The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 99

After finishing up, she stepped outside.

Lyndon eyed the car.

“A McLaren Elva. Four-liter, twin-turbo V8 engine—tops out at 815 horsepower. Do you want any custom work? Just a heads-up, upgrades on this thing don’t come cheap.”

Marcus wasn’t a car guy.

“No need, just fix it up. I’m not in a hurry.”

Lyndon gave him a quick glance—Victoria had already arrived.

“We can get started now.”

Pulling on her gloves, Victoria got ready. Marcus couldn’t help but ask, “You work on cars too?”

He’d figured Victoria would just hand over tools or maybe take notes.

Lyndon shot Marcus a look of pure disdain.

“Unless our boss handles it herself, there’s no way you’ll have your car back in half an hour.”

Marcus was stunned.

Fixing a wrecked car in half an hour? Was this a joke?

“Alright, let’s get to it,” he said, still skeptical.

Victoria took the lead, and the team threw themselves into the job, dismantling and rebuilding right in front of Marcus. Not only did they finish in under thirty minutes—they wrapped up even faster than that.

In no time, the dozen-person crew handed over a sparkling, like-new McLaren to Marcus.

“Mr. Green, want to take her for a spin?” Victoria asked, tossing him the keys with a casual flick.

Marcus was speechless, standing there in shock for a good three minutes.

He stared at the car, struggling to find his words.

“No need—I trust you guys,” he finally said.

Lyndon snorted. “Then you can transfer the payment to our team lead.”

Marcus hurried to ask for the price. At this point, he thought, even if they charged him a small fortune, it would be worth every penny.

“Name your price.”

Victoria turned to Lyndon. “The guys have to eat—work it out with Mr. Green. Leave my share out of it.”

McNeil offered no comment, nor did he intend to. Security guards quickly appeared, guiding the couple into a sleek black luxury van.

As Violet settled inside, the camera flashes outside were relentless—more aggressive than paparazzi chasing a movie star.

She waved politely, then pulled the curtain closed.

“Let’s go,” McNeil instructed, and their car pulled away, all eyes on them.

That evening, Victoria returned home, exhausted.

Yasmine was already waiting for her.

She handed over the emerald ring, nestled in a finely crafted box. The gem was flawless—vivid green and almost glowing, with a silk-smooth feel that made every cent of that ninety million worthwhile.

“Find an ordinary, inconspicuous box for it,” Victoria said, turning it over in her hand. This was her mother’s favorite thing—she couldn’t bear to part with it.

Yasmine immediately understood and hurried off to find a plain container.

Without McNeil around, Victoria’s days were peaceful and easy.

Her game development project was nearly finished, and Gwyneth called almost every day, alternating between playful whining and dramatic complaints.