The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Mr. Green always seemed so gentle and pleasant around her and her mom-just like Dad used to be with her.

But after more than a decade, everyone's lives and minds had changed in ways no one could've predicted.

"You know, the first time I met you, you gave off the same vibe-cold, distant, like you didn't care about anything. I barely ever heard you talk. But after you married my uncle, you were different."

Leonie wracked her brain, remembering how Gwyneth had once reminded her of that Connor guy, and Marcus too. No wonder they'd always seemed like old friends-birds of a feather, really.

Gwyneth, for once letting her guard down, touched her own cheek and tried to look innocent. "What's so different about me?"

She truly didn't think she'd changed at all. But if anyone could call her out, it was definitely Leonie.

"Seriously, you didn't notice? Or did nobody around you ever tell you? When I first got to know you, you were so distant. If I asked you five questions, you'd maybe answer one. You rationed your words like they were gold. Just like my uncle, honestly.

this thoughtful look on your face, but your lips would always curl up at the

grabbed the sides of her own mouth and pulled them up into a goofy grin, making crazy faces at Gwyneth until she burst out

come on, it wasn't that dramatic. I smiled before too, didn't

thought about it, the more she realized Leonie might not be wrong. She'd been the reason

and her great-aunt loving her so much—if Chris and Celia hadn't always clung to her as their big sister-she wasn't sure what

was the hope that, one day, her dad would wake up, reunite with her

not

were still tangled up together, laughing, when a calm, deep voice came from

got you two so

stopped, and Gwyneth, caught off balance, ended up half sprawled across her. She looked up to see a tall figure

man wore a faint smile, his black suit jacket draped over one arm. His straight nose was framed by a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. giving him a scholarly air that

she turned to Hawthorne. "Uncle, is that really