The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 577

“Gwyn, why don’t you take Celia and Chris outside for a bit? The adults need to talk.”

Victoria’s tone was as sweet as if she were coaxing a child.

“……”

What did she mean, “the adults”? Hawthorne, apparently considering himself one of them, made no move to leave. Gwyneth could only sigh, especially since Hawthorne was giving her that affectionate, indulgent look.

“Go on,” he said gently, ruffling her hair. “I’ll come find you in a little while.”

Gwyneth hesitated, caught off guard by the warmth in his eyes. For a moment, they just looked at each other, and in the end, she gave in.

“Fine,” she said, resigned.

As soon as Gwyneth and her siblings left the dining room, Victoria’s demeanor changed; her usual warmth replaced by a rare seriousness.

“Gwyn isn’t like other girls,” she said, fixing Hawthorne with a steady gaze. “If you’re truly set on marrying her, you need to be prepared.”

Hawthorne’s face remained calm, his voice steady. “I understand.”

But Victoria shook her head. “No, I don’t think you do. Gwyn suffers from a severe psychological condition. It’s my fault—”

Her words caught in her throat and her eyes turned red. Even Thorpe fell silent.

Though much of what Victoria said next was already known to Hawthorne, he listened patiently, out of respect.

“We’re telling you all this because we need to be honest. If you’re still willing to accept Gwyn—well, then we can truly be at peace.”

Victoria did hope Gwyneth would marry soon, but only to someone worthy of her.

Children shouldn’t bear the consequences of adults’ mistakes.

Hawthorne’s reply caught Victoria completely off guard.

“I don’t see it as an illness,” he said quietly. “Maybe that’s exactly what makes Gwyn so endearing, and so easy to care for.”

It was the first time Victoria and the family patriarch had heard anyone describe Gwyneth this way.

Even the doctors called it a defense mechanism. Unless McNeil woke up, no one could say how long Gwyneth would remain like this. If things went badly, she could spend her whole life trapped in regret.

“……”

Gwyneth blinked, certain she must have misheard.

“Get what?”

Hawthorne reached for her hand, gently bringing it to his lips. The smile he gave her was the most captivating she’d ever seen.

“A marriage license.”

The Next Morning

Gwyneth felt like a porcelain doll as Victoria pulled her out of bed and fussed over her hair and dress. She hadn’t slept a wink all night, and to make matters worse, one of the housekeepers even asked if she’d spent the night in Hawthorne’s room—Victoria nearly had to peel her off the ceiling after that.

With barely any sleep, she could hardly keep her eyes open as Victoria styled her hair.

Hawthorne was already dressed impeccably; Gwyneth wore a simple white dress. Under Victoria and Thorpe’s warm smiles, the two of them headed out to the car.

Gwyneth couldn’t help but notice that Hawthorne looked just as he always did—unruffled, confident. She, on the other hand, never wore dresses, and today she’d been forced into one. She felt out of place, awkward in every way.