The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 720

Gwyneth had lost control, her entire body trembling with rage and heartbreak. Hawthorne finally looked at her, and for a moment, he wanted to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. The truth was nothing like what she was imagining.

“Gwyn, if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths,” he said, his voice strained. “When you were in Greenvale, I could have easily had someone… take care of you. The pain of losing a loved one is worse than anything else. As powerful as the Langford family is, they couldn’t have reached you in time. Don’t think so poorly of me.” He had suffered, but for her, he had let it go.

“And I don’t think so highly of you, either,” she retorted, refusing to believe a word he said.

“Let’s not fight,” Hawthorne said, his tone softening.

Gwyneth turned her face away, unable to look at him. He stepped closer and gently cupped her face in his hands. “We’re about to get married. I don’t want you to go into this with these misunderstandings between us.”

Her expression was ice. “Fine. You want me to stop misunderstanding you? I have one condition.”

Hawthorne’s gaze darkened slightly. “Name it. If it’s within my power.”

She met his eyes, staring directly into their black depths. “Fire Patti Yale.”

He hadn’t expected that. His hesitation was all the answer she needed. Her heart felt like it was bleeding, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. She had nothing left for this man to trample on.

With him gone, the composure Gwyneth had fought so hard to maintain finally crumbled. She collapsed onto her father’s bed, sobbing uncontrollably, her body shaking with grief. “Daddy,” she wept, “I love him so much. Why is he doing this to me?”

As a child, she couldn’t understand the world of adults. Now that she was grown, she no longer wanted to. If this was what it meant to be an adult, she would rather be a naive little girl forever. But then she remembered all the pain she had caused her family when she was just that.

Her tears soaked the blanket where she lay. The father who had adored her most was now lost to her forever. The man she thought was the love of her life, her partner for eternity, had turned out to be nothing more than a cruel joke. What was the point of any of it?

In front of McNeil, Gwyneth let her emotions pour out like a bursting dam. Her mind flooded with memories of her parents’ heated arguments—her mother’s pain, her father’s coldness. Back then, she hadn’t understood. Violet had seemed so kind. Why had her mother been so determined to keep them apart?