The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 571

Victoria took the long box, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.

Usually, first-time visitors would bring the typical fare—some generic health supplements or expensive tonics. But this man’s gift was a mystery, tightly wrapped and giving away nothing.

“It’s just a small gesture,” Hawthorne said simply, offering no further explanation.

Gwyneth’s heart skipped a beat when she caught sight of the box.

“Well, I won’t stand on ceremony, then,” Victoria replied, curiosity piqued. She was eager to see what kind of present the man who had safely escorted her daughter home had prepared.

The moment Victoria opened the box, she was stunned.

Inside was a landscape painting. As she carefully unrolled it, her eyes landed on the signature at the bottom—and tears welled up instantly.

This was it. The last of her mother’s keepsakes—the one she had searched for through endless towns and cities, always coming up empty-handed. Never did she imagine it would find its way back to her today.

“What is this?” she asked, voice trembling.

Gwyneth recognized it at once. She’d seen this very painting hanging on the wall of Hawthorne’s villa—a priceless original by her grandmother. She’d been quietly longing to bring it home, and now, here it was, delivered right to their door.

Hawthorne had actually given it to her. That could only mean…

“Thank you, Mr. Everhart. This is my mother’s masterpiece—how did you…?” Victoria was visibly moved. Of all the things she’d longed for over the years, nothing mattered more than gathering her mother’s works, fulfilling at least one of her mother’s final wishes.

Gwyneth looked at Hawthorne, puzzled. So he’d known who she was all along—that’s why he’d brought the painting.

“Gwyn spent a long time looking at this painting when she visited my place the other day,” he said, glancing coolly in her direction. “In fact, she was rather… furtive about it.”

Gwyneth opened her mouth, but the words tangled hopelessly. She hadn’t left home for Hawthorne, after all.

“It’s not like that—” she tried to explain.

Chris, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up, his tone serious. “So, are you telling us you’re bringing him home to propose? Are you really serious about this?”

He looked anything but pleased. Gwyneth was his big sister; the prospect of her suddenly having a boyfriend—or worse, a fiancé—was hard to swallow.

“No, I’m not,” Gwyneth protested, but no one was listening. It seemed everyone had already decided she and Hawthorne were living together. Flustered, she tugged Hawthorne’s sleeve and shoved him forward like a shield.

“Uncle, say something. Explain!” she pleaded.

Hawthorne, as calm as ever, asked, “Which part am I supposed to clarify? The fact that she’s staying at my place, or… our relationship?”