The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 783

Another harsh slap landed on Patti’s face, and she felt a tooth loosen. She couldn't believe McNeil would order his men to hit a woman, and twice in a row. Instantly, she fell silent.

“Keep talking,” McNeil said coldly. “One more wrong word, and I’ll have them knock out a tooth. We can continue until you have no teeth left.”

Patti trembled. “I… Hawthorne and I have a cooperative relationship.” She finally said it. The words “don’t hit women” seemed to be absent from McNeil’s vocabulary. She had never met such a ruthless man. But what she failed to see was the ferocity of a father protecting his daughter.

McNeil’s lips curved slightly. “Cooperative? In what way?” He snapped his fingers, and someone immediately handed him a piece of paper and a voice recorder.

Patti didn’t know what he was planning until McNeil instructed her to write and speak at the same time. “Write down the details of your cooperation with Hawthorne—the content, the form, everything. And as you write, read it out loud.”

Now, Patti was truly panicking. She couldn't write it, and she couldn't say it. McNeil had been so brutal; she had no idea what his ultimate goal was. If she revealed her plan with Hawthorne and James found out, he wouldn't spare her either.

“McNeil… no, Mr. Langford, please let me go. I’m pregnant. If you keep doing this, I’ll die.” She started to cry, but McNeil remained unmoved.

“So the child is Hawthorne’s?”

Patti decided to take one last risk, her eyes filled with tears. “Yes. Please, I’m begging you, spare me. I promise I’ll stop fighting with Gwyneth. I’ll take the child and live somewhere else.”

“But you just said you had a cooperative relationship with Hawthorne. So which story is the truth?” Patti was too flustered, her lies riddled with holes. “Since the child is Hawthorne’s, and he’s my son-in-law, that seed cannot be allowed to live.”

McNeil needed only to give a look, and Patti understood his intention. “No! You can’t! You can’t force me to have an abortion!” She wailed. Without this child, she would be worthless to both Hawthorne and James. “I’ll tell you the truth! It’s not Hawthorne’s! It’s another man’s!” In front of McNeil, all her little schemes were transparent.

“Whose?” he pressed.

Patti was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. “No, not James. I gave him the flash drive, and he left. I thought the car that came for me was the ride-share you called. It was a BMW 7-series, but it wasn’t yours.” She was nearly incoherent. Seeing that his plan hadn’t been compromised, Hawthorne’s patience began to wear thin. “Where are you now?”

Patti’s ability to form a coherent sentence had crashed. “I’m home. They sent me home.”

Hawthorne glanced up at the second floor. He thought he had seen Gwyneth on the balcony, but she had quickly ducked back inside when his car pulled up. “We’ll talk later. You should rest.”

But Patti wouldn’t let it go, her voice choked with tears. “You know this person! It’s Gwyneth’s father! McNeil! It was McNeil! He had his men beat my face until it was swollen!”

Hawthorne couldn’t help but let out a soft, humorless chuckle, which he quickly stifled. “You’re pregnant. Doing drugs isn’t good for the baby.”