The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 267

Violet had followed him around since she was little, like a loyal shadow. If McNeil still felt any lingering attachment to Violet, it was probably the kind of affection reserved for family.

His father had died when he was just a child, and his mother had always been consumed by the Langford family's fortune and her own lavish life as a wealthy woman. Madonna Nelson never showed much concern for him, either.

The only warmth McNeil ever knew came from the occasional words of care shared among his childhood friends. When Violet wasn't ill, she could be sweet to him, too. His love for her as a brother would always remain.

But Victoria was different. It was only with her that McNeil learned what real love and family meant. Victoria always seemed to know what he was thinking, picking up on every glance, every tiny gesture. She understood him completely. Victoria was like his right hand—he couldn't imagine life without her. If he was honest, he didn't want to lose a wife like that.

Yet, somewhere along the way, Victoria changed. Her heart drifted, no longer focused on him. Instead, she was constantly surrounded by other men, her attention elsewhere.

In the dark, Victoria could feel McNeil's gaze linger on her after he'd checked on their daughter. He stared so long it sent a chill down her spine. Lying on her side, one shoulder growing numb, she didn't dare move with McNeil in the room.

A few minutes passed. Then Victoria felt the brush of warm breath against her face, followed by the familiar scent of pine—uniquely McNeil's. In the darkness, he kissed her forehead, then her lips.

Victoria froze, stunned. McNeil was clearly awake; surely, he wouldn't mistake her for Violet.

"Good night, Mrs. Langford," he murmured.