The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 300

Gwyneth reluctantly sat beside McNeil as the car pulled away from the curb. The moment they were in motion, McNeil's knee-whether by accident or design- brushed against Victoria's.

Without drawing attention, Victoria edged herself away. It didn't matter; within minutes, McNeil had shifted back, closing the gap.

Irritation simmered in her chest. McNeil sat upright, acting as if nothing had happened, occasionally making small talk with Gwyneth, but ignoring Victoria completely.

For Gwyneth, this was a rare visit with her mother. She'd hoped to wedge herself between Victoria and McNeil, maybe snuggle up to her mom and chat along the ride. Instead, McNeil had plucked her away like a kitten and set her on the opposite side. All the way to the old manor, Gwyneth kept craning her neck, trying to catch Victoria's eye, while Victoria stared straight ahead, ignoring her daughter's silent pleas.

After several failed attempts, Gwyneth voiced her protest, but McNeil pretended not to hear.

When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of Langford Mansion, Gwyneth hopped out, visibly frustrated.

Victoria followed, and Gwyneth immediately ran over, grabbing her hand and refusing to let go.

"Mommy..."

She was her mother-so why should Daddy get to keep her all to himself?

Victoria squeezed Gwyneth's small fingers, and Gwyneth looked up. "Mommy, that race car model you had is that for Mr. Clark? Not for Max, right?"

Max had become a thorn in Gwyneth's side, as if he might swoop in and steal Victoria away at any moment.

didn't quite follow her daughter's line of

by, feigning indifference while listening intently to every word between

of the housekeepers came out to greet them. It had been months since both the

his wife, and

his eyes softened at the sight of Victoria-relief and comfort flickering

don't send someone to drag you home? Planning to wait until I'm dead to

first. When the old man looked pointedly at her, she finally offered a

her for a long moment before sighing. "Well, you're back. Married couples fight and make up-it's part of life. Don't

served, Gwyneth clung to Victoria like a barnacle, determined not to let her

too. Can you

it was too hot, she made Victoria blow on it; if it was cold, she insisted it be sent back

the meal, Victoria barely touched her own plate, busy tending

as they ate; Victoria

sat at the far end of the table, keeping her distance from mother and daughter. Gwyneth had never warmed to her grandmother, but she was affectionate with the old man, answering every question with earnest seriousness. When they arrived, she'd greeted him with a chirpy "Great-Grandpa!"—which

longer the spirited conversationalist she once was. She'd grown withdrawn, indifferent

dinner, the old man summoned the young couple to

are your plans? You can't expect

the old man's usual routine: every time they came for dinner, he'd press them for a second

to find it endearing-it meant he genuinely wanted her to be part of the Langford legacy. Now, it felt

was the family line. Who bore