The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 299

McNeil had all the trappings of old money—a privileged, aristocratic air beneath the polished veneer of a trust fund heir. The first time Victoria laid eyes on him, she was utterly captivated.

"Go upstairs and change. We're having dinner at Granddad's tonight. If he sees you dressed like this, he won't be pleased."

Victoria smirked inwardly.

So much for the "just the three of us going out to dinner" he'd promised. Turned out, they were heading back to the old family estate to see the patriarch.

No wonder McNeil hadn't cut her loose yet—she was still useful to him.

"Alright."

She didn't argue, just made her way to the room she hadn't set foot in for ages.

The moment she habitually flung open the closet doors, Victoria was stunned.

Her clothes—all of them—were neatly arranged inside. Same sizes, same styles, nothing missing, not even a single piece of lingerie. It was as if she'd never left at all.

But she vividly remembered packing every last item when she walked out the door.

Back then, McNeil's things were the only ones left behind.

Now, both their clothes had found their way back to their places, side by side.

Victoria pulled out a dress that fit her perfectly. Except for the faint scent of newness, everything was exactly as it had been before she left.

After changing, she glanced at herself in the mirror. The woman staring back was the same one who, for six years, had devoted herself to McNeil without a hint of regret.

But this time, there was something different in her eyes—a glint that hadn't been there before.

Her gaze drifted to the nightstand, where she spotted a fountain pen.

She walked over.

It was the special disappearing ink pen she'd bought for Gwyneth, meant for practicing letters—a kind of pen where the writing would vanish completely after half an hour. Gwyneth must have left it here the last time she was playing in the room. Victoria pocketed the pen before heading out.

Downstairs, McNeil stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, lost in thought, cigarette smoldering between his lips and one hand tucked into his pocket.

The sound of Victoria's footsteps pulled him from his reverie. He turned just as she began her descent down the spiral staircase, moving with a grace that made his breath catch.

Her steps were light and poised. The hair she usually wore loose was now swept up, with just a few delicate strands framing her face. Pearl earrings adorned her ears, catching the light, while her bright eyes seemed to sparkle with a thousand hidden stars.

Her figure was elegant in a knitted dress, the soft fabric tracing every curve and rippling with her movements.

Six years as McNeil's wife had transformed her—from an innocent girl into a woman of depth and allure. Yet time had left no trace of weariness on her face.

She was even more stunning than she'd been years ago, her beauty now touched by maturity.