The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 12

The wall clock struck midnight, its chimes echoing through the empty house. He'd been on his feet all day, exhausted to the bone, and could have just crashed on the couch at work. But the thought of his wife waiting at home drove him out into the bitter, wintry night, forcing his way back here even as the world slept.

"I need to thank you," he said quietly, his voice rough with fatigue. "Not just with words. Victoria-thank you."

Thinking of Violet's successful surgery, the tension in his chest finally loosened, just a little. His Victoria-always in his corner, always thinking of him first.

"You mean you want to thank me because I saved your old flame?" Victoria's laugh was sharp and cold, laced with a bitterness she didn't bother to hide.

For the past two weeks, she'd called him who knows how many times, searched for him, begged for even a glance—and he hadn't come home, not even once.

But now, moved by guilt for his childhood sweetheart, he'd finally remembered her existence—and wanted to repay her with his body, as if that was some grand gesture.

"I mean it," McNeil insisted, his tone earnest. "I've already sent your wedding dress in for repairs. It should be back in ten days."

His words twisted in her chest, hurting her more than she cared to admit.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you, Mr. Langford."

of love-now empty, stripped of the tenderness they used to

third step on the staircase, her dark hair catching the hallway light as she glanced over her shoulder, her movement as fluid as drifting

voice icy. "You don't really need to thank me. Violet's

eye, her lips twisting into a cold, merciless

seen the divorce papers. Find some time

his body gone numb. It never crossed his mind that Victoria-who never cared about profit or loss, who only ever wanted to grow old with him-could

swore he could hear something inside him shatter, the pain seizing his heart in

Victoria-

he been wrong about her all along? Victoria headed upstairs. Their daughter hadn't come home; she was probably

that Violet was recovering and McNeil had returned,

the familiar number, the housekeeper must have thought

Victoria said, her tone cold and firm. The housekeeper hesitated, realizing it was a woman's

to me. Hang up on me and you'll all have lawyer's letters

just wanted to earn a living, not get caught up in her

tense silence followed as the