The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 664

Chapter 664

It was barely past five in the afternoon when Gwyneth checked the time.

She figured Hawthorne was either still at the office or out at some business dinner. Last night, he hadn't come home until she'd already fallen asleep-either he was swamped with work, or he was hiding something from her.

"I'm here. Waiting for you to have dinner," he said.

They'd missed lunch together-she hadn't wanted the hotpot he'd suggested-so surely they could at least share dinner tonight.

A faint guilt crept up in Gwyneth's heart for having turned him down earlier. That guilt only grew when, at the mall today, she overheard someone gossiping about 'Mrs. Everhart' using 'Mr. Everhart's' card to buy jewelry. She'd meant to ask him about it, but when she finally saw him, she couldn't bring herself to bring it up.

"Oh," she replied, looking away.

She was still carrying the diamond necklace she'd bought at the jewelry store. Hawthorne noticed and casually took the shopping bag from her hand.

"Been shopping?" he asked, as if it were nothing at all. The question made Gwyneth feel oddly awkward.

"Yeah. Didn't you get a text notification on your phone?" She'd used his card, so he'd surely have gotten an alert.

interested in these things—what made you buy jewelry

out the receipt and glanced at the price-thirty-eight thousand. For someone like Gwyneth, that was unusually low for her taste. It didn't quite

planned to interrogate Hawthorne, but now she felt like

necklace and liked it, so I bought it. Is that... a problem?" She looked at Hawthorne, her eyes defiant, as if daring

his finger under her chin, tilting her face

hiding something

clear he had nothing to hide. Gwyneth suddenly felt she was

the others, and when I saw them all buying something, I felt awkward not joining in. So I picked something at

flimsy,

to expose her white lie-he was actually relieved. So it was only a coincidence; for a

yet in the

Hawthorne slipped his phone to silent mode when Gwyneth wasn't

the housekeeper brought in a silver candleholder and a plate of sliced fruit, setting

his computer, catching up on work he hadn't finished during the day. Meanwhile, Gwyneth took out her art supplies and returned to her painting-she'd been working all week on a scene of the garden's

so often, Hawthorne would pause his work to watch her-there was something about

expression that filled

emptiness inside him.

minutes later, Hawthorne's phone buzzed across

message