The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

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?"

herself into the office

Did you see K? What did he say? Is he as eccentric as

was, George had never

been played for hours with nothing to show for it, so she just shook her

and abruptly fell silent. Now that the quarrel

coding at her desk. After work, she headed back to K's apartment complex, making a stop at

floor. This time, she just rang the doorbell. K

he greeted

she saw the state of his living room.

again. K was sprawled out, surrounded by Lego bricks and collectible figurines, none of which seemed to have a place. Honestly, his habits were

resigned sigh, Victoria started

bland noodles tonight. Her cooking skills, honed during her years abroad when she couldn't stomach local food, didn't disappoint. Back then, Lyndon and the others had gotten to know her by coming over for her home- cooked meals, and through their shared obsession with racing, they'd eventually

aside from 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 she'd cooked for McNeil was when he was sick,

four dishes and a hearty soup. If she hadn't already eaten before coming, the delicious smells would have

gaming until the

growling. He didn't say a word,

finished another night of chores, it was late