The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 270

Every word out of Violet's mouth dripped with sarcasm directed at Victoria.

Hearing her, Victoria couldn't help but frown—not because she felt attacked or stung by Violet's biting remarks, but because something deeper unsettled her.

She knew her daughter had always liked Violet, and from the way her little girl talked about her, it seemed Violet was fond of Gwyneth, too.

But after Gwyneth had gone missing, spent the night with a fever, and now was suffering from a swollen face and a toothache, Victoria couldn't help but wonder: shouldn't Violet's first concern, for Gwyneth's sake if nothing else, be the child's well-being?

Instead, Violet seemed more irritated that Victoria's family emergency had interrupted her work, her expression betraying not a hint of genuine concern for Gwyneth.

Whether Georgia had handed over the wrong files by accident or on purpose, trying to pin the blame on Victoria, none of that really mattered now.

Victoria had no intention of offering any explanations.

"I understand. I'll be more careful in the future," she said quietly.

"In the future?" Violet arched an eyebrow. "Do you really think something like this should have a ‘next time,' Ms. Turner? I expect this never to happen again. If you'd rather focus on being a devoted wife and mother to the Garcia family, then perhaps you should quit and tend to your household. But if you truly want to be an independent woman with a career, you need to understand: sometimes, you have to make sacrifices."

Violet glanced down at the documents in her hand, her voice brisk and businesslike. "Leave them here and go. If you're struggling to juggle everything, hire a full-time nanny. Quantum Core Technologies isn't a charity."

Her cold, impersonal tone made Victoria's fists clench involuntarily.

She left Violet's office in silence. Outside, Georgia had clearly overheard everything. The look she gave Victoria was laced with open disdain.

Back in the tech department, the manager approached her with concern. "Are you all right?"

Everyone in the office knew—at least in hushed tones—that Ms. Marchand seemed to have it out for Victoria.

"I'm fine. Just dropping off some documents," Victoria replied, not a hint of complaint in her voice.

That afternoon, she got a message from McNeil, letting her know she didn't need to pick up Gwyneth from school that evening.

She'd already planned to spend some time with her daughter, so when she saw the message on her phone, she stared at it for a long moment.

Then she simply set her phone aside, not bothering to reply.

The truth was, she and McNeil had reached a quiet, mutual understanding—whatever bond they had was now little better than what existed between strangers.

Their conversations never went beyond Gwyneth or work; any other topics were off the table.

Meanwhile, McNeil sat in his office, reviewing the file Maynard had brought in about Victoria.

Most of it was information he already knew. Except for one thing: after graduating from Northriver University, Victoria had traveled alone to the South for further study. For several years, her resume was almost a blank slate. McNeil had told Maynard to dig deeper, but nothing had turned up.