The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 517

Gwyneth's first instinct was to refuse, but before she could get a word out, Leonie cheerfully agreed on her behalf.

"You said that Bill Crawford had blacklisted you, right? Don't worry, with the Everhart family backing you, there's no way he can mess with you here."

Leonie had never tolerated men who bullied women. She'd seen firsthand the sorry state of the guy who'd tricked her into that hiking trip-after her uncle was done lecturing him, he'd looked thoroughly chastised.

But Leonie didn't feel sorry for him. If she hadn't happened to run into Gwyneth that day, goodness knows what might have happened.

Gwyneth understood that being out of work didn't really bother her; she just didn't want Bill Crawford hounding her everywhere she went. The way he'd been obsessively searching for her made her worry that one day he'd dig up her family background.

Men like Bill were petty and vindictive. It wasn't about love he just couldn't stand losing.

Layne had overheard the conversation.

"Bill Crawford?"

In their social circle, the second-generation heirs who lived off their families looked down on those who worked hard, while the ambitious ones found the idle ones insufferable.

Bottom line, if you didn't share the same interests, you just didn't mix. Layne wasn't fond of Bill Crawford's type either.

world, unless there was some mutual benefit, people with different hobbies generally just

things off, but he just wouldn't let go. He's even tried to ruin her career. Come on, Layne, help Gwyn out, will you?" Leonie pleaded, her

have any experience in jewelry design, that's fine-you can take

was disarming, his handsome features more reminiscent of

she couldn't help but think of Max. He'd been the brightest spot in her childhood, though it had been years since they'd last seen each other. She wondered where he was

softly, just as

Sir, Young

catching Mr. and Mrs. Everhart off guard.

nearby and thought, since my

close, I'd drop in and

coming down, the sky gray and

fingers long and elegant. He gave the umbrella a slight shake to rid it of raindrops, and a housekeeper hurried over

turned just as their

but as someone who was used to being

skip a beat under Hawthorne's

in his usual classic black suit, his brows sharp and severe, his dark

in with calm, sure steps, his features becoming clearer the