The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 444

Violet stared at McNeil, struggling to process his words.

“Vivian, is that you?”

He asked again, and Violet’s eyes instantly filled with tears.

“Does it matter?” she choked out. “Whether I’m Vivian or someone else—does it really matter to you, McNeil? Is that the only reason you want to be with me, because of who I might be?”

Her nerves were frayed; she wasn’t Vivian, and once, she could have admitted that openly in front of him. But now, she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

After that last rally, the crash—no one believed she could be the dazzling woman behind the wheel, let alone the team’s supposed mechanical engineer. If she claimed to be Vivian now, her entire story would unravel under scrutiny. One lie would only lead to more, and eventually, it would all become impossible to explain.

“It matters to me,” McNeil said quietly. “If you’re not Vivian, then there’s only one person who is.”

He watched her, taking in every flicker of panic that crossed her face.

Her secrets were none of his business, or they wouldn’t have been—except she’d crossed Victoria’s line. And now, all of Violet’s bad luck, all the mishaps—it wasn’t coincidence. This had Victoria’s fingerprints all over it.

“Who is it, then?” she demanded, her voice trembling. “Don’t tell me it’s Victoria. God, McNeil, she can barely drive a car, remember? The last time she took out the Ferrari, it broke down in a snowstorm. Someone died in her car, have you forgotten? And now you’re telling me she’s Vivian?”

Violet let out a shaky laugh, tears threatening to spill.

“The developer of that racing game,” McNeil said quietly. “That was Vivian.”

The laughter died in Violet’s throat. She stared at McNeil, all pretense gone, and practically shouted, “So what, McNeil? Even if she is Vivian, what does that change?”

“At the very least,” McNeil replied, “she never lied to me.”

He gave her one last look. “Go back to the apartment Grandpa bought you, or to Simms’ place—I don’t care. You can decide.”

He turned and walked away, not once looking back.

No matter how Violet screamed and sobbed behind him, he didn’t hesitate.

That silent rebellion—walking away—lifted the crushing weight from his shoulders. For the first time, he could breathe.

He knew Victoria might never forgive him. He knew the road ahead would be long and uncertain. But as long as there was even the slightest chance to stay by her side, he would take it.

No matter what it took, he wouldn’t let her go.

He needed her—he couldn’t lose her, not now.

Violet watched as McNeil’s car disappeared into the distance. She chased after it, running until her legs gave out and she collapsed, broken, onto the empty street.