The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 972

"Mom, I'm doing great. You don't need to worry about me. I'm finally free now that I've left the Sterling family."

She said the words, but deep down, she knew the truth. She could never truly escape the Sterling family's grasp. Never.

"You don't even have to say it. I know you couldn't stand being in that house," Mrs. Sterling said softly. "I understand. It's better that you don't come back. Your father never cared about you or your sister anyway."

At the mention of Wren, Maeve's body tensed.

"Wren... do you know where she is?"

Mrs. Sterling dabbed at the corners of her eyes. "She always knew how to please your father better than you did. She's so wild and loves to travel. She said she was going backpacking. Your father handed her a credit card, and she just left. She hasn't even contacted me. Whatever. I don't even have the energy to talk about your sister."

The heavy weight in Maeve's chest slowly lifted. It seemed her naive mother would never know the dark truth of what had actually happened within their family.

But then again, sometimes living in ignorance for a lifetime was the greatest mercy of all.

Mrs. Sterling kept staring at Maeve, as if she couldn't get enough of her daughter's face.

"Your father is an absolute monster. I wanted to look for you so badly these past two years, but he wouldn't let me go to the police. He refused to give me a single cent to hire investigators. He even claimed you probably just ran off with some boy. I had no power to fight him. All I could do was miss you every single day."

Maeve knew her mother had zero authority in the house. Alastair Sterling dictated everything.

On the surface, she and Wren were the glamorous daughters of the Sterling family. But behind closed doors, no one knew they were merely pawns in Alastair's ruthless games.

Whenever he needed them, they had to fall perfectly in line.

Because Alastair held all the cards. He used Mrs. Sterling, and their ailing grandmother Eleanor Green—who was clinging to life in a hospital bed—as leverage to control them.

Heh.

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