The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 322

A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of McNeil’s lips, the upward tilt betraying his good mood.

“Coming home,” he said, and ended the call.

On his way back, he passed by a flower shop and decided to pick up a bouquet.

When he arrived, Gwyneth was the first to greet him at the door.

“Wow, Daddy, the flowers are so pretty!”

She reached out, trying to grab them, but her little arms couldn’t even begin to wrap around the bouquet. McNeil dodged her tiny hands. “These are for your mom.”

He glanced around the hallway. “Where is she?”

“Mom’s in the kitchen. I told her I wanted chicken wings in cola sauce, and she said she’d make them for me.”

Gwyneth was beaming, still delighted from the game her mom had just played with her.

McNeil headed to the kitchen. The chicken wings were already set out on the table, but Victoria was nowhere to be seen.

Xenia happened to walk by as he stood there, still holding the bouquet.

“Where’s Mrs. McNeil?”

“She got a phone call and stepped out,” Xenia answered without hesitation.

McNeil’s face darkened instantly. Without a word, he tossed the bouquet straight into the trash and strode out of the house.

Gwyneth ran over to the table, thrilled to see her favorite chicken wings ready, but paused, watching her father’s retreating figure with confusion. “What’s wrong with Daddy?”

Xenia sighed. “Oh, what a mess.”

When the mister is away, the missus is down in the dumps. Now that she’s started ignoring him, he’s the one losing his mind. Those two are a pair of star-crossed lovers if I’ve ever seen one.

McNeil grabbed his car keys—no chauffeur this time—and peeled out of the driveway, engine roaring, leaving the household staff startled. They’d never seen him take the sports car instead of the company sedan.

He dialed Paul as he sped through the city.

Paul picked up, the background noisy.

“Send me the address. Now—”

One of Paul’s friends glanced at him, looking like he’d seen a ghost. “What’s up with you? Jumping out of your skin. Didn’t you just invite that woman over? Has she arrived?”

Paul shook his head, trying to play it cool, but his heart was pounding. “Not her. It’s my cousin.”

He had no idea why McNeil kept haunting him. He’d said he’d come by earlier and never showed. Now this—what was he up to?

Paul sent the address. A few minutes later, Victoria arrived.

Paul’s friends spotted her and let out a whistle. Victoria, unfazed, had changed into a flowing dress with a warm-colored cardigan, her long hair draped over her shoulders. She looked every bit the picture of gentle elegance.

“Hey, sis-in-law—”

The group greeted her with a chorus. Victoria just rolled her eyes.

Paul slid off his barstool. “Ignore them.”

Paul swallowed hard, eyes wide. This woman was a lot tougher than he’d imagined—not the demure type at all.

“Another round.”

Victoria slammed the empty bottle on the table, shrugged off her cardigan, and rolled up her sleeves.

Paul stared. “Wait, come on—”

“Scared?” Victoria challenged.

“Who’s scared? I’m not forcing you to drink—you’re the one asking for it.”

Victoria smiled coolly. “Enough talk.”

Soon, their dice game devolved into a drinking contest. Victoria’s cheeks flushed pink, and Paul lost four out of five rounds, downing glass after glass until the room started spinning.

“Hey, can we call it quits?” he pleaded, glancing at the friends who’d already passed out around them. For the first time, Paul actually regretted pushing her.

Victoria just grinned. “No way—I’m just getting—”

Before she could finish, she was yanked into someone’s arms. McNeil stood over the room, his expression thunderous as he surveyed the scene of drunken men slumped across the sofa.

His troublemaking cousin sat there, staring at the table with a look of utter defeat.

McNeil pulled Victoria down next to him, signaled the bartender to bring over two more six-packs, and fixed Paul with a glare that could kill.

“You like drinking? Fine. Drink with me.”