The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 532

Some of what she wrote was work-related, but most were her own reflections- jotted down and sketched out in the pages of her journal.

Gwyneth lost herself in doodling and writing, hours slipping by without her noticing.

Suddenly, she heard voices from downstairs—the housekeeper greeting someone at the door. She knew instantly it was her uncle coming home, and couldn't resist peeking out of her room.

Sure enough, it was Hawthorne. After a long day at work, he still looked unruffled, not a trace of fatigue on his face.

Gwyneth quickly ducked her head back inside.

"Good evening, sir..."

The butler and one of the maids helped Hawthorne out of his coat, hanging it neatly in the entryway.

He strode to the dining table and paused, frowning at the barely touched plates of food.

"Miss Langford didn't have dinner?"

That seemed the only explanation.

helpless look. "Miss Langford

she says she's full. I'll

the butler a

that, he sat down and

drew and painted, lost in her own world, until nearly four in the

only a few hours away. If she didn't get some

bedroom door. That's when she noticed a light still on in the study across

He really was a machine-working all day and

not to

morning, her alarm jerked her

work, and the bus ride

admired Greenvale, this city of steel and glass, where century-old manor houses were

no such residential pockets in the heart of the

her morning routine. She was probably already the talk of the office from yesterday—if she was late again, there'd be even more

in a crisp, clean outfit for work and headed downstairs for breakfast,

gear, his usually pale skin tinged

just finished a morning run. Gwyneth remembered how late he'd stayed up last night. How