The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 794

Hawthorne glanced at her, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Who said it's just the two of us? James is bringing someone here to discuss business. When he sees you here by my side, he'll trust you even more. When this deal goes through, you'll get some of the credit, won't you?” Patti's expression tightened. So Hawthorne had only brought her here because he had a business dinner. It wasn't a special, private candlelit dinner for two in the most exclusive room in the city. She had let her imagination run away with her.

One of the nearby waitresses stifled a laugh. Patti shot her a vicious glare, and the waitress immediately fell silent, pretending nothing had happened. Feeling utterly humiliated, Patti fumed inwardly, but she couldn't cause a scene. After all, she wasn't Hawthorne's real girlfriend. Their relationship was purely transactional. Besides, this was a good chance to ask James about the progress on her father's case.

“Go wait outside for now. I'll bring you in when he arrives,” Hawthorne instructed, having someone lead Patti to another private room. In the adjacent room, Patti took out her frustration on the staff. One moment she was demanding tea and water, the next she was complaining about the snacks, finding fault with everything. Her pregnancy was already making her moods volatile, and she tormented each of the waitresses in turn, who could only suffer in silence. She was Mr. Everhart's guest, after all, and they couldn't risk offending her. Some recognized her as the woman from the gossip columns, which made them even more cautious.

Two hours later, James finally arrived, trailing behind Mr. Pierce, bowing and scraping like a fawning puppy. He had expected a warm welcome from Hawthorne himself but was greeted only by the restaurant manager. James's face fell. “Where's your Mr. Everhart? I don't see him.” The manager looked at James apologetically. “My apologies, Mr. James. Mr. Everhart was called away on urgent business. He asked me to ensure you are well taken care of.” James muttered that it was fine, that business comes first, but inwardly he seethed at Hawthorne's arrogance. *Just wait until I secure this project,* he thought. *You'll get what's coming to you.*

When the dishes were served, Mr. Pierce was thoroughly impressed. He saw that James was treating him like royalty, with a banquet of the finest seafood. Both men were accustomed to luxury, and they were extremely satisfied with the lavish spread. This was the kind of opulence befitting men of their stature.

Soon, the wine was brought out—bottles of Château Lafite, each worth over half a million dollars. The atmosphere was perfectly set. Amid the clinking of glasses, before James could even bring it up, Mr. Pierce produced the contract himself. With their entourages as witnesses, they signed the agreement in a mood of drunken cheer. James, completely intoxicated, barely glanced at the terms of the contract. His eyes were fixed on the billions.

With the contract signed, both James and Mr. Pierce breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief. One was thinking, *I finally landed the big one,* while the other thought, *I finally found a fall guy.* In truth, the project wasn't entirely a lost cause; it just needed someone with powerful enough backing to handle the fallout. Mr. Pierce had initially approached Hawthorne, hoping to leverage his connection to the Langford family. But since Hawthorne had turned him down and James was so desperate to jump in, signing with him was the obvious next move.

Only after the contracts were signed did Hawthorne make his entrance. Because the evening had been arranged so perfectly to Mr. Pierce's liking and the deal had been sealed smoothly, James felt a strange sense of grudging admiration for Hawthorne. If he weren't such a ruthless competitor, they might have even become friends. But that thought was about to vanish in the next second.

As Hawthorne walked in, everyone raised their glasses. He politely clinked glasses with James and Mr. Pierce. After they all downed their drinks, James leaned in close to Hawthorne, full of praise. “Mr. Everhart, your arrangements are truly impeccable. Thank you, thank you.” He refilled his glass, ready to toast Hawthorne again, but Hawthorne didn't accept. Instead, he leaned in, empty glass in hand, and whispered in his ear. “You're too kind, Mr. James. But you're the one with the deep pockets. This dinner alone is three million. All top-tier ingredients, flown in fresh. When you told me you wanted to book this room yesterday, I immediately had my people source the finest ingredients from abroad. They arrived here just two hours ago.”