The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge is the best current series by the author Lavender. The Chapter 321 content below will immerse us in a world of love and hatred, where characters use every trick to achieve their goals without concern for the other half—only to regret it later. Please read chapter Chapter 321 and stay updated with the next chapters of this series at nisfree.com.
Victoria’s smile sparkled, dazzling in the evening light as she stood before him. She didn’t answer Paul’s question—just looked at him, eyes bright with mischief.
“I won. So, are you going to keep your promise to me now?”
Paul found himself momentarily lost in her smile. If he hadn’t already been hopelessly infatuated with Vivian, he might have fallen for the woman standing before him right then and there.
He sighed, a little regretful. “Are you sure you don’t want to consider being my girlfriend? I’m not exactly a bad catch, you know.”
Victoria just laughed, the sound light and teasing. “I can keep coming over to cook and tidy up for you, Monday through Friday. But you have to give me an hour every day to teach me.”
She didn’t seem the least bit worried that Paul might back out in front of all these people. And honestly, he had no excuse to refuse.
“Deal. But I’m a tough teacher, you know. If you’re hopeless at this, I’m going to be strict. Don’t blame me if you end up in tears.”
He leaned a little closer, his voice dropping suggestively. “I’ve been waiting for your famous four-course dinners, you know. No more takeout to fob me off, alright?”
Just then, Victoria’s phone rang. Seeing McNeil’s name on the screen, she frowned.
Of course. He must have found out she’d left Gwyneth at the old house—and now he was calling to give her a piece of his mind.
She answered with barely concealed impatience.
“Where are you right now? I told you to look after Gwyn. It’s the weekend—you could have spent some time bonding. Instead, you dumped her at Grandpa’s. Victoria, do I even matter to you anymore?”
Victoria rolled her eyes at his accusation. “I’ve only been out for an hour or so. I’m heading back now.”
There was a brief silence. Then McNeil said, suddenly and coldly, “Call me ‘darling.’”
“…”
Victoria stared at her phone, momentarily stunned. What was that? They were already talking about divorce, and now he wanted her to call him ‘darling?’
Please.
“McNeil, are you out of your mind? Did you get your wires crossed? Maybe call the right person next time.”
With that, she hung up and shot him a text: On my way back.
Now that this little episode was over, she turned back to the man in front of her. With everything settled, she finally felt ready to go home and spend time with her daughter.
“K, I need to head back. See you next week.”
Tossing her glossy hair over her shoulder, Victoria opened the car door to leave, only to find Paul blocking her way.
“Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Paul Nelson. So, can you please stop calling me ‘K’? I’m not a playing card—and I’m definitely better looking.”
No reply. Paul stared at his phone, still a little dazed.
“Paul, everyone’s gone! What are you staring at? Was that the girl calling just now? It’s still early—why don’t we race a few more laps to warm up, then go out for drinks?”
One of the guys threw an arm around his shoulders, snapping him back to reality.
“Sure,” Paul said, not thinking much of it. He hopped in his car and tore down the empty road, engines roaring, lap after lap.
When they finally stopped, exhausted and breathless, Paul checked his watch. It had been two hours since McNeil said he’d be coming, but there was still no sign of him.
He tried calling, but no one answered. So he sent a message: When are you coming? We’re about to head out.
Ten minutes later, still nothing. Shrugging, Paul and his friends picked a place to grab a drink and drove off one by one.
Not long after Paul left, a black SUV pulled up quietly to the spot where they’d just been.
McNeil sat in the half-lowered window, his sharp, cold features lit by the streetlights. He’d been parked here for over half an hour, watching the oblivious boys race and fool around, none of them noticing him in the shadows.
He was just about to follow when his phone rang. It was Xenia, the housekeeper, calling from the villa.
“Sir, Mrs. Evans and Miss Gwyn are home. They said they want to have dinner at home tonight. Will you be joining them? If you are, I’ll set an extra place for you.”
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