The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 21

It was the first time Madonna had ever heard Victoria speak to her in that tone. Usually, in front of the Langfords, Victoria barely dared to breathe, let alone raise her voice. Now, Madonna was so furious she could hardly keep her hands steady. To make matters worse, a cacophony of noise erupted in her ear—she could barely make out Victoria’s words over the din.

“What is that racket? I’m talking to you—where are you, at a construction site or something?”

It sounded like she was standing on the edge of a busy city intersection, engines roaring and horns blaring on all sides.

But Victoria didn’t answer. She simply hung up.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket and turned to face Osborn Clark, whose excitement was practically vibrating off him.

“Is it fixed?” he blurted out, unable to contain himself.

Victoria stood tall in front of him, a glint of pride in her eyes. “See for yourself.”

Osborn barely glanced at the car. “No need. How much do I owe you? I’ll write a check right now.”

Victoria just smiled, cool and collected. “It’s on the house.”

He shook his head. “Half a million. Does that cover it?”

When this car had first been towed to Victoria’s shop, it was little more than a battered frame—his first F1 championship car, the one that had won him his initial trophy. Even after it had been wrecked, scorched, and nearly drowned, Osborn couldn’t bring himself to scrap it. He’d knelt beside it for hours, weeping openly, unable to let go.

He’d only discovered Victoria was in Echo City because of a post she’d made to her friends online. The moment he saw it, he’d rushed over, barely stopping to catch his breath.

Victoria had been stunned the moment she saw the car. But after just three seconds, she’d rattled off the Ferrari’s model number and promised to have it fully restored within a day.

Osborn thought he must have misheard. But then she called in her old Echo City pit crew, and when he’d come by to check on their progress, there it was—a gleaming, reborn SF1000, looking as if it had rolled straight off the showroom floor.

“Give the money to them,” Victoria said, nodding at the two rows of engineers assembled behind her. They stood shoulder to shoulder, faces shining with the thrill of a job well done.

Victoria pulled off her baseball cap, letting her long dark hair tumble down like a waterfall. Clad in her slate-grey coveralls, she looked every bit the same force of nature who used to lead crisis repairs on the racetrack years ago.

Osborn watched her, knowing full well she was married now, yet unable to stop himself from asking the one question he was certain she’d turn down.