The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 996

Layne realized he hadn't checked in on Leonie in a few days. Between arranging the funerals and managing the sudden corporate chaos, he simply hadn't had the bandwidth. Still, knowing his aunt was staying with her gave him peace of mind.

Maeve, uncharacteristically obedient, offered a soft hum. "I'm going to take a shower."

She hopped down from the high balcony stool a little too quickly and nearly twisted her ankle.

Layne caught her instantly, pulling her flush against his chest.

"Careful. I always thought you were incredibly composed. I didn't know you could be this clumsy."

Since catching a glimpse of her unguarded side, Layne found her vastly more vibrant.

She was no longer wearing the carefully constructed mask of the perfect, gentle girlfriend. She felt alive, unpredictable. Sometimes, Layne wondered if he was losing his mind or if he had just met an entirely new version of her.

Maeve pushed against his chest half-heartedly. "I can walk perfectly fine. Leave me alone."

She hadn't touched a drop of alcohol today, yet her playful defiance held a stubborn, spoiled edge. Layne found himself utterly captivated.

He gently pulled her back, a slight crease forming on his forehead. "Maeve, behave. You were never like this before."

But she kept up her rebellious streak. She finally understood why she had always favored Quinton's memory over Layne's reality. The woman she was acting like right now was the real Maeve from two years ago—flawed, willful, and hurting. Quinton had tolerated her true self.

With Layne, she had been meticulously acting the part of a gentle, sophisticated heiress, suppressing her real personality to make him psychologically dependent on her.

That had been Alastair's master plan all along. He wanted to devour the Everhart empire, and he knew that for men like Layne and Hawthorne Everhart, a soft, loving trap was the deadliest weapon of all.

Now that Layne had seen behind the curtain, Maeve was completely exhausted by the charade.

Being herself felt dangerously liberating.

Layne knew the difference between a serious argument and playful banter.

Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms, earning a string of startled shrieks.

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