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.

bites and she says she's full. I'll

the butler a cool glance. "Alright, I

that, he sat down and

her art. She drew and painted, lost in her own world, until

no-she had to be in the office tomorrow. Dawn was only a few hours away. If

to close her bedroom door. That's when

a machine-working all day and still

not to dwell on

next morning, her

before work, and the bus ride to the office would

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

City, there'd be no such residential pockets in the heart of the business district, let alone old family estates or stubborn holdouts

probably already the talk of

outfit for work and headed downstairs for breakfast, glancing absentmindedly

his usually pale skin

remembered how late he'd stayed up last night. How could