The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 384

McNeil watched as Victoria walked away. He sat there for a long time, so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice when Xenia came to find him.

“Sir…”

Xenia had no idea what was wrong. Just a short while ago, Mrs. Langford had been downstairs, having dinner with Mr. Langford and Miss Gwyneth. Then, suddenly, Mrs. Langford’s car was gone, and Mr. Langford was left sitting alone, staring into space.

The expression on his face was something Xenia had never seen before, not since she started working for the Langford family.

It was a sadness too deep for words, resting quietly on his features, impossible to hide.

McNeil hadn’t been sitting much longer when the phone rang—an urgent call from the hospital.

“Is this Mr. Langford? Ms. Marchand has been admitted, and her situation is critical. She’s in surgery right now. If you’re able, please come to the hospital as soon as possible.”

He was still numb from Victoria’s departure. Even the news that Violet was in the hospital didn’t stir his expression.

“I’ll be there right away.”

After hanging up, he sat quietly for another ten minutes, then rose and headed upstairs.

Gwyneth was in her room, absorbed in her video game, completely unaware that McNeil had entered.

He knelt in front of her and gently ruffled her hair. Only then did Gwyneth look up and notice him.

“Is it time for cake?” she asked eagerly. “I thought we were waiting until midnight to blow out the candles.”

McNeil looked at her, taking in her bright eyes—so much like Victoria’s. The way she spoke, her gestures, everything about her was a reflection of her mother.

She was Victoria’s little mirror image, and McNeil had always doted on her for that reason.

If there was one thing about Victoria that ever truly frustrated him, it was her strictness with Gwyneth. He only ever wanted to see their daughter happy.

That’s why he so often took Gwyneth to visit Violet—she always seemed to light up around her.

But he’d never imagined that, when Victoria left today, she’d accuse him of orchestrating Gwyneth’s birth, or of planning to send their daughter to Violet.

“It’s not quite time yet,” McNeil said, his voice gentle. “But I want to blow out the candles with you now, because I need to step out for a while.”

At the mention of cake and candles, Gwyneth eagerly set down her game.

“Okay! But I want Mom to make a wish with me. Violet told me that when two girls make a wish together, it’s more likely to come true. And it has to be two girls! Are you and Mom going somewhere? Can I come too?”

But Gwyneth just tilted her head, thinking it over.

“If I can’t see Violet, does that mean Mom will stay home with me every day? If she will, then… I guess it’s okay.”

Her nonchalant attitude left McNeil torn between relief and helpless laughter.

“Max always says Violet isn’t good for me, that Mom is the best. Sometimes Max says weird things, but I don’t think he’d lie. And lately, Violet doesn’t seem to like me much either. Every time I try to visit, she won’t let me.”

Truth was, Gwyneth had already been hurt by Violet’s distance. She still longed to see Violet, not because she was happy with her, but because she’d grown so used to that closeness—it was like a habit she couldn’t shake.

“Alright, if you’re sure you’re okay with not seeing Violet anymore, I promise Mom will be here with you every day. But you have to promise to listen to Dad, okay?”

Gwyneth nodded enthusiastically. “Okay…”

McNeil took her hand and led her downstairs for the candles.

Victoria was missing, but Gwyneth, reassured by her father’s promise, wasn’t sad at all.

When it came time to make a wish, Gwyneth closed her eyes tight, and after she finished, McNeil leaned in to ask her what she wished for.