The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 1000

Listening to Alastair's venom, Maeve bit her inner lip so hard she nearly drew blood.

She desperately wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she could never abandon her mother to live out some fantasy romance with Layne.

However, Alastair's threat had inadvertently handed her a massive piece of the puzzle. No wonder Layne had locked himself in the study all night. In their two years together, he had never once slept in another room. His empire was under siege.

She frowned deeply, unsure if Alastair was directly responsible for the cyber-attack, but it was glaringly obvious he was eager to capitalize on the chaos.

At the doorway, Mrs. Shannon stood frozen, a tray of fresh tea trembling in her hands. She had heard every single word of Maeve's side of the conversation. The sheer shock of the revelation nearly caused her to drop the porcelain cups.

Thankfully, Maeve was too lost in her own dark thoughts to notice the housekeeper. She sank into the plush armchair, her mind racing.

Her clinging routine the night before hadn't been a calculated sabotage attempt; she had genuinely been terrified Layne was pulling away. She had dragged him back to bed, employing levels of affection and neediness she had never used before. She had essentially treated him the way she used to treat Quinton, letting her natural, unfiltered personality take over.

But the experience had served as a brutal wake-up call. The man who had spent two years doting on her every whim was not the useless playboy everyone thought he was.

Seeing him locked in that intense, hyper-focused state last night proved he was a completely different animal when challenged. In a way, he was a mirror image of the legendary Hawthorne Everhart he was always so fond of talking about.

Initially, Maeve had been arrogant, assuming Layne would be an easy target. She and Wren had simply bided their time until Hawthorne left Greenvale. When Wren finally got close to Hawthorne, leaving Layne seemingly isolated, Maeve thought victory was assured. But now, she realized the entire game board had flipped.

Layne wasn't a trust-fund baby waiting to be bled dry. When he activated his business instincts, even Maeve found herself terrified to cross him.

Last night was all the proof she needed.

Maeve traced the deep teeth marks on her lower lip. She had practically thrown herself at him all night, only to end up crying herself to sleep while Layne single-handedly fought off a corporate siege until dawn.

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