The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 713

As dawn broke, Gwyneth's fever finally stabilized.

Hawthorne hadn't slept a wink, and when he caught his reflection in the mirror, he saw the dark stubble that now shadowed his jaw.

Just then, a knock came at the door.

"Mr. Everhart," Butler Parham announced softly. "The doctor is here."

Parham had summoned the family doctor first thing in the morning.

Hawthorne quickly opened the door to let him in.

Thanks to Hawthorne's tireless care throughout the night, Gwyneth's fever had already subsided.

The doctor, after a quick examination, confirmed she was out of immediate danger.

He prescribed some anti-inflammatories and started an IV drip to rehydrate her.

"Physically, Mrs. Everhart should be fine with some rest and nutrition," the doctor explained. "However, it's clear she is under immense emotional distress, and that's taking a physical toll. It's crucial that she finds some peace of mind."

Knowing the root of the problem might help her recover faster.

After Hawthorne saw the doctor out and returned upstairs, he found Gwyneth awake.

She was staring blankly at the ceiling before she shot upright, the movement pulling at the IV needle in her hand.

She winced, a soft frown creasing her brow.

"Connor," she breathed, the name a pained whisper.

A nightmare had jolted her awake, leaving her drenched in a cold sweat.

In her dream, she had seen Connor, covered in blood, being wheeled into the hospital on a gurney with a white sheet pulled over his head.

She bit back the retort that if it weren't for that post she saw on social media about him and Patti Yale, she wouldn't have been distracted in the first place, and Connor wouldn't have crashed trying to save her.

"The accident was my fault," she stated, her voice firm. "I have to go to the hospital and see him. I'm going, whether you like it or not."

Her tone was resolute, leaving no room for argument.

"You still want to see him? You were sick all night because of him!"

I was sick because of you, Gwyneth nearly screamed, the words catching in her throat.

The thought of him and Patti Yale sent a fresh wave of despair through her, but showing weakness now felt cheap.

Hawthorne didn't truly care about her, so why should she strip herself of her dignity and become worthless in his eyes?

"Think what you want," she said, her voice flat. "I'm going to the hospital. You can either drive me, or I'll call a cab. Your choice."