The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 330

Victoria didn’t let go of McNeil’s hand until they reached the front gate. “The show’s over. I can walk by myself.”

McNeil stood outside in the wind, holding Gwyneth in his arms, his face growing colder by the second.

Once they got in the car, Victoria and Gwyneth sat together in the backseat.

Through the rearview mirror, McNeil glanced at Victoria, but she turned her face away, staring out the window. In truth, there was nothing to see—just darkness pressing up against the glass.

When they arrived home, Victoria got out with Gwyneth without waiting for anyone to open the door.

McNeil followed them inside. As soon as they stepped into the living room, his phone began to ring. The caller ID said Violet.

Victoria’s steps faltered just a moment; she seemed to know who it was, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she went straight upstairs.

McNeil shoved his phone back into his pocket without answering.

Gwyneth looked up at him. “Daddy, who was that? Was it Violet?”

She hadn’t eaten enough at Grandma’s house, and if Violet was calling, maybe it meant they could go out and get something tasty.

McNeil ruffled her hair and called out to Xenia, the housekeeper. “Could you make something for my wife and daughter? And for me as well.”

Then he looked down at Gwyneth. “No, it wasn’t her. When Xenia finishes cooking, I’ll call you and Mommy downstairs to eat.”

He’d seen Victoria barely touch her food at Madonna’s house, and he himself hadn’t taken a single bite.

Meanwhile, Violet tried calling McNeil three more times, but no one picked up.

At the bar, Isaac knocked back a few drinks and eyed Violet. “What’s up?”

Violet forced a bright smile. “He’s probably busy.”

A few rounds in, Isaac lost any filter he had. “Busy, huh? Is he really busy, or just dodging your call? Marcus, why don’t you try calling him?”

Marcus shrugged. “Didn’t you just say he’s at home with his wife? I’ll pass.”

He looked over at Curtis. “Mr. Garcia, how about you?”

Curtis shot Marcus an indifferent look. “If you’re not calling, why should I?”

“Seriously? He really has a wife? He should bring her over sometime,” Isaac grumbled.

“Maybe next time. Not tonight.” McNeil hung up.

Isaac raised his eyebrows at Curtis and Marcus. They kept drinking. He asked, “Where’s Violet?”

Marcus replied drily, “You pissed her off. Go after her.”

Isaac snorted. “Why should I? You two used to like her, didn’t you? Why don’t you go?”

Curtis drained his glass, completely unfazed. “Who said I liked her? I’m not going.”

Marcus shook his head. “Don’t look at me. If you’re not going, I’m definitely not.”

The three men shared a silent agreement and went back to their drinks, while Violet stormed out of the bar, hand pressed to her mouth, frantically calling McNeil again and again.

All she got was an automated message: “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is unavailable. Please try again later.”