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.

between them, though. In their world, unless there was some mutual benefit, people with different

wouldn't let go. He's even tried to ruin her career. Come on, Layne, help Gwyn out, will you?" Leonie pleaded, her tone sweet and coaxing. Layne

course. If you don't have any experience in jewelry design, that's fine-you can take your time and

his handsome features more reminiscent of the friendly boy next

He'd been the brightest spot in her childhood, though it had been years since they'd last seen each other. She wondered where

softly, just as a surprised voice came from the

Sir, Young

Mrs. Everhart off guard. Surprise flickered in

and thought, since my

so close, I'd drop in and mooch

the rain was still coming

gripped the umbrella handle, his fingers long and elegant. He gave the umbrella a slight

as their

sure why, but as someone who was used to

found her heart skip a

sharp and severe, his dark eyes brooding and intense-every bit as stormy as the clouds

calm, sure steps, his features becoming clearer the