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.

She was still wearing McNeil's dress shirt, nothing underneath. As she sat up, the buttons gaped open her bra nowhere

back-she'd had a dream about McNeil, a vivid,

couldn't help but laugh at

knees almost buckled. Her whole body ached her head throbbed, her back was sore, and her legs trembled. She felt completely

should take it easy and come in this

a few glasses of wine, and later, feeling miserable that

was a blur-except for that

dreams, no matter how

Technologies, Claire stopped by her friend Simms's place

soon as she walked into the office, heads turned. Claire

now she'd returned as Mr. Garcia's personal

the

was famously picky when

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