The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 519

“If you insist.”

Hawthorne didn’t bother to hide his disdain just because Gwyneth looked upset. The Everharts’ attempt to smooth things over fell flat.

No one at the table had ever seen Hawthorne so openly hostile toward a young girl—he treated her as if she were a sworn enemy.

“As far as I know, there aren’t many folks in Greenvale with the last name Langford,” he said, voice cool. “Miss Langford, what do your parents do here in Greenvale?”

He didn’t even try to be subtle. Gwyneth was at her breaking point.

But Leonie remembered what her dad had told her: there was bad blood between Hawthorne and the Everhart family. A man like Hawthorne, heir to a powerful family, wouldn’t go after her for simply being friends with Leonie—his suspicions were tenacious, almost rabid.

He was questioning who she really was.

“Uncle—Gwyn—”

Hawthorne shot her a cold glance. Leonie fell silent instantly.

The Everharts were starting to catch on, growing uneasy.

Mr. Everhart himself didn’t really have a beef with the Langfords. He’d never really set foot in the cutthroat world of business, so he didn’t have any grudges to speak of.

Gwyneth lost her nerve. For the first time in her life, she felt like she couldn’t breathe in someone’s presence.

“My mother’s a housewife, my dad’s a butcher. I’ve got a younger brother and sister. We live off welfare. I came to Greenvale to make a living, but my ex-boyfriend tried to sabotage me in my field, so—could you please just let me be, Uncle?”

Layne, who’d been quietly sipping soup with his head down, choked when he heard Gwyneth’s answer.

He was pretty sure she was just making things up as she went.

Hawthorne’s tone was icy. “Miss Langford, we’re hardly acquainted. ‘Uncle’ isn’t appropriate.”

The rest of the meal was tense and uneasy.

Gwyneth barely touched her food. Hawthorne, on the other hand, ate and drank with infuriating poise and refinement, as if nothing at all were out of the ordinary.

Layne had taken an unexpected liking to Gwyneth—he was just protective of his little sister, really.

Otherwise, how could Leonie, spoiled as she was, have turned out so naive? She seemed to think everyone she met was a good person.

Hawthorne’s gaze flicked to the red band around Layne’s left wrist. His tone was even colder.

“Oh? So you’re done with your new girlfriend, then?”

Layne froze, throat tight. He’d been keeping that relationship under wraps for over three months—how did his uncle find out?

“It’s getting late. I need to get back to the office,” Hawthorne said, rising from his seat. “I commute every day, too. I can’t be your chauffeur, but I can arrange for someone to take you home.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Mrs. Everhart said, hurrying to her feet as Hawthorne stood. Mr. Everhart scrambled up as well.

“I’ll come too. These kids are always causing trouble—you’ve got enough on your plate without worrying about them. I’ll have a serious talk with Leonie later.”