The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 39

Victoria kept her head down, rapidly texting back and forth with Ailie. It had been so long since they’d seen each other that Ailie seemed determined to keep the conversation going, hopping from topic to topic.

When they finally pulled up to the old family estate, McNeil got out of the car with Gwyneth in his arms. He waited for a while, expecting Victoria to follow, but she still hadn’t emerged.

After setting Gwyneth down, McNeil doubled back to look for her. He found Victoria still sitting in the back seat, her fingers flying across her phone screen, completely absorbed in whatever she was writing.

McNeil rapped lightly on the window. The driver, still waiting in the front, looked nervous—he wouldn’t dare rush Mrs. Langford, let alone leave her unattended.

Victoria finished her last message and, hearing the knock, turned to see McNeil’s less-than-pleased expression.

“We’re here. Are you planning on getting out at all?”

It was only then that Victoria realized the car had stopped. “Oh,” she said simply.

She slipped her bag over her shoulder and climbed out, falling into step beside McNeil.

Perhaps to keep up appearances for the family patriarch—who would surely notice if they seemed at odds—McNeil reached for Victoria’s hand. This time, she didn’t pull away. If he wanted to put on a show, she’d play along one last time. After today, it wouldn’t matter anymore.

“Mr. McNeil, Mrs. Langford, welcome home,” the steward greeted them, hurrying over with practiced deference.

McNeil nodded and, ever the gentleman for the audience, took Victoria’s bag from her. As they entered the foyer, he even supported her by the elbow, guiding her carefully up the steps, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

Watching the two of them enter hand in hand, Madonna—McNeil’s mother—couldn’t help but frown. She’d never liked Victoria. When Victoria married in, the Langford family’s influence and wealth in Starfall City had far outstripped the Turners’. The marriage was a step down for Victoria but a big leap up for McNeil. Victoria had the strongest family background of any daughter-in-law the Langfords had ever had, and Madonna had felt overshadowed from the very start. No one would be happy in her place.

Truthfully, Madonna preferred Violet—compliant, easy to control, and with no remarkable connections to speak of…

Everyone in the house knew how much he wanted another great-grandchild. Madonna was playing with fire.

Sure enough, he snapped before she could finish. “You’ve only managed to produce one child yourself after all these years, and now you want to deny your son the chance for more? Or do you think I won’t be around to see them grow up?”

Chastened, Madonna fell silent. Her husband had been gone for years; if not for the fact that she’d given the Langfords their only heir, she’d barely have a voice in this house.

“Grandpa, I’ve thought about it,” Victoria said, her voice even but resolute. “We’re not having another child.”

The silence that followed was deafening. It was as if she’d dropped a bomb in the middle of the room.

The old man’s smile froze in place. After a long pause, he turned to McNeil. “McNeil, what’s going on?”