The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 35

Victoria’s gaze instantly cooled, her voice turning icy.

“Ask him what Gwyn has planned. Tell him to call me back later.”

She didn’t wait for Violet to say anything else—just hung up without a word.

Yasmine arrived a moment later, carrying Victoria’s clothes and, as always, a bit of news.

“Mr. Miller had Daniel hire a housekeeper today—a woman, apparently to help take care of things around here. Daniel’s a man; there are some things he can’t really handle.”

A faint, amused smile played at Victoria’s lips. She doubted Simms was thrilled about her staying long-term, so why bring in a housekeeper to cater to her?

“Is her name Morris?”

Yasmine nodded, clearly impressed. “Yes, Ms. Langford. You really do see right through people.”

Victoria shot her a look. That title—Mrs. Langford—used to please her, but now it just sounded grating.

“From now on, call me Ms. Turner.”

Meanwhile, back with Violet, McNeil entered the room carrying her medication.

“Take these, and drink some water.”

He watched until she swallowed the pills, obedient as always, before glancing at her phone on the nightstand. Violet hadn’t told him that Victoria had called, nor that she’d quietly deleted the call from her history.

“Don’t go telling people who you are when you’re out,” McNeil warned. He didn’t want a repeat of the crowding chaos from earlier.

“I’m sorry, McNeil. I didn’t mean to cause trouble—it’s just the fans are so enthusiastic.” Violet’s voice was tinged with grievance, but she kept her emotions in check, as she always did with him.

McNeil’s phone rang—his father.

A sudden wave of frustration hit McNeil, but he reminded himself that Violet’s illness—her chronic depression and erratic routines—had started after he married Victoria. For years, she couldn’t move on. In the end, her emotional collapse had led to cancer.

He stepped closer. “Gwyn’s at home—I’ll go check in.”

He didn’t mention that the call had been from his father. The old man had already made it clear that Violet couldn’t stay much longer, yet he was the one who’d pulled strings to save her life in the first place.

McNeil knew Violet well—she wasn’t as rational or composed as Victoria. If she started making trouble, his father wouldn’t tolerate it.

Violet always tried to gain sympathy by playing the victim. McNeil understood: her illness was his burden to bear, and he owed it to her to help her recover. Everything else could wait.

Her wide, tear-filled eyes searched his face. “Was it really Victoria who called just now? What did she say?”

She’d deleted the call and kept Victoria’s words from him—afraid he’d leave if he knew.