The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 312

Chapter 312

Victoria glanced at her phone-it was already late. She barely knew this man, he certainly wasn't a child in need of looking after, and staying any longer just felt

inappropriate.

Quickly, she stood and apologized. K looked at her with a disarmingly innocent expression.

"If you have time tomorrow, could you come over again? I'd love to have your pasta," he said, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Sometimes, a man's pleading could be even more persuasive than a woman's. Victoria, who still needed his help, found herself nodding before she could think twice.

Downstairs, Yasmine was waiting in the car and nearly dozing off. As soon as she saw Victoria emerge, she hopped out to open the door for her.

"All set, Ms. Turner?" she asked.

Victoria hesitated at the question. Was everything really settled?

She'd been here four or five hours. All she'd accomplished was tidying up his place, making him a meal, and taking a nap. As for what she'd actually come to discuss-she'd gotten nowhere. She remembered K's promise: after a few rounds of his game, he'd talk with her. But one round stretched into another, and by the time night fell, they still hadn't spoken. In the end, she'd simply let him usher her out.

Yasmine could read her disappointment right away. "No luck, huh?"

"It's fine. I'll come back tomorrow," Victoria replied.

"Wait, what?"

dragged herself into the office the next day, yawning nonstop. George spotted her and

see K? What did he say? Is he as eccentric as they

had

hours with nothing to show for it, so she just

during that last meeting and abruptly fell silent. Now that the quarrel between her and her husband had passed, of course she'd

she headed back to K's apartment complex, making a stop at the market to restock his

flights again to his floor. This time, she just

on time," he greeted her with a sheepish

when she saw the state of his living room.

Lego bricks and collectible figurines, none of which seemed to have a place. Honestly,

a resigned sigh, Victoria started cleaning up after him

proper meal—no more bland noodles tonight. Her cooking skills, honed during her years abroad when she couldn't stomach local food, didn't disappoint. Back then,

all she'd done for McNeil during their marriage, she'd lived a pampered life-hardly ever setting foot in a kitchen. The last time

in no time at all, she'd prepared four dishes and a hearty soup. If she hadn't already eaten before coming, the delicious smells would have been

in his room gaming until the aroma

He didn't say a word, just sat down

finished another night of chores, it was late again—and she'd

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