The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 268

The next morning, Victoria woke to find her daughter still sound asleep beside her.

Her whole body ached, as if she'd spent the night tied up in knots. Nothing felt quite right.

Downstairs, the clatter of plates and silverware drifted up from the kitchen—house staff busy setting the breakfast table. A glance at the clock told her it was already seven.

She noticed there was no sound of a car engine in the driveway. Did that mean McNeil hadn't left yet? He always made a point to leave for the office before seven, especially if she was home—he never took Gwyneth to school himself, so his mornings started early. In fact, Victoria couldn't recall the last time he'd actually had breakfast at home in the past six months.

She rushed through her morning routine, washed up, and hurried downstairs.

Sure enough, the staff were setting out three place settings in the dining room—McNeil planned to eat with them.

"Good morning, ma'am," the staff greeted her in turn. Victoria nodded, and just then, Xenia appeared at the stairs with Gwyneth in tow.

Victoria had barely taken her seat before Gwyneth scampered over, climbed into her lap, and snuggled close.

She'd intended to finish breakfast alone—anything to avoid sitting at the same table as McNeil.

"Mommy, I want some toast," Gwyneth said, her words clear and confident, unlike her mumbled speech yesterday.

Victoria noticed the swelling in her daughter's face had gone down, her features back to normal.

"Alright, but did you brush your teeth?"

Just last night, while checking Gwyneth's teeth, she'd found two cavities. Thankfully, her daughter was almost at the age to lose her baby teeth, so it wasn't a huge worry yet—but Victoria had started supervising Gwyneth's brushing much more closely.

"Ma'am, Miss Gwyneth asked to brush her teeth all by herself this morning," Xenia chimed in, beaming. "She even squeezed out the toothpaste on her own."

Clearly, Gwyneth's resistance to brushing her teeth was no secret among the staff.

For a moment, surprise flickered across Victoria's face, but it quickly faded, replaced by a look of approval for her daughter.

"You're growing up, Gwyn. I'm proud of you."

She praised her without holding back.

"Mommy, I promise I won't eat candy before bed or skip brushing my teeth anymore," Gwyneth whispered.

Victoria ruffled her hair affectionately and helped her with breakfast.

Time was ticking. After this, she'd need to drive Gwyneth to school before heading to work at Quantum Core Technologies.

After five minutes at the table with Gwyneth, McNeil finally came downstairs.

He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his broad shoulders and athletic frame a testament to years of discipline and hard work.

"Good morning, sir," Xenia greeted him.

McNeil watched them with a neutral expression, saying nothing. He walked over, scooped up Gwyneth, kissed her on the cheek, and handed her to Victoria.

"I'm heading to work. Call me after you drop her off."

Victoria answered with a noncommittal "alright."

Their chilly exchange didn't go unnoticed—Xenia couldn't help but shake her head, having hoped the couple might finally be on better terms. But clearly, they were still "polite as strangers."

Each headed for their own car.

Gwyneth waved goodbye to her father. This time, she didn't ask him to take her to school, nor did she ask if he'd pick her up with her mom after school. She worried he might bring Violet along, and she didn't know what to do—she liked both Violet and her mom.

After dropping Gwyneth off at school, Victoria had Maynard return the car. She hailed a cab back to the company.

On the way, she texted McNeil to let him know Gwyneth had arrived at school safely. She didn't call, and he didn't respond.

Today was her official first day in the tech department.

To her surprise, the department manager himself greeted her at the entrance, with the entire team assembled for her arrival.

Victoria knew George, the manager, had always been critical of her. Seeing everyone gathered made her feel unexpectedly moved—she'd braced herself for a cold reception.

George welcomed her with a formal sense of ceremony, but his expression was far from warm.