The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 16

A streak of red cut through the midnight hush, stark against the endless white beneath the streetlights.

With her mind preoccupied with worry for her daughter, Victoria hardly noticed the snow piling up outside, falling harder and faster by the minute.

She sat in her car, shivering as the cold seeped in through the doors, and fished out her phone to call McNeil.

Not a sound stirred. On such a frigid night, with the hour so late, the roads were deserted—no headlights, not even a shadow passing by.

The gas gauge hovered near empty. Dawn was still hours away, and no matter how many layers she wore, she wouldn't last long without heat. If the car's engine died, so might she-frozen before sunrise.

Inside McNeil's car, her calls went unanswered, the name "Victoria" blinking insistently on his dashboard screen.

He glanced at it—just for a moment. It wasn't his daughter calling, so he ignored

it.

Violet was coughing up blood. She'd just come out of surgery earlier that day. The doctors had said it was a success-so why was this happening?

for Victoria's calls, not tonight.

had once risked

and take her with him to Winding Peak Lane to see

really was wrong, she needed to be there,

times she called,

to the bone. In ten more minutes, she'd be frozen

the

behind her, and as she trudged forward through

she could barely grasp the phone, but still, no one

McNeil raced back to Winding Peak Lane as fast as

SUV slid into the driveway, and a housekeeper rushed out to open

voice tight with worry. McNeil barely noticed that the housekeeper had stopped calling Violet "Ms. Marchand" and instead said "she."

was in the bedroom, cleaning blood off the sheets and swapping

"Violet-"

broth. Gwyneth had just finished a drawing and held it out to

you and Daddy, and that's me.

a