The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 140

Violet dropped the pretense entirely. She took the smartwatch from Gwyneth’s hand and turned on the speaker.

“Victoria, let’s talk—just the two of us.”

On the eighty-eighth floor of The Summit Suites, the city’s skyline shimmered through floor-to-ceiling windows. In the softly lit sky lounge, a violinist played a gentle melody on stage while small lamps flickered on every table, their candlelight dancing in the warm air.

The meeting was set for eight, but Violet arrived a full hour late.

Victoria waited, unhurried, sipping her coffee. She’d ordered a delicate slice of cake, which she ate with a silver spoon—each small bite precise, careful, and effortlessly graceful.

Violet strode in, dressed in a crisp white blazer over a beige knee-length skirt—her entire look all sharp lines and businesslike efficiency. Several heads turned as she walked past, drawn by her commanding presence.

But the woman by the window, quietly leafing through a magazine, had already caught the room’s attention. Victoria’s poise and beauty were impossible to ignore; everyone who glanced her way was visibly struck.

Violet took the seat across from her. Her makeup was flawless, her expression touched with a hint of arrogance, though she masked it well.

“Victoria—”

She stared at Victoria for several long seconds before speaking, her words slow and deliberate. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Victoria closed the magazine, sitting up straighter, her gaze steady and unafraid as she met Violet’s eyes.

Violet seemed to expect a reaction, but Victoria said nothing.

“You know, I really don’t care if you keep playing Mrs. Langford,” Violet continued, her tone light but edged with condescension. “There was no need to make a scene. Victoria, you’re not cut out for the professional world.”

She lifted her coffee, took a sip, and, though the bitterness was unmistakable, wore an expression of contentment.

“I get it. You want to prove yourself to McNeil, prove you’re more than a trophy wife—try to emulate those women who ‘have it all.’ But you’ve failed, haven’t you?”

Violet set her cup down gently. “Let’s talk numbers. How much to get you to fix that game? Everyone has a price. I figured you’d go this route, waiting for us to come begging.”