The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 140

Violet dropped the pretense entirely. She took the smartwatch from Gwyneth's hand and turned on the speaker.

"Victoria, let's talk-just the two of us."

On the eighty-eighth floor of The Summit Suites, the city's skyline shimmered through floor-to-ceiling windows. In the softly lit sky lounge, a violinist played a gentle melody on stage while small lamps flickered on every table, their candlelight dancing in the warm air.

The meeting was set for eight, but Violet arrived a full hour late.

Victoria waited, unhurried, sipping her coffee. She'd ordered a delicate slice of cake, which she ate with a silver spoon-each small bite precise, careful, and effortlessly graceful.

Violet strode in, dressed in a crisp white blazer over a beige knee-length skirt- her entire look all sharp lines and businesslike efficiency. Several heads turned as she walked past, drawn by her commanding presence.

But the woman by the window, quietly leafing through a magazine, had already caught the room's attention. Victoria's poise and beauty were impossible to ignore; everyone who glanced her way was visibly struck.

Violet took the seat across from her. Her makeup was flawless, her expression touched with a hint of arrogance, though she masked it well.

"Victoria-"

Victoria for several long seconds before speaking, her words slow and deliberate. "You haven't

magazine, sitting up straighter, her gaze steady and unafraid as she

seemed to expect a reaction, but Victoria

edged with condescension. "There was no need to make a scene. Victoria, you're not

lifted her coffee, took a sip, and, though the bitterness was unmistakable, wore an expression

get it. You want to prove yourself to McNeil, prove you're more than a trophy wife-try to

fix that game? Everyone has a price. I figured

with the smugness

place. Yet now she'd taken a job at

sense not to tell Curtis about her marriage to McNeil. That, Violet

almost unfocused gaze-like she was looking straight through

"So, what's your offer?"

her cooling coffee, her face

a faint, smug

much as blink. No reaction at

a flicker of greed or surprise, but