The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 151

Victoria breathed in the familiar scent clinging to him—a fragrance she’d once craved in his arms. McNeil was still McNeil. But for the first time, confronted with his wild intensity, his intoxicating, overwhelming hunger, she felt absolutely nothing.

Tonight, emboldened by alcohol, McNeil didn’t bother asking what she wanted. He swept her up into his arms, ignoring her frantic struggles. No matter how hard she fought, his grip was ironclad, unyielding.

He carried her to the warm bed, tossed her onto the mattress, and pinned her down beneath him, leaving her no room to move.

“McNeil, I don’t want this—you know you could go to jail for what you’re doing,” Victoria warned, her voice trembling.

But McNeil didn’t care. His body pressed against hers, hard and insistent, as he fumbled with his shirt buttons. He was determined to have her, no matter her protests, intent on making her surrender.

Victoria’s dark hair spilled across the pillow like silk. In her struggle, he tore her camisole, exposing pale, flawless skin. He seized her wrists, locking them above her head. Breathless, her cheeks flushed, her lips—already bruised and swollen from his kisses—looked even more irresistibly tempting.

“Victoria, don’t forget—you’re still my wife. As long as we don’t have divorce papers, I have every right to fulfill my duties as your husband.”

His desire flared, and the thought of Victoria yielding like this to the man she now lived with—of her surrendering to someone else—drove McNeil mad with jealousy. The urge to claim her, to possess her completely, was overwhelming.

Curtis had said McNeil didn’t appreciate what he had in Victoria.

But McNeil scoffed at that. He knew her, inside and out—knew exactly what made her special.

And now, jealousy gnawed at him.

“The way you dressed at the game launch—don’t tell me you weren’t trying to seduce me. Victoria, after six years, is there anyone who knows you better than I do? If you want to leave, then leave for real. Stop playing hard to get—unless you want to play for keeps. Isn’t that right?”

He deliberately twisted her actions into something shameful. Victoria stared up at him, seeing that wild, possessive fire burning ever brighter in his eyes. Suddenly, it hit her.

McNeil had only ever wanted to possess her, to use her. He never loved her.

He cherished Violet—protected her, was gentle, attentive to her every need.

But for Victoria, there was only raw, naked desire.

A wave of sorrow washed over Victoria. Some people, it seemed, could effortlessly gain what others spent their whole lives chasing in vain.

“Mrs. McNeil,” she greeted automatically.

Victoria stared at her, making no effort to correct the old habit.

“Do you have any cash on you?” she asked quietly.

The next morning, McNeil woke and reached out, expecting to find Victoria beside him. But the bed was cold and empty.

He sat up, unconcerned at first, until he noticed a handful of bills scattered on the floor. The room felt hollow.

Only then did it dawn on him: Victoria was gone.

He grabbed his phone. There was a single message from her, stark and final:

“Payment’s on the nightstand. We’re even now.”