The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 22

"I'm Victoria's husband."

Osborn's expression faltered for a split second before a sly, almost mocking smile tugged at his lips as he shook McNeil's hand.

The handshake was firm-too firm. Both men could feel the unspoken hostility in the pressure of each other's grip.

"Osborn. Vicky's—” he paused, gaze flicking to Victoria, "old friend from university."

Osborn didn't bother hiding the way he sized McNeil up, his look openly challenging, bordering on provocative.

"So you're the mysterious husband Vicky's been hiding all this time? Did you two really get married, or is that just another smoke screen you cooked up, Vicky?"

Victoria lowered her gaze, the shadow of a bitter smile twisting her lips. Of course. Everyone her friends, her family-all knew about her so-called "secret" marriage.

But in McNeil's world, no one really knew Victoria at all.

"Secret marriage? That's not quite right," McNeil replied, utterly unruffled. He laced his fingers with Victoria's, as if making a statement for all to see. Victoria tried to pull away, almost recoiling from his touch, but his grip was unyielding. With Osborn right there, she didn't want to make a scene, so she let him hold on.

side. Our marriage is

McNeil's voice-just blunt honesty, especially with this would-be rival standing right

man; he could read the meaning in

had never mentioned

his presence. In six years of marriage, their conversations

on his wife. “Have you eaten? It's cold here in Echo

a faint, derisive chuckle but held

"Vicky-"

not, Osborn. I'm heading home," Victoria cut him off, making it clear

McNeil had flown all this way to find her, he hadn't

she knew: McNeil never

to his car. He pushed her into the back seat, closed the windows,

the faint orange glow from a streetlamp outside.

"Victoria, you're something else."

place she might

were so close she could hear the ragged