The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 980

Layne spoke with absolute, unwavering seriousness. Maeve looked at him evenly, letting out a soft, flat sigh. Her voice was entirely devoid of emotion.

"I understand. I won't make jokes like that again. Layne, I'm feeling completely drained. Do you mind if I just go to sleep early today?"

She had zero energy left to argue about a damn housekeeper. Her mind was entirely consumed by the devastating reality of Quinton and Delilah.

When exactly did their affair start? Maeve obsessively replayed her memories. When she was still with Quinton, Delilah had practically been a third wheel in their relationship.

She never in a million years imagined Quinton would actually look twice at Delilah. That was her best friend. How could Delilah do something so viciously cruel?

She had shared every intimate detail of her nights with Quinton with Delilah. She had told her exactly how it felt to kiss him, how his hands felt on her skin. Didn't Delilah feel utterly sick to her stomach taking her leftovers?

Layne, meanwhile, still believed Maeve's icy withdrawal was a result of her psychological trauma. He completely understood why the encounter downstairs had left her emotionally exhausted.

"This is going to be our bedroom from now on. If you need anything, just call me. Dinner will be ready soon. Do you want to rest a bit and come down to eat, or should I bring a tray up for you?"

Maeve felt physically nauseous at the thought of eating. But she also couldn't risk fueling Layne's suspicions by acting too bratty. She absolutely refused to go downstairs and look at Mrs. Shannon's smug face. Every time she saw the old woman, she was violently reminded of her own spectacular failure.

It was a suffocating wave of despair. If she had her way, Mrs. Shannon would be lying in an ICU bed on life support, permanently erased from her life.

"Could you bring it up? I'd rather just eat in bed."

She looked so incredibly fragile, as if the trauma had completely hollowed her out. Layne obliged without argument and headed downstairs.

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