The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 865

This was the man he had been warring against for years—someone younger, more handsome, fiercely independent, and holding absolute control over his own destiny. Seeing him, James felt a nauseating cocktail of terror and intense jealousy.

He was terrified because he knew he could never measure up to Hawthorne. James was, at his core, a small-timer who couldn't handle the big leagues. Hawthorne was different—a natural-born apex predator, gifted with terrifying business acumen and strategic brilliance.

He had fought his way out of adversity, engineered a flawless comeback, and dragged his family's nearly bankrupt empire straight to the top of the industry.

Meanwhile, James had leached off the absolute best resources Greenvale had to offer, only to end up bankrupt, divorced, and staring down a prison sentence.

"Long time no see, Mr. Mercer."

James's usual arrogance had been completely shattered by his ex-wife. Facing Hawthorne now, he didn't even have the energy to bark.

"You're here to laugh at me. Well, you've seen it. Get the hell out!"

Hawthorne stared at James with a predatory gaze that could cut glass.

"I'm not here to laugh at you. I'm here to settle our final score. Do you remember what you've done, or do you need a reminder?"

He placed the audio recording of Patti Yale's confession squarely on the table. The moment Patti's voice filled the room, James's face contorted, his lips twitching erratically as if he were having a stroke.

When the clip ended, James still tried to play dumb.

"Hawthorne, you're the mighty CEO of Greenvale. How can you believe the words of a bitch like that? Hasn't she screwed you over enough already? You just swallow whatever she says?

She's slept with countless men. She claims the kid in her belly is mine—where's the proof? Where's the evidence? She says I conspired with her to ruin you—how is that even possible?

I've been drowning in my company's IPO and finalizing the contract with Mr. Pierce. When would I possibly have the time to come after you? If I really had that kind of power, I wouldn't be rotting in this chair right now."

James knew his empire had crumbled. If Hawthorne delivered the final blow, it would be the nail in his coffin.

Life in prison at least meant he was breathing; a bullet meant next year would mark his death anniversary.

"You certainly don't have that power now, but you used to. Finding someone to tamper with my car... If I hadn't gotten lucky, I'd be pushing up daisies by now."

James didn't have the energy to deny it anymore. He was a lamb waiting for the slaughter, completely devoid of a future. He decided to lay all his cards on the table.

"You didn't come all the way here just to gloat or kick me while I'm down. My ex-wife abandoned me. I have nowhere left to run. Everyone is taking their turn beating a dead horse. Crushing me now won't prove how capable you are."

Hawthorne idly spun the ring on his finger. It was part of the matching set he shared with Gwyneth Langford. He treated it like his most prized possession, refusing to ever take it off.

"Of course I'm not here to kick you while you're down. Quite the opposite—I'm here to save you."

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