The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 84

Gwyneth called two more times, but Victoria didn’t pick up.

On the other end, Gwyneth glared at her watch phone, her little face scrunched up in frustration.

“What did your mom say?”

McNeil asked, feigning a casual tone.

“She said she’s busy and won’t be coming back for now.”

Gwyneth was clearly upset. She’d been trying hard to do what her mom asked—no more falling asleep in class, homework done on time—yet the game her mom had promised still hadn’t arrived.

“Alright.”

McNeil replied flatly. He headed upstairs, only to find the rooms eerily empty.

He opened the closet; all of Victoria’s clothes were gone. Even the bathroom was stripped of her toiletries.

He let out a cold, bitter laugh. After all that—after risking his life to save her—she’d been planning her escape for some time.

So what was the point of everything he’d done?

“Xenia!”

His shout startled the housekeeper, who hurried in, looking nervous.

“When did she leave?”

Judging by the room, it had clearly been vacant for a while—not just a day or two.

“M-Mrs. Langford moved out over a month ago.”

A month.

McNeil’s jaw tightened, a vein throbbing at his temple. He’d been thinking about her constantly, while she’d been plotting to leave him and their daughter behind.

Suddenly, noise drifted up from downstairs—someone was delivering a wedding dress.

“Mr. Langford, your wife’s gown has been altered and is ready for your inspection.”

Face like stone, McNeil went downstairs and addressed the boutique manager. “Who told you to send the dress to Winding Peak Lane last time?”

He remembered the day Victoria had pressed him to sign; he’d just laughed it off.

Now, he picked up the agreement again. Her signature stood out—bold, sharp, decisive: Victoria. No hesitation, no second thoughts.

She was the one who’d fought so hard to marry him—and now she was determined to end it.

What did she take him for?

If she wanted a divorce so badly, fine. He’d give her what she wanted.

He grabbed his daughter’s pen and scrawled his name across the page: McNeil.

Their marriage had been a secret, but they’d stood together in a church, swearing their vows before a priest.

“McNeil, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, I, Victoria, will never forsake you until the end of my days.”

“And I, McNeil, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, will never forsake Victoria until death do us part.”

There’d been no poverty, no sickness, no death—yet their marriage had still come to an end.