The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 161

Fortunately for Ailie, she was Victoria's friend-her social "get out of jail free" card made her untouchable at gatherings like this. No one dared to actually mock her, even if they wanted to.

She was nothing like Victoria, whose quiet nature made her an easy target-when people taunted Victoria, she never fought back, just sat there and took it. That softness made her easy to push around. After all, the only reason anyone dared to publicly humiliate Victoria was because they sensed she lacked the nerve to stand up for herself; she was the kind of woman who, even after getting married, was whispered about for supposed romantic entanglements outside her marriage.

But Ailie? Nobody in their right mind would pick a fight with her.

"Don't bother, I'll switch seats," McNeil said suddenly. He got up, took Violet's hand, and led her to the far end of the table, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and Victoria and Curtis.

He looked for all the world as if he was disgusted by what had just happened. As he sat down, he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Violet. "Hold onto this for me. I'll need it dry-cleaned tomorrow."

Violet took the jacket, giving him a gentle, affectionate look. "I think you have a spare in the car. I'll go grab it for you."

not making a fuss, and started eating the grilled meat Victoria had just finished

yanked earlier. She was on the verge of tears-not because she wanted pity, or because she was trying to get McNeil's attention, like everyone seemed to assume. It was just her rotten luck running

concern obvious. With her hair down, Victoria looked softer, more alluring. The mountain breeze played with her hair, carrying a sweet scent with it,

touching the spot on her head where she'd been hurt. But before

drinking, and quietly watching the drama unfold. Lunch was a laid-back affair: grilled meat, beer,

pulled his hand back. Victoria wasn't divorced yet;

couldn't help but notice how strange it looked-McNeil in his black windbreaker, standing next to Violet, the two of them clearly dressed like a couple. But Violet's spare jacket was silver-grey, matching the one Victoria wore. A fleeting moment of surprise crossed Violet's face when she realized. McNeil didn't seem to care. "Let's go," he

men hoisted lightweight tents onto their backs,

a true test of survival: hike over the mountain, camp out in the