The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 567

How could he even ask that? Was he genuinely curious, or just looking for a way to mock him?

Hawthorne slowed his pace, a restless energy radiating off him. Gwyneth noticed, glancing at him with a puzzled look.

Their eyes met, and the hatred burning in Hawthorne's gaze gradually faded.

"She passed away many years ago," he said at last, forcing down all emotion until his tone turned calm and steady.

After all, it was McNeil who'd tried to wipe out the Everhart family back then. Hawthorne knew the Langfords and the Everharts had once been close, even friends. What he couldn't understand was why McNeil had chosen such ruthless tactics.

Thorpe let out a heavy sigh. "So many people from our past have gone. And somehow, I'm the useless old man left behind."

Some old memory seemed to flicker in Thorpe's expression, a hint of sorrow crossing his wrinkled face. He nodded, eyes resting on Hawthorne.

"If I live long enough to make it back to Greenvale," Thorpe said quietly, "take me

to see your grandfather's memorial. The old friends haven't seen each other in years, and those of us who are left have no one left to talk to."

There was nothing theatrical in Thorpe's sorrow; it rang true. Hawthorne's reply was cool, almost indifferent.

"We'll see."

with Hawthorne standing there, she held her tongue and simply

lagged behind, watching as Hawthorne followed Gwyneth at a steady distance.

if he was a little older than their Gwyn, well,

already waiting to take Thorpe back to the family

cane, gesturing at Gwyneth and Hawthorne. "Come with

still sulking.

fell. “Come

season-your favorite! I've had a whole basket picked just for you,

from just scooping Gwyneth

"Great-granddad, don't make a fuss. You head

her arm. "Don't try to trick this old man. If I let go, what if you

help but laugh, exasperated, but she had no idea

him she

like to try some of that peach wine you make

he was young,

used to talk

making wine with spring peaches. Every time he brought it up, he'd smack his lips like he was half-drunk without

Hawthorne Everhart. I'll leave my great-granddaughter in your hands, then. I'll be waiting for you

headed. After so many years,

the other wide awake but wishing she could escape into dreams. What a cruel