The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 313

Still half-asleep, Victoria was jolted awake by a few sharp taps on her office window.

“Victoria. My office, now.”

Violet didn’t wait for a response, just turned and walked away, leaving Victoria no choice but to stand up and follow, her steps a little unsteady.

That man was just too much—she’d already decided there was no way she’d go to him again tonight. She needed a proper night’s sleep.

When she entered Violet’s office, Violet said coolly, “Close the door.”

Victoria didn’t budge. “If you have something to say, Ms. Marchand, just say it. There’s nothing here that others can’t hear.”

All this secrecy—she could already imagine the office rumor mill going into overdrive.

Victoria was tired of it. Somehow, she was always at the center of every bit of gossip in the company. Wasn’t everyone obsessed with Violet and McNeil before? When had she become public enemy number one?

Violet’s hand clenched tight around her pen. “Just a reminder to focus on your work. If you’re too tired to do your job, don’t bother showing up. Everyone here is working hard—what exactly are you doing?”

Victoria blinked, stunned. She was working herself to the bone too, she just didn’t parade it for everyone to see like Violet did, as if she was the only one putting in any effort.

“Victoria, a woman’s youth doesn’t last forever. If you waste it pleasing a man, I really don’t think you’re cut out for this job. If you want to be a strong, independent woman, start acting like one.”

She never mentioned McNeil by name, but Victoria could hear the accusation behind every word—Violet was blaming her for chasing after him.

What a joke. McNeil was the one who wouldn’t leave her alone. Victoria was about to fire back when suddenly Ailie burst in.

“There you are, Victoria—I’ve been looking everywhere. Ms. Marchand, is there a reason you needed Victoria?”

Ever since Ailie had called Violet a “washed-up diva” and somehow escaped being fired, Violet seemed to have a permanent chip on her shoulder around her. Now, seeing Ailie appear in her office unannounced, her expression soured even more.

Victoria smirked. “Ms. Marchand just wanted to remind me to focus on my work and stop trying to seduce men.”

It was the first time Victoria had ever thrown such a pointed barb at Violet, and Ailie jumped right in, a glint in her eye.

“Oh, Ms. Marchand’s talking about that time Victoria’s husband was showering during your office meeting, right? What, are you jealous because a married couple’s private life is none of your business?”

Violet’s face turned icy. Nothing good ever happened when Ailie showed up. How had she even gotten in here without an appointment?

Ailie, undeterred, pressed on. “That depends, Ms. Marchand—are you asking Victoria about work, or is this personal? If it’s company business, you’re right, it’s none of my business. But if you’re meddling in her private life, you’d better believe I have every right to say something.”

She was relentless, determined to give Violet a taste of her own medicine.

Victoria waited until Ailie had said her piece before stepping in. “Ms. Marchand, I have a lot of work to get through. If there’s nothing else, may I go?”

Violet was so angry she seemed to forget what she’d wanted to say. Ailie shot Victoria a look, grabbed her hand, and the two made their way to the door, eager to escape.

Just as Victoria reached the threshold, Violet found her voice.

“Victoria, there’s nothing more pathetic than a woman who uses her looks to get ahead. Don’t think for a second that just because McNeil can’t keep his hands off you, he’s planning to come back. He just wants your body.

You’ll always lose out to me. He’ll never truly love a woman like you—otherwise, why would he keep your marriage a secret for six years?”

Ailie nearly spun around and kicked the door off its hinges. Victoria held her back, looking at Violet with a calm, steady gaze.

“If he’s so wonderful, and you love him so much, and he loves you, then I wish you both a lifetime of happiness. But maybe you should ask him to hurry up—after all, he’s the one dragging his feet on the divorce.”