The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 711

By the time they pulled Connor from the wreckage, his car was nothing but a charred skeleton.

Gwyneth watched in horror as they loaded him onto a stretcher and into an ambulance.

She tried to follow, but his friends blocked her path.

"Get lost," one of them snarled. "Stay away from Connor. You're a jinx."

Gwyneth could only stand there, helpless, as the ambulance sped away, its sirens wailing into the distance.

The chaotic scene quickly quieted, leaving only the cleanup crew to deal with the aftermath.

The car Connor had been driving for her was towed away, one vehicle completely destroyed and the other not far behind.

Guilt gnawed at her as she stared at the empty road.

If she hadn't seen that message, she wouldn't have been distracted.

If she hadn't been distracted, Connor wouldn't have been so badly injured in a crash that nearly killed them both.

It was all her fault.

Everyone who got close to her met with misfortune.

She was a curse.

Gwyneth collapsed onto the pavement, burying her face in her hands, consumed by a wave of suffocating despair.

The once-sunny sky suddenly turned treacherous.

Dark clouds rolled in, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

A moment later, fat raindrops began to fall, splattering against her face like tiny, stinging stones.

She sat there in the downpour, numb and oblivious, letting the rain soak her to the bone, until a large black umbrella suddenly shielded her from the deluge.

A deep, magnetic voice spoke from above her. "I saw the news about an accident here. I came to check on you."

Hawthorne pulled her into a tight embrace, but she remained limp in his arms, her mind a chaotic storm.

Everyone she touched suffered.

Her friends, her family—anyone she cared about got hurt.

Why did this always happen to her?

All she ever wanted was to be an ordinary person. Was that too much to ask?

She lifted her beautiful, rain-streaked eyes to his, and Hawthorne gently wiped the water from her face.

"Hush, it's not your fault," he soothed. "No one wanted this to happen. Let's go home."

He reached for her hand, but Gwyneth snatched it away.

"It is my fault! Trouble follows me everywhere, and people get hurt. I met you, and your family has a history with mine. Even if it didn't start with me, it started with my father, which means it's still connected to me. My father is still missing because of me. My mother lost her husband because of me. My brother and sister lost their father because of me. And now Connor is in the hospital, and I don't even know if he'll live or die. It's all my fault. What's the point of me even being alive?"