The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 128

Victoria rose gracefully, completely ignoring McNeil’s offered hand.

"Sorry, I have something to take care of. Mr. Garcia, let’s catch up another time."

She had no patience for McNeil’s theatrics.

Violet placed her glass of water gently on the table, her voice cool and measured.

"Ms. Turner, what could be more important than dinner? As Mr. Garcia’s assistant, we were just about to discuss this game partnership. I hear you know a thing or two about programming. Why not join us, take notes while we talk business over the meal?"

She gave Victoria a pointed look. "After all, that’s part of an assistant’s job, isn’t it?"

Ailie nearly upended the steaming pot of tea the server had just brought—right over Violet’s smug head.

But basic decency made her hold back.

Curtis was about to argue that business talk should wait until after dinner, but Victoria simply sat back down.

"Fine," she said.

Ailie couldn’t help but snipe from the side. "A game partnership, huh? At the launch today, Ms. Marchand claimed she wrote the game herself. Does she even have the source code? How long did it take her?"

Ailie had watched Victoria pour endless days and nights into writing that game—originally meant as a gift for her own family. It was Ailie who’d convinced Victoria to bring it to the company, hoping to turn a profit. If she’d known Violet would swoop in and steal the credit, she would’ve rather let the game gather dust.

Violet smiled. "Actually, I didn’t write the game."

She admitted it so easily that Ailie was momentarily stunned.

Victoria sat quietly, giving no sign of surprise or intent to argue. She had no interest in claiming the spotlight now.

Just then, her phone rang. She stood up. "I’m sorry, Mr. Garcia. I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to be involved in this discussion. I’ll excuse myself."

It was a call from Lyndon—next week’s rally race was far more important to her than any company politics.

McNeil watched Victoria’s screen as she left, but the glare made it impossible to see anything.

"McNeil," Violet called softly, snapping him out of it.

"I’m planning to add another fifty-three million to the budget for this game," she announced, her smile wide. Curtis, for some reason, felt a heaviness settle in his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to celebrate.

"By the way," McNeil added, "you mentioned that this game was written by a talented young woman in your company. When can you introduce us?"

McNeil was a businessman—always interested in anything that could turn a profit, and he had a keen eye for talent.