The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 1

Today marked Victoria Turner and McNeil Langford’s sixth wedding anniversary. But instead of celebrating with his wife, McNeil had taken their daughter to a birthday party—for his mistress.

Sitting behind the wheel of her sedan, Victoria watched in silence as her husband, their little girl, and the woman he’d hidden for six years celebrated together.

The young woman wore a bright red dress, bold and eye-catching. Their daughter was dressed in a matching outfit, the picture of innocence. McNeil stayed by their side, laughing and playing, looking every bit the proud father and devoted partner. To anyone else, they could have been mistaken for a perfect little family.

“Violet, happy birthday. This is my gift to you,” McNeil said, opening an elegantly wrapped jewelry box.

Victoria’s eyes locked onto the box as he slowly revealed its contents, and all the color drained from her face.

It was her mother’s emerald necklace—the one McNeil had borrowed, claiming he needed it for “something important.”

She remembered how, years ago, Violet Marchand had seen it around her neck and remarked offhandedly, “McNeil, I love that necklace. I wish I had one just like it.”

Now, her husband was presenting the last thing her mother left her to another woman.

“Gwyn, come here and give Violet a kiss,” McNeil coaxed, gently guiding their daughter toward Violet.

Victoria pressed a hand to her chest. Gwyn—her daughter, the child she’d carried for nine months—had never warmed to anyone but her. She couldn’t imagine her little girl embracing another woman.

But then—

Gwyn leaned in and kissed Violet right on the forehead, then wrapped her in a big, affectionate hug.

“Violet, could you be my mommy too?” she asked, her voice sweet and trusting.

Victoria’s mind reeled. When had Gwyn become so close to Violet?

Gwyneth Langford was the daughter McNeil had begged her to have. After a traumatic ectopic pregnancy that nearly cost Victoria her life, she’d been terrified at the prospect of another child. The Langford family had always passed down the family name through only sons, and McNeil was their sole heir. When she confessed her fears, McNeil had promised her it didn’t matter if they had a boy or a girl; their child would be cherished.

She’d heard rumors that Violet had nearly become the new Mrs. Langford—but she hadn’t been able to have children.

Now, Victoria wondered if McNeil was encouraging Gwyn to bond with Violet… Was he hoping to hand their daughter over to her?

She closed her eyes, unwilling to follow that line of thought any further.

Six years of marriage, months of pregnancy and pain, all for this. For love, she’d nearly died. And for what?

Had she just been a tool for McNeil all along?