The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Victoria had been ill for a while, and though her health was slowly improving, she knew she couldn't keep sending McNeil off to see Claire anymore.

She believed that a man only strayed when his needs weren't being met at home. Secretly, Violet had bought a drawer full of lacy lingerie, planning every detail. Once McNeil finally gave in to her, she was sure he'd never think about Claire again.

She'd heard that women who'd given birth often had ugly stretch marks on their bellies. She didn't want that for herself-she wasn't ready to lose her looks.

McNeil lit a cigarette. "Violet, Claire is my wife."

The words had barely left his lips when he heard a faint cough from the bedroom. He hung up right away.

Violet clutched her phone, tears streaming down her face, fingers tightening until she nearly snapped the device in two.

Staring out into the pitch-black night, she whispered to herself, "So, you two spent the whole night together, didn't you?"

McNeil didn't leave Claire's place until dawn.

dress shirt, nothing underneath. As she sat up, the buttons gaped open her bra nowhere

to her forehead and pulled the shirt tighter around her. Flashes of last night drifted back-she'd had a dream about McNeil, a vivid, shameless

but

ached her head throbbed,

you should take it easy and come in this afternoon," Ailie said, hovering in

Last night, she'd run into McNeil at the Barrow Club. She'd already had a few glasses of wine, and later, feeling miserable that even her own daughter refused to acknowledge her, she'd finished off half a bottle of

that, everything was a

no matter how

stopped by her friend Simms's place to change clothes. Only then did

as she walked into the office, heads

returned as Mr. Garcia's personal

the whispers

was famously picky when

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