The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 557

Her phone was right beside her. For the first time, she dialed Victoria Turner's number herself.

Victoria stared at the screen, momentarily frozen when she saw "Gwyneth" flash across the caller ID.

Celia was playing violin in the living room, the lilting notes filling the space. Not wanting to disturb the music or the call, Victoria quietly slipped out into the garden.

She glanced at the phone again, almost unable to believe Gwyn would call her at this hour.

With trembling fingers, she unlocked the screen. "Mom, it's me-Gwyn-"

She barely got the words out before her voice wavered, thick with emotion.

Victoria, always sensitive to her daughter's moods, instantly sensed something was wrong. "What is it, Gwyn? Has something happened?"

Just hearing her name spoken so gently shattered Gwyneth's composure. She fought hard to swallow her sobs, biting her lip so her mother wouldn't hear her crying.

On the other end, Victoria heard only silence and wondered if the call had dropped.

voice steady, as if nothing was wrong. "I'm okay. I'm doing well in Greenvale. I've made friends, and I found a great job. You don't need to worry about me. I just... I just wanted

words and held the phone away from her face,

she said, "Gwyn, when you've had enough time away, come home, sweetheart. Your dad misses you, and so do I. Auntie and Chris, and especially Celia-they're always asking when their big sister's

on Victoria most was always Gwyneth. Her daughter's thoughts and feelings were a

lively and stubborn, fiercely opinionated, loving and hating with equal passion. Even when she

Gwyneth gently, letting her make her

Gwyneth had been the least of Victoria's worries-she excelled at school and managed

since she was six, everything Gwyneth did seemed like she was trying to make up for something-as if she was forever atoning for a mistake no one blamed

of all,

accountable for an innocent

mistake.

as her mother, she felt powerless to

has ever blamed you. None of this is your

sum up her and McNeil's lives

might only have a few more months

wiped her tears away gently. "She is—she's practicing. I can