The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 571

Victoria took the long box, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.

Usually, first-time visitors would bring the typical fare-some generic health supplements or expensive tonics. But this man's gift was a mystery, tightly wrapped and giving away nothing.

"It's just a small gesture," Hawthorne said simply, offering no further explanation.

Gwyneth's heart skipped a beat when she caught sight of the box.

"Well, I won't stand on ceremony, then," Victoria replied, curiosity piqued. She was eager to see what kind of present the man who had safely escorted her daughter home had prepared.

The moment Victoria opened the box, she was stunned.

Inside was a landscape painting. As she carefully unrolled it, her eyes landed on the signature at the bottom-and tears welled up instantly.

This was it. The last of her mother's keepsakes the one she had searched for through endless towns and cities, always coming up empty-handed. Never did she imagine it would find its way back to her today.

"What is this?" she asked, voice trembling.

Hawthorne's villa-a priceless original by her grandmother. She'd been quietly longing to bring it home, and now, here it was, delivered right

given it to her. That could

Of all the things she'd longed for over the years, nothing mattered more

So he'd known who she was

looking at this painting when she visited my place the other day," he said, glancing coolly in her direction. "In fact, she was rather... furtive

help but retort, "I was not! I was perfectly

was Langford. Not many people would casually offer to buy my nephew's mother's painting for a small fortune. I

accidentally let it

attention shifted from Gwyneth's fondness for her grandmother's art to a certain word Hawthorne had

shot up an octave, nearly

the first time she'd lost her composure in front of her children. The look she gave Hawthorne could have shredded him on the

all these years, only for her to be whisked away by someone else-equal parts heartbreak and outrage. Celia turned to Gwyneth, lips pursed.

opened her mouth, but the words tangled hopelessly. She hadn't left home for Hawthorne,

like that—" she

who had