The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 611

Gwyneth’s cheeks flushed bright red, and she fell silent.

Hawthorne’s dark eyes grew even more intense. Without a word, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the large bed in the adjoining room, everything that followed unfolding as if it had always been meant to happen. He showed her with actions rather than words—unyielding, leaving no room for hesitation. Gwyneth was caught between longing and a flutter of nerves; it was the thrill of venturing into the unknown, the hope for a life yet to come.

Later, there were moments Gwyneth could hardly recall, hazy memories of giving herself to Hawthorne again and again, matching his intensity until both of them were spent and breathless.

When she finally woke, Hawthorne was already up, freshly showered and dressed, carrying a breakfast tray with a glass of milk and a plate of food.

She glanced at the clock—nearly noon. Remembering what had happened between them, Gwyneth wished she could disappear beneath the covers. To her surprise, Hawthorne’s face broke into a rare smile.

“Mrs. Everhart, aren’t you hungry? Come on, sit up and eat something.”

He set the generous breakfast in her hands and watched her intently. Their eyes met, and Gwyneth felt a jolt of heat, quickly looking away.

“Should I go back to the office tomorrow?” she asked, her voice muffled.

She was probably the only person at the company who could slack off without fear of being fired. Hawthorne’s lips twitched with amusement. “Whatever you prefer, Mrs. Everhart.”

He would have liked her to stay home, but having Gwyneth become a full-time housewife at her age felt wrong. She deserved to experience more—work could fill her days and broaden her world.

The manor ran effortlessly with the help of butlers and staff; if Gwyneth stayed home every day, she’d only grow restless.

With his agreement, Gwyneth hurried to the bathroom for a quick shower, changed into fresh clothes, and emerged to find Hawthorne still waiting for her.