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There's a lot to be said for the woman, Penny Wright, herself in these matters. I mean, we at the Gossip Desk understand that she used to work for us and that she's the daughter of the Editor-In-Chief, but who really sleeps with their stepfather? Who even tries to tempt someone into doing that?
Was there two-directional flirting? Because if so, her feet deserve to be held closely to the fire as well.
There's a word for people like her. Before it was not accepted to use it to describe women, we would use the following words.
Slut.
Harlot.
Trollop.
Tramp.
Those are all adequate descriptions for a woman with the character and temperament to not only receive and welcome advances from her stepfather, but to actively seduce him as well.
It is our sincere hope that the Equinox Tower project be pulled from Davion Development, and that Magnus Davion be exiled from the company he founded. Such a large and powerful company does not belong in the hands of that man.
And who exactly is that man?
An uncouth and barbaric man-child on his best of days.
And a dangerous and scheming sexual predator who has the forked tongue to seduce an entire city on his worst of days.
New York City is much better off without Magnus Davion.
It's time the rest of us woke up to that reality. This man is nothing but the Devil himself.
Penny
I never thought I'd be here. Standing outside the Editor-In-Chief's office. After I'd been let go so unceremoniously.
But there's no other option. There's no other choice in the matter.
Magnus doesn't know that I'm here. I haven't told him. It's what I need to do. For Magnus.
For our baby.
The door opens and an Assistant Editor that I don't recognize walks out. Mom's been replacing a lot of the people in the top spots lately. But now it makes sense.
What she's doing is pure and simple character assassination. And a lot of old hands at the Daily Journal wouldn't have stood for it. They'd have either refused to do what she was asking and been fired, or resigned.
They certainly wouldn't be crawling back here for a desperate attempt at mercy.
At least that's what it seems like to me—a desperate attempt—as I walk into Mom's office.
No, she wasn't expecting me, okay. That's why she looks surprised. I didn't call ahead or do anything.
"I need to talk to you, Mother," I tell her.
She's silent. She wasn't expecting this.
Good. Maybe I have the element of surprise. Maybe I can penetrate through that shell.
"I need to tell you something," I say trying to draw strength from the silence.
But it's like Mom reads my thoughts, you know?
Because she breaks that silence with a simple, "What is it?"
