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."

once so full of love-now empty, stripped of the

the staircase, her dark hair catching the hallway light as she

almost forgot," she added, her voice icy. "You don't really need to thank me. Violet's life was saved in

into a cold, merciless smile. She ignored the storm raging in his

seen the divorce papers. Find some time to

the middle of the living room, 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

hear something inside him shatter, the

Victoria-

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

was recovering and McNeil had

up the landline and dialed the other house. Recognizing the familiar number, the housekeeper must have thought it

and firm. The housekeeper hesitated, realizing it was a woman's voice, and almost hung

That house still belongs to me. Hang up on me and you'll all have

not get caught up in her employers'

tense silence followed as the housekeeper