The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 698

After marrying her, he’d racked his brain trying to win her over, but the only thing that ever seemed to bring a smile to Gwyneth’s face was finding rare pigments for her artwork. That was all it took to make her happy.

With most girls, you could buy their affection—shower them with expensive jewelry or gifts, and they’d melt. But Gwyneth? She didn’t care for any of that.

He regretted giving away that painting—Gwyneth’s grandmother’s treasured piece—so soon, handing it over to his mother-in-law as a first-meeting gift. That was his trump card. If he’d kept it, at least Gwyneth would’ve had a reason to see him, even if just reluctantly. Now, all he had left were a few meager months’ worth of memories between them—nothing more.

“You know? You know what? You don’t know a damn thing. If you did, your wife wouldn’t have run off. What are you going to say to the family at Thanksgiving? What are you going to tell your mother-in-law?”

Mr. Everhart finally lost his patience. If he could, he’d march straight over to Gwyneth’s place and apologize on Hawthorne’s behalf.

“It’s late, you two,” Hawthorne said to his older brother and sister-in-law. “Why don’t you both head home and get some rest? I can handle my own business. Both weddings will go on as planned.”

His determined tone eased Mrs. Everhart’s worry, if only a little.

“Leonie is still waiting on you to sort things out with Gwyneth,” Mrs. Everhart said gently. “Not every woman falls for sweet talk. A sincere heart matters more than anything.”

Mr. and Mrs. Everhart left, but her words echoed in Hawthorne’s mind like a heavy blow, pounding against his chest.

None of his usual tricks from the business world worked on Gwyneth. She was unyielding and fearless; there was nothing he could threaten her with.

Hawthorne sat on the sofa, losing track of time as he smoked one cigarette after another. The ashtray on the coffee table looked like a bouquet of crushed cigarette ends.

“Hawthorne, Genevieve hopes I can join your company. What do you think?”

It was past midnight when Patti Yale’s message appeared on his phone, jolting him back to reality.

“Come in tomorrow and fill out the paperwork,” he replied.

Patti bit her lip, her hands trembling as she clutched her phone. She felt like a lamb being led to slaughter, enemies closing in on all sides.

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