The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth doing little to chase away the chill that had settled over the room.

Victoria swirled the red wine in her glass, bringing it to her lips for the occasional sip, her gaze distant and unfocused.

Out in the hallway, Haley stealthily dialed Yasmine. "Yasmine, you need to come see Mrs. Langford. It's barely dawn and she's already drinking."

Two glasses in, the wine was cold on Victoria's tongue, but her heart felt even colder.

She had just gotten off the phone with the bridal shop.

The plan was simple: on their anniversary, the dress would be delivered in the morning. That evening, she'd wear it to the studio, where she and McNeil would have their portrait taken—a keepsake for another year together.

But then, a minor hitch: McNeil had bailed last minute, and she'd somehow forgotten all about the dress herself.

And now-

"Mrs. Langford, we've already delivered the gown. You didn't receive it?"

Victoria frowned. She certainly hadn't.

"Where exactly did you send it?"

Manor, Winding Peak Lane. Mr. Langford's

toppled, and

carpet, blossoming into a vivid stain-like the wound blooming in her

Peak Lane. Midhill

McNeil's secret love nest.

for six years. McNeil probably thought Victoria had no idea. But she'd always followed the advice of the old folks: "Before

herself, as long as McNeil treated her and their child well, there was no

father-in-law had shrugged it off: "A man straying now and then is

nobody could take that from

But now-

and now even the wedding dress for their anniversary had ended up in Violet's

time, she couldn't just turn a blind

bottles

but not entirely lost- mostly sober,

scent

the picture of domestic grace- reserved, distant from the world, content to

never seen her as the trophy wife the tabloids made her out

the last time Victoria had spiraled like

Yasmine called

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