The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 378

Victoria surveyed the courtyard, now overflowing with piles of belongings. Just as she thought they were done, the enforcement officer pulled out yet another stack of inventory lists.

“Ms. Turner, I’m afraid you’ll have to verify these items yourself.”

The list was endless, so densely packed it made even the officer uneasy. Honestly, the man of this house had zero class—lavishing gifts on his mistress while his wife was left in the dark.

No wonder no one wants to get married anymore. You spend decades as someone’s unpaid maid, while the woman on the side just has to show up, take a shower, and walk away with a fortune. Serves men right if they end up alone.

Victoria took the list; every line was a record of Violet’s spending.

A bodyguard brought over a chair for Victoria to sit. He positioned it so she could face Violet directly while reading the list aloud.

“March fifth—hair dryer from an online store, four thousand dollars. March seventh—set of cocktail glasses, three thousand. March twenty-eighth—premium fruit from the supermarket: champagne grapes, cherries. And on March thirty-first at seven p.m.—several packs of sanitary pads.”

Victoria looked at Violet. “Ms. Marchand, are you planning to return all these items as they are, or would you prefer to reimburse us in cash?”

“…”

A maid standing nearby couldn’t help but stifle a giggle behind her hand.

“Mrs. Langford is brutal—she even wants the sanitary pads back?”

For the first time, Violet lost her composure and snapped, even swearing.

“Victoria, you need to get your damn head checked…”

Fine. She didn’t care anymore. She’d leave everything behind—the house, the furniture, all of it.

“If you’re so attached to the place I lived in for over a year, keep it. With my resources now, I can buy whatever I want. I don’t need handouts from McNeil.”

“The marriage certificate has my name and McNeil’s. Today, you’re not just walking out with the house. Even if you picked up a pin or a spool of thread from this place, you’ll be returning it.”

Violet’s lips went pale; she looked on the edge of collapse.

Yulia finally couldn’t stand it anymore. “Victoria, show a little mercy. Don’t go overboard. Violet has kept her distance ever since you two got married. She could have made her move when she came back from abroad, but she let McNeil stay with you. Don’t you have even a little gratitude?”

Victoria fixed Yulia with a level stare. “Gratitude? I should thank her for stealing my husband and pretending she didn’t want to ruin my family? For playing the victim while trying to worm her way into my home? Ms. Morris, you’re good at twisting the facts. Is adultery some kind of family tradition for you, or is it coded in your DNA? The nerve.”

Simms couldn’t lay a hand on Victoria, but that didn’t stop her from lashing out.

“You insolent brat! Is that any way to speak to Yulia? You’re just like your mother—no manners, a disgrace to the Miller family.”

Victoria’s gaze was icy. “My last name is Turner. And since Ms. Morris is so determined to marry you, I’m suddenly curious—when did you two start seeing each other?”