line. "You donât look smart, though."
"Hey, Miss, arenât you being a little judgmental right now?" he scrunched his nose, while Penny shrugged faintly. "You also look like someone who canât be trusted."
"What makes you say I donât look trustworthy?"
"Have you seen yourself in the mirror?"
No.
The man shook his head, reading her answer on her face. "If people donât appreciate you, stop doing them favors. Youâll be happier that way."
"Itâs not that easy," she whispered, her eyes cast down. "How can I be happy when, for my whole life, Iâve only ever felt happy when Iâm accepted?"
"I accept you."
Penny snapped her eyes at him and coldly said, "I donât care about your acceptance."
His face twisted at how bluntly and coldly she said those words. Penny didnât linger long as the bus arrived and she got on. The man followed, but he got off at the next stop.
Penny thought the encounter was a one-time thing. However, the next time she was feeling down and waiting at that same bus stop, the guy appeared again.
They talked briefly once more, with Penny mentioning sheâd been scolded again, and the guy explaining heâd been fired again. Just like the first meeting, they got on the bus, and he got off at the next stop.
A month later, the same scenario repeated.
This meeting occurred five times. On the fifth occasion, they didnât get on the bus; they stayed and talked about their frustrations. Eventually, the two became friends, and Penny began to trust him. While drinking together, she would occasionally confide in him about personal mattersâher family relationships, problems, and more.
Little did she know, everything she told him was being sold somewhere else.
The results? Penny ended up in jail, spending her time toeing the line between sanity and madness before her eventual death.
All because she trusted Nathaniel. A man she thought was her friend.
---
[PRESENT TIME]
"Haha. Good luck, Miss Miller."
[Haha. Good luck, Penny.]
Those were the words that man would always say to Penny whenever she planned to do something. He would laugh and cheer her on. He had said it so many times that she could almost memorize his tone and inflection.
"Right," she whispered, snapping back to the present time. "He had a talent for mimicking peopleâs voices."
No wonder she hadnât recognized it immediatelyâhe was altering his voice. Fortunately, he slipped up during that last call.
"So, heâs alive and still running the same scam, huh?" Penny ran her tongue across her inner cheek, her eyes gleaming dangerously.
Besides realizing how Patricia had been hired to impersonate Zorenâs Thursday Girl, Penny had learned that the person pulling the strings wasnât connected to the information center. If Nathaniel were affiliated with the bar, they wouldnât have released this information for protection purposes.
"That brings back a lot of unnecessary memories," she muttered, refocusing on the script Patricia needed to memorize. "This script... how did it become so detailed? Where did they get it?"
---
[Skyline Plaza: Zoren]
Zoren stood in front of a bookshelf, holding an old notebook in his hand.
"So, itâs my fault?" he mused quietly, staring at the old diary he had kept for years. "The tools theyâre using to deceive me... are mine?"
During his treatment, Zoren had written in notebooks as a form of therapy. He filled all twenty notebooks with memories of Penny â every page, every detail, from how she looked and spoke to his promises to her.
That was why Zoren kept the notebooks as though they were treasures.
The only thing he hadnât written down was how Penny called Blacky. He had missed that, usually writing "Renny" instead, even recording how he came up with the name.
"No wonder they knew everything except that." His lips twisted in displeasure at the thought of people âstealingâ his precious memories. Zoren took a deep breath and walked back to his desk. He commanded his phone to dial someone, then held it to his ear.
When the line connected, he said, "Iâm sending you a file. Find out who he is and bring him to me."