Chapter 18

 “Hi, Ms. Jill Buenaventura. Fancy meeting you here. I get that you don’t remember me given that look in your face. I’m Penelope Ciro. We met five years ago in London. Remember that fashion show?”

I crooked one brow and tried to remember her name and the event she’s talking about. Penelope… A flash of recognition dawned on me when I repeated her name in my head. My face hardened at the memory of a woman holding a placard outside the hotel where a fashion show I just attended was taking place. She is shouting expletive words on my face and then next thing I knew; she threw a rotten egg on my face. 

The next day's morning paper contained my picture who looks like I just ran over a dozen of eggs. Beside that column is a mugshot of the woman where her name is written in a nice bold black font.

“Ah, I remember your bloated face outside that building that night. Well, you look so good with that mismatched plaid jacket and a neon cropped top.”

Penelope smi