The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 168

Victoria retreated to her own room, hurrying straight into the bathroom to wash away the remnants of last night.

It had been a while since she and McNeil had been together, yet every time he saw her, it was as if he’d been holding back for ages.

She tried not to recall how intense he’d been that night in the cave. What truly surprised her was how he’d had protection on him, as if he’d expected it.

Did he always keep that sort of thing around for Violet’s sake?

Victoria quickly pushed the thought aside. She slipped out of her clothes and stepped beneath the shower, letting the water run down her body, but nothing could wash away the memory of McNeil’s passion.

Just then, her phone—left charging on the bathroom counter—buzzed with a robotic voice notification: “Five hundred thousand dollars received.”

She wiped the suds from her hands and picked up the phone. There was a new transaction message.

“If you ever need anything, I’m always available.”

Victoria’s eyes darkened. After a brief pause, she transferred the money into her savings account, then blocked the sender without hesitation.

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Meanwhile, in McNeil’s room, he stepped out of the bathroom and immediately noticed Victoria’s profile picture on his phone had gone gray. When he tried to message her, it bounced back with an exclamation mark.

Just then, Violet entered. McNeil finished buttoning his shirt while she watched him.

“Are you leaving?” she asked.

“The event’s over. I need to get back to the office.”

Violet pouted in protest. “Curtis just announced we could stay an extra day. There’s no rush.”

Fastening the last button, McNeil replied, “I can’t leave Gwyn home alone for too long.”

Violet hesitated, momentarily forgetting about the child. She forced a smile. “You’re right. We really should have brought her along. With Victoria here, it’s been ages since mother and daughter have seen each other. I’m not her real mom—no matter what, I’ll never be quite the same for Gwyn.”

McNeil jumped out to inspect the damage, with Violet and the others following close behind.

The Sprinter’s tires were different from those on a regular van—much larger and built to handle more weight.

McNeil and Curtis crouched by the front wheel, staring helplessly at the deflated tire.

“Great, a flat. Someone call for roadside assistance,” Ailie groaned, still shaken. “How does that even happen out of nowhere?”

Violet glanced at her, her voice calm. “We’re three hours from the city. Help won’t get here for at least that long.”

Ailie’s jaw dropped. As the rest of the convoy stopped, the other executives stepped out of their cars, surveying the scene.

“It’s not so bad,” Ailie tried to sound optimistic. “Don’t all cars have a spare? We just need to change it, right?”

The men fell silent, not daring to utter a word. Even McNeil and Curtis exchanged uneasy glances, saying nothing.