The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 197

Oh my God, it’s Vivian! She’s the first woman ever to beat out an entire field of male drivers and take first place. To the men, she’s nothing short of a living legend—a goddess they can only dream of reaching.

The crowd went wild, the energy in the arena absolutely electric. Even some fans who’d been rooting for other racers found themselves swept up in the excitement, suddenly cheering for Vivian.

Photographers and reporters all aimed their massive telephoto lenses at Vivian, eager to catch a close-up of the day’s brightest star.

But just as luck would have it, a breeze swept across Victoria’s face, sending her long hair spilling forward and obscuring her features. The best the cameras could capture was a fleeting profile—a glimpse of her cheek, but nothing more. It was just like last time, back during the test run: not one clear shot of her face.

The photographers refused to give up, but by the time they tried for another angle, Victoria had already slipped on her helmet and, flanked by her team, was whisked safely away. In the end, not a single outlet managed to track down “Vivian’s” whereabouts.

Meanwhile, McNeil motioned for the bodyguards to take Gwyneth away so he could check on Violet himself.

But Gwyneth wouldn’t budge. Tears welled up in her eyes as she clung to McNeil’s arm. “Daddy, is Violet going to die?”

McNeil frowned and gently stroked Gwyneth’s hair. “No, she’s not. I promise. I’m going to see her now. You need to wait here.”

No amount of pleading could change his mind. Violet’s car was engulfed in flames, but thankfully, the paramedics managed to pull her out. The Halo system had saved her life.

Violet wasn’t in critical condition, but she had two broken ribs.

When McNeil heard she was alive, he finally let out a shaky breath. Even so, like the rest of the crowd, he couldn’t help glancing over to where the new champion had stood just moments ago.

She was far off now, but something about that woman struck him as strangely familiar.

“McNeil—”

Violet’s voice was barely more than a whisper, thin and weak as she called his name.

“We’re taking you to the hospital now,” he said gently. “Don’t try to talk.”

He rode with Violet in the ambulance as, elsewhere, Victoria was being hustled away from the crowds by her team.