The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 100

Victoria mostly just chatted with her, and every time she tried to invite Victoria to McNeil’s estate, Victoria would find an excuse to hang up.

After a while, for the sake of the game, Gwyneth didn’t even dare mention her mother coming home.

In truth, Gwyneth spent most of her time at Winding Peak Lane. She’d put on a pitiful face in front of Victoria, but the moment Victoria left, she would cozy up to Violet, laughing and carrying on as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

McNeil was with them every day. As for Victoria—he hardly thought of her anymore.

Before long, it was time for Janice’s birthday. Early that morning, Simms called Victoria, urging her to come by early, and sent her the address.

Victoria was certain Simms would bring Yulia along. What she couldn’t figure out was why she had to attend Janice’s birthday at all—after all, in over twenty years, she’d seen the old woman less than three times.

“Ms. Turner, would you like me to go with you?” Yasmine offered.

“You can wait for me in the car,” Victoria replied.

If anything felt off, she could just leave—no big deal.

She brought along a jade ring she’d bought at auction for a small fortune. Yasmine had dug up a little box from who-knows-where, something that looked like it had come from a dollar store, the kind you get three for ten bucks.

A nearly priceless piece of jewelry, relegated to such a humble box—well, it was unlikely the old lady would even notice.

Victoria slipped the ring into her pocket without a word, as if it were nothing.

She followed the address Simms gave her and soon arrived at an imposing three-story mansion, complete with fountains, rock gardens, and lush greenery everywhere.

Victoria couldn’t help a small, wry smile. She still remembered the first time she’d met Janice—it had been in a cramped, government-subsidized apartment.

Back in her youth, Janice had been a teacher—highly educated, they said, and even more proud. Though her family was poor, she always wore a look of disdain, as if everyone around her was beneath her—even Edith, the pampered heiress, didn’t escape her scorn.

“I’m Simms’ daughter,” Victoria said quietly.

The servant froze, but Victoria had already stepped into the entrance hall.

The place was packed with guests. Janice sat in the center, dressed in an ornate brocade jacket, cheeks flushed, looking every bit the matriarch—no one would guess she was over eighty.

“Are you Victoria?” someone called.

Victoria was glancing around, hoping to slip into an inconspicuous seat, when a well-dressed woman with features strikingly similar to Simms approached her, smiling warmly.

Victoria racked her brain, trying to place her, but before she could say anything, the woman had taken her hand affectionately.

“I’m your aunt! Your father told me you were coming, and asked me to look after you. I used to hold you when you were little—don’t you remember?”