The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 612

"Oh."

Gwyneth's mind went blank, so she let him take the lead, simply following along with whatever he had in mind.

Hawthorne drove her to his sleek sports car, then pulled up in front of what he'd described as a dressmaker's atelier. Gwyneth had expected some kind of upscale department store, but instead they arrived at a picturesque manor house, surrounded by tranquil water, its classic architecture exuding a timeless charm.

He pushed open a half-closed door. Inside, dozens of seamstresses in elegant fitted dresses, their hair neatly pinned, were bent intently over their work. Even as guests entered, not a single one looked up from their delicate stitching.

Gwyneth was awestruck by the precision in their every movement. She'd barely had time to take it all in before a woman hurried over, her expression instantly turning warm and deferential the moment she spotted Hawthorne.

"Mr. Everhart, what a surprise to see you here."

Hawthorne's tone was calm and unhurried. "I'm here to help my wife pick out a couple of dresses."

looked to be in her early thirties,

a fellow woman, couldn't help but steal a few admiring glances-she carried herself with a striking confidence, her hourglass silhouette

Gwyneth, but her

only have to call. There's no need to come in person—I could have sent the collection straight to

replied. "I wanted to bring her here myself,

they walked further inside, the

Hawthorne would choose. She looked barely out of college, and these days, the most eligible men always seemed drawn to well-educated, beautiful young women to

way, Mr. and Mrs.

overwhelming-rows upon rows of dresses in every style imaginable. Gwyneth reached out to touch one, surprised at the luxurious feel of the silk-cool and smooth under her fingers. There were even winter designs, trimmed with soft fox fur

gowns, sparkling with ostentatious rhinestones.

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