The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 339

McNeil watched Victoria, noting the way she leaned in, focused and intent—so at ease with Paul, so utterly normal. But for some reason, every time he looked at them together, a violent urge flickered inside him.

He fished a cigarette from his pocket, but, unable to light it in the office, just let it hang between his lips.

He could have gone to the smoking area. But Paul was still there, with Victoria. He didn’t trust that combination. Not one bit.

Even the smallest smile from Victoria made McNeil want to tear Paul limb from limb.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking through his simmering thoughts. He checked the screen. Violet.

“Yeah?” McNeil answered, making no effort to step away from the others.

“McNeil, I’m being discharged today. Are you coming to pick me up?” Violet’s voice was soft, hopeful.

“I’ll send someone for you,” he replied, his tone flat.

There was a pause on the other end, and then, as if afraid he’d hang up, Violet pressed, “But… aren’t you coming yourself?”

Paul’s voice drifted over, clear enough to carry through the phone. “Victoria, could you show me that again?”

Victoria chimed in, eager and attentive, asking for guidance as well.

Violet heard every word.

“Who are you with?” she asked, though she already suspected.

McNeil didn’t bother to hide it. “Victoria.” He left out Paul—no need to mention someone Violet didn’t know.

Violet bit her lip, her voice trembling on the edge of tears. “So… you’re too busy with her to come get me, is that it?”

She hadn’t meant to ask, but the words spilled out anyway.

McNeil’s brow creased, irritation tightening his features. “You’re overthinking it. I’ve got things to do. I’m hanging up now.”

He didn’t bother to explain further, just ended the call.

Whatever Paul and Victoria had just talked about, McNeil had missed it, distracted by Violet’s call. He stood off to the side, watching the two of them, convinced there was some secret, flirtatious understanding flickering between their eyes.

Were they plotting a date right under his nose?

His cousin Paul was young, good-looking—almost too good-looking, with features so striking they could outshine most women.

And Victoria? Just last night, she’d been the life of the party, surrounded by handsome men, moving her body with a confidence and allure McNeil hadn’t known she possessed. He’d never forget the sight of her dancing—sexy, uninhibited, impossible to look away from.

If he hadn’t been so furious last night, he would have dragged her straight to bed and made her his, over and over.

The memory sent his mind spinning, his thoughts slipping in directions they shouldn’t.

His phone buzzed again—Violet, once more. This time, he silenced it and shoved it deep into his pocket, ignoring it completely.

“That’s it, time’s up for today,” McNeil said, glancing at his watch, his voice cool and controlled. “How much longer do we have?”

She was still lost in thought when a wave of nausea twisted her stomach.

Victoria winced. Great, morning sickness again.

Of all times, now—just when life was getting interesting. Last night, after Ailie got home, she’d called Victoria, laughing and swearing at her in the same breath. The party had been wild, right up until the police raid; she and Yasmine had nearly jumped out a window in panic.

Thank god the cops only rounded up the guys. If they’d dragged her off, she would never have shown her face at work again.

McNeil shot her a quick, reluctant glance and finally stepped aside.

He noticed something off about her. Was she really so unwilling to be near him?

The thought lodged itself in his throat, thick and heavy.

Victoria hurried out, clutching her things, desperate to make it to the bathroom before she threw up.

McNeil called after her, voice tight. “Victoria, do you really hate me that much?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, clamping a hand over her mouth. “I’m about to be sick.”

McNeil stared after her, speechless.

The phone in his hand cracked under the pressure of his grip.