The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 134

Victoria glanced at her colleagues from the PR department, noting their awkward, forced smiles—the disdain in their eyes was unmistakable.

Violet hadn't just given her a revealing dress; she'd ensured Victoria would stand out in the worst possible way, especially in front of the PR team. Victoria, already strikingly beautiful with a natural allure, now looked even more dazzling in the sultry outfit and bold makeup-she practically stole the spotlight from everyone else.

It was obvious: Violet wanted her to be the target of every jealous glance.

But Victoria refused to let their stares rattle her. With calm confidence, she walked right up to the group.

"I'll go over today's assignments," she announced.

She pulled out her neatly organized notes and, unfazed, handed out the responsibilities for the evening. Who was in charge of greeting which VIP, what to avoid, who preferred which cocktail-she had every detail down to a science.

As she worked, something shifted. Beneath the flashy clothes and dramatic makeup, the real Victoria emerged: poised, competent, and utterly in control. The initial impression-cheap and out of place-began to melt away as her colleagues witnessed her skill in action. Maybe, they thought, the rumors about Victoria just using Mr. Garcia to climb the ladder weren't the whole story. Maybe she wasn't just a pretty face after all.

in the lobby for the guests to arrive. Each

front of the lineup, her presence impossible

and political elites-people who'd seen their share of beautiful faces. They simply found their assigned host and

colleagues pair off with their guests one by one, Victoria started to feel anxious. The weather wasn't exactly kind, and standing outside in such a thin dress was leaving her

black limousine pulled up to

toward it-clearly, someone important had arrived. She didn't bother looking; all she could think about was how much longer she'd have to wait. Her body was starting to

tall, broad-shouldered figure appeared, surrounded by a small

perfectly tailored suit, exuding that effortless power and confidence. He was impossible to miss, and of course

to him-there was no reason to—but McNeil strode right up until there

"Ms. Turner?"

devoid of warmth. Still, the deep timbre-so