The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 296

Victoria had never seen Osborn like this before—not once in all the years she'd known him.

"Osborn…"

She couldn't get another word out.

Moving to his side, she reached for him, wanting to offer some comfort. But suddenly, Osborn pulled her straight into his arms, holding her tight.

Startled, Victoria instinctively tried to pull away, but then she heard a strangled sound rise from deep in Osborn's throat.

"Don't move. Just… let me hold you. Just for a minute."

His head rested heavily on her shoulder. For a man in his late twenties, he seemed heartbreakingly vulnerable, more like a boy than a grown man.

Victoria felt her eyes sting as she let him hold her close. Without realizing it, her hand found its way to his back and she began to gently pat him, soothing as best she could.

"I've never felt so useless," Osborn choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm supposed to be the one protecting this family. Instead, I let three people—people old enough to be my parents—take the fall and go to prison for me. I'm pathetic."

He wept as he spoke, clutching her as if she were his only lifeline.

Victoria stayed still, letting him work through it, until at last he let her go. Only then did she notice the deep bite marks on his left hand, fresh blood oozing from the wounds. Clearly, he'd shoved his hand in his mouth to keep from crying out, desperate to muffle his sobs.

She remembered her first years with the Clark family—how Jed and his wife had doted on Osborn, and how they'd welcomed Victoria with open arms.

Osborn's grandfather was always booming at him, trailing after his only grandson with a mix of affection and bluster. He'd bark out criticisms, even brandishing his cane now and then, threatening to give Osborn a good whack—though he never actually did.

One thing was always clear: the Clarks genuinely loved their boy.

Osborn's rebellious streak had lasted since his teens, never really fading. Most men his age were already married, settled, carrying the weight of a family. But Osborn was still fighting, alone, against the family he'd been born into—torn between guilt over living off their wealth, and his endless urge to rebel against them.

But this time, Victoria sensed something different in him.

"Osborn, they'll be okay. I promise you, I won't let anything happen to them."

She knew all of this was tied to McNeil.

Years ago, she'd put everything on the line to build up McNeil's connections, helping him rise. Now, McNeil stood so high above her—both in power and in influence—that she couldn't even hope to catch up.

The knife Victoria had spent six years sharpening now turned in her own hand.

The person she'd once trusted and loved the most had become the one to cut her the deepest.

Osborn gripped her wrist tightly, his eyes burning with a resolve she'd never seen before.

"Vicky, don't get involved. You can't fix this. I won't have you threatened, and I absolutely won't let you beg anyone on my behalf."