The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 200

McNeil let Simms' words hang in the air, refusing to play along.

After seeing Simms and the others out of the hospital, his phone buzzed with a call from Gwyneth's kindergarten teacher.

"Mr. McNeil, is everything all right at home? Gwyneth's been crying nonstop in class today. She hasn't stopped for a moment, and nothing we do seems to help. Would you mind picking her up early?"

The teacher sounded helpless. Lately, Gwyneth's emotions had been all over the place-she'd get distracted during lessons, constantly asking to go home. The teacher had finally put her foot down, telling Gwyneth that even if her parents called in, she couldn't skip school whenever she wanted. Only then had Gwyneth stopped pestering her.

But after Violet's accident at the racetrack, Gwyneth couldn't focus at all. The worry gnawed at her until, in the middle of class, she broke down in tears-tears no amount of comforting could stop. With nowhere else to turn, the teacher called McNeil.

McNeil couldn't leave the hospital-he needed to stay by Violet's side-so he sent the driver to pick Gwyneth up.

When Gwyneth finally arrived at the hospital, Violet happened to be awake. The moment she saw Violet, Gwyneth rushed over, her face crumpling with relief and worry.

"Violet, are you okay? I saw all those doctors carrying you away..."

been terrified she'd never see Violet again, her heart in her throat all morning. Only when she saw Violet safe and sound did

for making

phone rang again, and he stepped outside to

from her hospital bed

really let you down out there, didn't I? I was

was lucky it wasn't worse. For a moment there, panic had nearly overwhelmed

driver take off her

circuit, there was only one other female driver who could possibly be there: the real

people realized Violet had been racing under her

the reputation she'd fought so hard to build on her own, would suddenly become nothing more than a footnote to Vivian's fame.

little at first, but now, with McNeil in her life, she didn't need

Marchand, it wasn't your fault. I saw it

certainty. She'd seen every detail: Ms. Marchand was just about to cross the finish line when a blue car shot ahead. Gwyneth wasn't sure exactly what happened, but somehow, Ms.

to be that woman's fault-she must have cheated and ruined