The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 413

Violet and McNeil’s wedding was in full swing, the preparations growing more frenetic by the day.

Yet McNeil seemed wholly uninterested. Violet had considered telling him that the date had already been announced to the press—every major outlet would be sending crews to broadcast the wedding live—but lately, McNeil had been conspicuously busy.

He hadn’t set foot in her apartment, nor returned to the house he’d once shared with Victoria. Gwyneth had been sent to stay with his family at the old estate.

Compared to the lively bustle on Violet’s end, McNeil’s world felt cold and silent.

Since she was discharged from the hospital, McNeil had barely set foot anywhere she was.

She’d brought the wedding gown back from his house, and the more Violet looked at it, the more she adored it.

But there was a problem—Victoria had a curvier figure but a slimmer waist, and no matter how many times Violet tried the dress on, she couldn’t quite squeeze into it. If she forced it, the Swarovski crystals would pop right off.

Resigned, she called the bridal shop and asked them to alter it to her measurements.

The closer the wedding day drew, the more uneasy Violet felt. More than once, she woke in the middle of the night, sweating from a nightmare in which Victoria tried to kill her.

She’d switch on the lamp and stare into the silent darkness, then find herself laughing at her own nerves.

Victoria would never cross paths with McNeil again. That chapter was closed.

It was just a dream, she reminded herself. What was there to worry about?

The next morning, Violet hand-delivered a wedding invitation to Quantum Core Technologies.

Curtis accepted the envelope, his expression a little hard to read.

“You’re delivering these yourself? Where’s McNeil?”

Violet bristled inwardly but kept her expression smooth. “You know how busy he is. You two are close—surely that’s no surprise.”

Curtis’s reply was loaded with something she couldn’t quite place. “Right… McNeil, he…”

He seemed about to ask something, then fell silent. What he really wanted to know was whether McNeil knew Victoria was pregnant.

Violet pressed him: “What is it?”

Curtis shook his head. “Nothing. Congratulations, Violet. I hope you two have a long and happy life together. You’ve waited so long for this—it’s what you always wanted.”

Violet flashed him a dazzling smile. “Yes. We’re going to be very happy.”

Violet, resplendent in her wedding gown, stared at the empty driveway. There was no groom. No best man.

“Where’s McNeil?” she asked.

Maynard bowed respectfully. “Mr. Langford is already at the hotel. He asked me to come pick you up.”

Around her, the bridesmaids began to whisper.

“Why didn’t Mr. Langford come himself?”

“Seriously, he just sent someone? That’s so careless.”

For the first time, Violet lost her temper.

“Where is McNeil? It’s our wedding day! Is this how he treats me?”

Maynard, caught off guard by her anger, hesitated, then spoke quietly so only she could hear. “Ms. Marchand, Mr. Langford told me you just wanted to fulfill your wish of marrying him. There’s no need for all this fuss. He said to keep everything simple. I’m to take you alone to the hotel. The bridesmaids don’t have cars—either they get taxis or stay here. What would you like to do?”

Violet was so furious she nearly fainted. “Forget it. I’ll call my own car.”