The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 331

Violet held her breath the entire cab ride to McNeil and Victoria’s house.

Night had just fallen, and the villa glowed with warm, inviting light.

Inside, McNeil and Victoria sat at the dining table with Gwyneth, the three of them sharing dinner. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, their harmony was on full display. Standing outside the gate, Violet could see everything—every smile, every gesture.

All the words of comfort McNeil had given her on the way over now felt hollow; watching them so happy together shattered her fragile hope in an instant.

Steeling herself, Violet pressed the doorbell. Xenia, the housekeeper, answered. The surprise on her face vanished quickly, replaced by a cold, stony expression.

“Who are you looking for?”

“McNeil—”

She barely got the name out before trying to step inside, but Xenia blocked her with the door.

“I’m sorry, sir and madam are having dinner. No interruptions. If you need to reach Mr. Langford, call his phone.”

With that, Xenia made no effort to hide her rudeness and moved to shut the door in Violet’s face.

Violet hadn’t expected the staff to be so blunt. She pushed at the door, frustration leaking into her voice. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Oh, I know. You’re the shameless one.”

The door slammed shut right in her face. Violet’s cheeks went bone white with rage. She pulled out her phone and dialed McNeil again, only to get the same result—his phone was still off.

For a second, she considered kicking the door in, but reason kept her frozen on the spot.

Inside, McNeil fussed over Victoria and Gwyneth, refilling glasses and passing dishes, utterly oblivious to Violet standing outside, her eyes burning with resentment.

She stayed there until her body was numb with cold, and only then did she finally turn away.

Inside, the little family remained blissfully unaware of anything amiss.

The next morning, McNeil drove Gwyneth to school, while Victoria picked out a car from the garage and headed to Quantum Core Technologies.

When she arrived at the tech department, she noticed a temporary office had been set up.

Earlier that morning, McNeil had called Curtis.

“I’ve got someone for you. Set him up with an office.”

Curtis frowned. “Another girlfriend of yours?”

“What do you think—some cranky professor? Bald, big belly?”

“Come on, that’d be a letdown. My money’s on a sharp middle-aged pro. You don’t get that good without at least a decade or two under your belt.”

As the speculation flew, Victoria just smiled to herself.

Paul must be hearing this, she thought. He was probably ready to jump out a window.

At nine on the dot, a string of department heads walked by with grim faces, while several female staffers dabbed at their eyes as they hurried past.

Word spread fast: for reasons unknown, Ms. Marchand had called in a group of managers and staff for a dressing-down first thing that morning. The work apparently wasn’t up to standard, and some of the women left in tears.

Victoria only listened with vague interest. Anything involving Violet was something she preferred not to dig into.

Half an hour later, Curtis and McNeil walked in, trailed by a group of executives.

In Violet’s office, her assistant came in with a quick report.

“Ms. Marchand, Mr. Langford is here.”