The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 522

Gwyneth sighed inwardly. Clearly, this man intended to keep up this battle of wills with her to the very end.

“Uncle,” Leonie muttered, “I know your company, and I can drive Gwyneth myself. You’re the CEO—aren’t you worried about what people will say if you bring her in personally?”

She grumbled under her breath, then threw in, “You’ve shown up at our house three times in two days. Why don’t you just marry Gwyneth already? That way, you could keep her at your place and wouldn’t have to worry about her slipping away.”

Leonie had tossed the words out carelessly, but they made Gwyneth’s cheeks flush with heat.

She swore she didn’t have the slightest interest in Hawthorne—this overbearing older man. Hawthorne, for his part, frowned wordlessly. “Less of the smart mouth, Leonie. Miss Langford, you should hurry and eat. Work starts at eight sharp, and even I get my pay docked if I’m late.”

Gwyneth’s heart started pounding erratically. Was Hawthorne really planning to keep her under surveillance around the clock?

Did he actually think she was capable of wiping out the entire Everhart family? Ridiculous.

But with her fate in his hands, all she could do was lower her head and obediently work through her breakfast, racking her brain for an escape plan.

She rather liked Greenvale, but if someone was determined to drive her out, there was little point in staying—especially if she was going to be guarded like a parolee every day. Clearly, she needed to find an opportunity to slip away.

Hawthorne took a napkin and dabbed at the corner of his mouth with measured, elegant movements, then lifted his gaze to pin Gwyneth in place.

“Until I get to the bottom of your father’s dealings, Miss Langford, I suggest you forget about running off. You could disappear to the ends of the earth and I’d still find you. And don’t lump me in with your ex-boyfriend—I’m not on his level.”

In other words: Sit tight until I sort out the truth, or you’ll regret it.

Gwyneth gave him a bland smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Everhart, I’m not going anywhere. But I do agree with Leonie—if you’re going to show up here every day, you might as well just marry me and save yourself the trouble. With a marriage certificate, I’d be yours no matter where I tried to run.”

“Wait, wait, Uncle—let’s all calm down. Gwyneth’s my friend! Isn’t she a little young for you?”

Leonie looked between Gwyneth and Hawthorne, noticing for the first time that the way they glared at each other was more like sworn enemies than star-crossed lovers. This was bad. Was her uncle really thinking about marrying Gwyneth and locking her up for good?

“Uncle—marrying her to keep her locked up is definitely illegal.”

Hawthorne shot her an exasperated look, irritation flickering in his eyes. “What on earth are you imagining?”

Gwyneth smirked. What was this insufferable man really up to?

“I’m finished. I’ll wait for you in the car,” Hawthorne said, then looked at Leonie. “You too. Let’s go.”