The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 493

Victoria slept soundly through the night, completely unaware that McNeil had stood guard outside her door until dawn.

Today was the day of Simms’s trial. She dressed in a tailored black suit, somber and sharp, while Emily wore a black dress; the two of them looked as if they were heading to a funeral—which, in a sense, they were, honoring the memories of Mann and Edith.

“Mom, Grandpa,” Victoria murmured as she lit a candle at the family shrine, kneeling before the portraits of Edith and her grandfather. “Today, Emily and I will finally see the one who destroyed you both brought to justice.”

Only after paying her respects did she leave the Turner estate.

In the courtroom, Simms sat at the defense table. He wore an immaculate suit, hair slicked back, looking every bit the distinguished man in his forties—calm, collected, and entirely unlike a man on trial for murder.

His composure faltered only once: when his eyes fell on Emily, seated beside Victoria. The resemblance to Edith was unmistakable, and for a moment, Simms seemed genuinely taken aback.

“Surprised to see I’m still alive, brother-in-law?” Emily’s voice was icy as she paused deliberately in front of him, removing her sunglasses. Simms’s eyes flickered with something like fear, but he regained his poise almost instantly, even squeezing out a few tears for effect.

“Emily, I—I can’t believe you’re alive. I’m so moved to see you again,” he said, his voice wavering just enough.

Emily let out a cold laugh. “Moved, or just scared? We’ll see how you feel once the trial begins.”

Simms feigned confusion. “How can you say that? You have no idea how happy I am to see you. I—”

“Save it,” Emily snapped, cutting him off. “You were never really my brother-in-law, and you know exactly how my sister died. Go ahead—put on a show for the judge, and see how much of it they actually believe.”

She moved to the gallery, fixing Simms with a hard, unblinking stare. Once she was out of his line of sight, his expression hardened, all pretense slipping away.

He turned to Victoria. “Is that what you think too?”

“Idiot,” she mouthed, just loud enough for him to see.

For the first time that day, a glimmer of panic crossed Simms’s face. He’d thought he had everything under control, but seeing Violet and Yulia together made him wish he’d taken care of them sooner. Now, he had no choice but to brazen it out.

The trial began. The prosecution laid out the charges against Simms, but he seemed prepared, and his attorney—no amateur—handled each accusation with practiced ease.

It wasn’t until Victoria took the witness stand that the cracks began to show. Suddenly, Simms was weeping, playing the part of the devastated father.

“Vicky, I’m your real dad—how could you doubt me?”

Victoria glanced at the gallery. “Whether you’re really my father or not… maybe you should ask those two.”