The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 568

Hawthorne Everhart was coming with her to see her father, and suddenly, Gwyneth Langford felt a wave of inexplicable nerves sweep through her.

The old solemn, heavy air seemed to dissolve in an instant, replaced by a fluttering anxiety she tried hard to hide. She was afraid Hawthorne might notice her unease, so she didn’t protest when he offered to accompany her.

Watching the two of them leave side by side, Thorpe Langford let out a long sigh. “Well, I suppose it’s time this chapter finally came to an end.”

Gwyneth made her way to the private clinic where McNeil Langford had been staying all these years. For Hawthorne, it was the first time seeing the man in person. Even after so many years in a coma, McNeil still radiated a sharp, commanding presence—as if the sheer force of his character lingered around him, undimmed by time.

Even from a distance, the sight of him was both daunting and heartbreaking. McNeil’s eyes were closed, his face at peace, as if merely sleeping. Gwyneth felt her nose sting with the threat of tears.

“Dad… I’m sorry. Gwyn’s come home to see you.”

She had so much she wanted to say to him, but now, sitting at his bedside, she couldn’t find a place to start.

Her phone suddenly rang, making her jump. Victoria Turner’s name flashed on the screen, but she let the call go unanswered.

“Take your time,” Hawthorne said gently. “I’ll wait outside.”

He was tactful enough to give her space. He had seen McNeil now, and whatever old grudges he’d once held—seeing the man like this, barely more than a memory—those wounds seemed pointless. Revenge was meaningless against someone already lost to the world.

He stepped out to the smoking area, lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag. The wind tore the smoke away from his lips, carrying it off until only the faintest trace lingered in the air.

Inside, Gwyneth sat quietly. In her memories, her father had always looked just like this. More than a decade had passed—she had grown up, but her father remained unchanged.

She told herself that this was justice: because she hadn’t listened to Victoria, because she’d let herself be blinded by Violet Marchand’s false kindness, her parents had grown apart, her family had fallen apart, and she had lost the person who’d loved her most.

So maybe fate had taken her father away on purpose. If she’d valued Victoria’s concern, if she’d seen through Violet’s schemes, maybe her parents’ marriage would have survived.

Years had passed, and things had changed. Her mother had been courted by many eligible men, but she’d never let anyone else into her life. Gwyneth always hoped her mother would find love again, but at the same time, a selfish part of her wondered—what if Dad ever woke up? What if Mom remarried? What would happen then?

These questions haunted her for years. But the truth was, she’d not only broken her own family, she’d also robbed her mother of any hope for love. Her mother’s heart had closed off for good.

Gwyneth couldn’t forgive herself. She had destroyed the people she loved most.

“Dad, it’s okay. I’m grown up now. I know who I am and what I want, and I know which path I need to take. You don’t have to worry about me. Dad, can’t you wake up? Please… please, I need you to come back—”