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.

slept until nearly nine, waking with her head pounding. She was still wearing McNeil's dress shirt,

of last night drifted back-she'd had a dream about McNeil, a vivid, shameless one. In her dream, they'd been together again and

help but laugh at

head throbbed, her back was sore, and her legs trembled. She felt completely drained, as

Mr. Garcia said you should take it easy and come in this afternoon,"

into McNeil at the Barrow Club. She'd already had a few glasses of wine, and

was a blur-except

dreams, no matter how

her friend Simms's place to change

into the office, heads turned. Claire was

Mr.

the whispers

famously picky when

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