The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 329

Mrs. Nelson was so startled by what she’d just heard that her fork slipped from her hand and clattered onto her plate. Even though she hadn’t caught most of the conversation, the phrase “seducing your sister-in-law” rang out loud and clear.

Madonna caught it, too. She slapped her palm on the table, stood up abruptly, and glared daggers at Victoria.

“Victoria, what’s your problem? Wasn’t it enough that you messed with McNeil? Now that your own husband doesn’t want you, you’re after our Paul?”

Victoria’s face froze for a second; she was clearly annoyed at being accused of something so ridiculous.

She picked up a napkin and, with deliberate calm, dabbed at her fingertips. “And who’s seducing whom, exactly?”

Paul’s face flushed a deep red—assuming she was talking to him, he blurted out a confession.

“It was me. I tried to seduce her.”

“Nobody asked you.”

Mrs. Nelson, Madonna, and McNeil snapped in unison, their faces twisted in anger.

Paul, who’d half-risen from his seat in his eagerness to confess, immediately sank back down, looking like a guilty defendant in a trial—only, this time, it seemed the gun wasn’t pointed at him.

Victoria looked around the table, her tone cool. “So, is this some kind of inquisition?”

McNeil’s expression darkened. After a tense pause, he answered, “No. I just wanted you to meet the family, so no one tries to take advantage of you.”

Paul slumped in his chair, grumbling, “How was I supposed to know Victoria was your wife? You never introduced her. I thought you were single.”

Under the table, Mrs. Nelson kicked her son’s shin. “That’s enough out of you.”

Madonna jumped in, “Who’s to blame for that? If you were presentable, maybe McNeil would have brought her around. Honestly, it makes sense he didn’t.”

Victoria remained silent. There was no point in arguing. She wasn’t here to prove she was Mrs. Langford; maybe she’d cared about that once, but not anymore.

Madonna, however, was having none of it. “No way. McNeil, what do you mean, sending Paul to work in some company to teach Victoria? Gwyn’s still so young—she needs her mother. If Victoria’s working, who’s going to look after the child?”

Of course Madonna opposed it; she was hoping Victoria would divorce her son sooner rather than later. Word was, the two had already split and Victoria had moved out. Why were they back together again? Clearly Violet was useless—she couldn’t even keep her own son loyal.

Victoria cut in, her tone icy. “I’m not a nanny. If you’re so worried, you’re her grandmother. Gwyneth can stay with you.”

Gwyn, who’d been happily munching on her favorite food, looked up with her mouth full and announced, “I’m not staying with Grandma. She’s like the wicked witch on TV.”

Madonna exploded. “Victoria, is this how you raise your daughter?”

“Enough,” McNeil interrupted.

He slammed his fork down, pulled Victoria to her feet, and said, “We weren’t here for dinner anyway. Paul, report to Quantum Core Technologies tomorrow. One hour in the tech department, and I’ll be there to supervise.”

With that, he scooped up his daughter in one arm, took Victoria’s hand with the other, and strode out of the dining room without another word.