The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 25

McNeil all but dragged her, half-carrying, half-pulling Victoria as she stumbled into the hotel lobby.

The woman at the front desk immediately sensed trouble, her hand hovering over the desk phone.

"McNeil, let go of me. Do you enjoy forcing people?"

Victoria tried to wrench her arm free, but McNeil ignored her, tightening his grip.

"Penthouse suite. My ID. Phone number is...," he rattled off the digits, tossing his wallet onto the counter with an impatient flick of his wrist, never loosening his hold on Victoria.

The receptionist looked them over: a strikingly handsome man and a beautiful, impeccably dressed woman—on the surface, they seemed like the perfect couple. But something was off. The woman was resisting, her discomfort obvious, while the man refused to let go.

"Miss, do you need me to call the police?" the receptionist asked, stepping forward without hesitation.

McNeil's face darkened. "We're married," he snapped.

Victoria was pressed to his side, physically restrained. The absurdity of his words almost made her laugh.

keeping her focus

One look at McNeil and the color drained from

"M-Mr. Langford..."

look from McNeil, the receptionist

out a soft, incredulous laugh. The Langford family really did have their fingers in every pie. If they'd been anywhere else, the receptionist might have actually called the cops, and even if McNeil talked his way out, it would take

disturbing us," McNeil ordered. Then, without warning, he hoisted Victoria over

his grip—and, right there in the open, delivered a

a front-row seat to

time, McNeil wasn't holding back- the blow sent tingles

to drink-not much, but being carried around

voice high and desperate. In the stillness of

two night-shift clerks exchanged

that Mr. Langford's girlfriend, Ms.

the same Violet Marchand who's always

ill. She doesn't look it

the penthouse suite, McNeil tossed Victoria onto

stripped off his suit jacket, yanked loose his tie, and even his shirt barely survived his