The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 111

“Daddy—!”

The door swung open, and Gwyneth burst into the room like a whirlwind.

Violet jerked back just in time—if she’d hesitated a second longer, her lips would’ve met McNeil’s.

“Hey, Violet, what were you and Daddy just doing? Your face is all red!” Gwyneth piped up, her voice brimming with innocent curiosity.

Violet’s cheeks flushed even deeper. Kids really had no filter.

“Your dad’s not feeling well,” she explained, forcing a smile. “I was just giving him his medicine.”

Gwyneth seemed only half-convinced, but she just went, “Oh.” She was about to leap right into McNeil’s arms—luckily, Violet caught her in time, sparing his stitches from another mishap.

McNeil chatted quietly with his daughter for a moment, then looked over at Violet.

“Take Gwyn home to Winding Peak Lane,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m not feeling well enough to look after you both right now.”

Violet shook her head. “That’s exactly why I should stay,” she insisted. “Let me take care of you, McNeil. I’ll even share a room with Gwyneth if it makes things easier.”

The décor here was identical to their place on Winding Peak Lane; staying here felt no different than being at home.

“No,” McNeil replied, his voice brooking no argument.

—

Victoria had headed off to work at Quantum Core Technologies.

Passing by HR, she overheard someone mention that Violet had taken a leave of absence. She paid it no mind and settled at her desk, diving into work.

Ailie and the engineering team had already released her game’s stand-alone version in the app store, and now it was entering the final testing phase—just in time for Gwyneth’s birthday.

Later, while checking WhatsApp on her phone, Victoria noticed a string of missed calls from McNeil the previous night, right before she’d gone to his place. She hadn’t seen them at the time and hadn’t picked up a single one.

“Got it,” Victoria agreed.

—

Meanwhile, the Turner family sent over two outfits: a wedding dress McNeil had ordered for Victoria—now perfectly tailored—and a couture gown Victoria herself had purchased.

“Haley, have someone take the wedding dress to storage,” Victoria said after a cursory glance, leaving it for the staff to handle.

The custom-made cocktail dress she’d ordered from Paris a month ago, now laid out before her, instantly became her favorite.

Victoria declined Curtis’s offer to send a driver; she was just an assistant and didn’t want coworkers gossiping. Instead, she asked Yasmine to drive her to the hotel where Curtis was hosting the party—and she picked up Ailie on the way.

The luxury SUV glided to a stop in front of the hotel.

Yasmine opened the back door, and Victoria stepped out, her long, slender legs accentuated by black diamond-studded heels. The alabaster glow of her skin beneath the knee-length black dress caught the light, turning every head as she walked inside.