The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 114

With just a couple of sentences, Violet managed to twist everything Victoria had accomplished, stepping right over her and quietly relegating her to the role of subordinate. It was as if Victoria’s stellar presentation had only happened because Violet and Curtis had orchestrated it from behind the scenes.

Ailie was livid.

It was bad enough that Violet had stolen Victoria’s thunder and her project, but now she was brazenly claiming credit for Victoria’s hard work, right in front of everyone.

The crowd snapped out of their admiration for Victoria, their applause faltering as Violet spoke.

So that’s how it was—a mere assistant couldn’t possibly pull off something like this on her own. Clearly, Violet, the real power player, had given her the go-ahead, and with Mr. Garcia’s support, Victoria was just a mouthpiece.

Just moments ago, everyone had been thoroughly impressed by the poised assistant’s analysis of AI’s future and the tech industry’s prospects. She’d even suggested several investment opportunities that Quantum Core Technologies hadn’t yet explored. Now, though, the consensus shifted: no matter how competent Victoria seemed, she was still just an executor. With Violet, the financial prodigy, and Curtis, the relentless workhorse, at the helm, Victoria’s striking presence was probably the main reason she’d been chosen to deliver the speech.

The applause faded, and with it, Victoria’s mystique.

Ailie swore that if she had any excuse to slap Violet right now, she wouldn’t hesitate to give her a good smack, twice over.

Victoria, however, showed no hint of surprise or embarrassment at Violet’s remarks. She simply responded with a confident, elegant “Thank you” into the microphone, then slipped offstage with poise, the spotlight glinting off her as she exited.

For a brief, dazzling moment, Victoria had been the center of attention, like a shooting star. Now, she faded quietly from view as the crowd drifted back toward Violet.

Only Simms kept glancing after Victoria, his thoughts unreadable.

As the evening wound down, Curtis made his way over, intending to offer Victoria a ride home.

But Violet intercepted him.

Curtis hesitated.

Ailie’s sarcasm was palpable. “Don’t worry about us. Victoria and I have our own ride. No need to bum a lift from Mr. Garcia. Though I am curious—where’s your doting boyfriend, Ms. Marchand? Didn’t he want to come with you tonight? Or is he finally tired of playing chauffeur?”

Ailie’s words were always sharp, and Curtis shot her a puzzled look. Her tone with Violet was odd—McNeil had a solid reputation among their circle, so why did Ailie sound as if she had some personal score to settle with Violet, almost as if she and McNeil had history?

Victoria gently tugged Ailie’s sleeve, quietly urging her to stop.

Violet smiled coolly, her reply clearly meant for Victoria’s ears.

“Yes, my boyfriend’s not feeling well tonight, but he insisted that I ride home with Mr. Garcia. He just doesn’t trust me with any other man behind the wheel.”