The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 566

If this had been back in Greenvale, Hawthorne would never have agreed to such an invitation. But Victoria's sharp gaze pinned him in place, a look that felt equal parts threat and scrutiny, as if she were silently weighing whether he was safe enough to be around Gwyneth.

He'd always been the one doing the evaluating, not the other way around. Yet the Langford couple-Victoria and her husband—were clearly cut from the same cloth, making him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

Confronted by Victoria's face, he found himself suddenly at a loss for words.

She looked so much like Gwyneth that it was impossible to muster any real resentment.

"If you're willing to stay, that's fine. And if you aren't, I'll leave with you." Gwyneth blurted this out right in front of Victoria, who by all rights should have been upset -but instead, she looked as if she might laugh or cry.

Victoria grabbed Gwyneth's hand. “You just got home, and now you want to leave? Or is it you don't want us to have guests at all?"

Victoria was determined not to let Gwyneth slip away again.

Gwyneth looked at Hawthorne, hoping he'd say something.

"All right," he replied.

Gwyneth choked on her own disbelief. Was this really the same

to be just fine," Hawthorne said, leaving

spelled things out so clearly-if Gwyneth still didn't get it, she'd be letting down both her

bed and, in a voice soft yet tinged with childish indignation, called out, "Grandpa, how could you trick your

Gwyneth, Victoria, and Hawthorne. The shrewdness in his gaze was barely concealed as he yawned. "Gwyn, you're still here? And Vicky's

speechless. How could her great-grandfather be like this? He was

"Mom-" Gwyneth started, wanting

her home. Victoria cleared her throat and, avoiding

it? Is there anything you particularly like to eat? I'll have something prepared right away," she said,

a faint, polite smile. "I'm not picky. I'll eat whatever's put

immediately pulled

love our seafood. I'm a decent cook-you really ought to try it. Gwyn, take care of our guest.

ef

ought to rest at home. When you're

quick escape, but Hawthorne called out,