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.

wait in the lobby for the guests to arrive. Each woman on the PR team had been assigned a VIP to greet and escort into

front of the lineup, her presence impossible to

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

one, Victoria started to feel anxious. The weather wasn't exactly kind, and standing outside in

black limousine pulled up

of reporters with their cameras rush 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

ten minutes or so, a tall, broad-shouldered figure appeared, surrounded by a small entourage making

power and confidence. He was impossible

no reason to—but McNeil strode

"Ms. Turner?"

the deep timbre-so familiar, like a fine cabernet-made Victoria's body shiver before she could