The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 338

“McNeil, do you remember what it felt like when I used to wait for you at home?” Victoria’s voice was calm, almost distant, as he gripped her wrist. Her eyes were empty, unfocused.

“What are you talking about?”

She looked at him with a mild indifference. “Have you ever waited for someone, McNeil? Really waited?”

He froze. Until tonight, he had never experienced that feeling.

He had never waited for her. He kept her at home, and no matter when he returned, he always found a devoted wife waiting. If he wanted to see her, she’d always be there, keeping their home warm and inviting.

But now, she shrugged off his grasp, mirroring the coldness and indifference he’d once shown her.

“I’m not going to argue about tonight. I made money, and I’m happy—why shouldn’t I be? You have no right to interfere with my life, McNeil.”

A wave of frustration surged in his chest. He clenched and unclenched his fists, but when faced with her accusation, he found himself at a loss for words.

The ride home was silent. It was late, and Gwyneth was already asleep.

Xenia was still up, waiting for them.

She watched as the couple entered, one after the other. Mrs. Langford’s face was icy cold, but Mr. Langford looked even worse. He didn’t have his usual air of dominance; instead, there was something wounded and resentful about him—a look Xenia had never seen before, as if he was frustrated by his wife’s indifference.

It used to be the other way around. Mrs. Langford would wait for her husband at home, or go out searching for him. But tonight, everything was different. Victoria was dressed strikingly, full of energy, while McNeil looked as if he’d had to drag her home against her will.

Xenia couldn’t make sense of it.

Victoria went upstairs, McNeil trailing behind.

They entered the master bedroom together. Victoria opened the wardrobe, pulling out clothes for a shower, while McNeil sat in the room, radiating anger.

He stared at the closed bathroom door, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He flicked his lighter several times, but the flame wouldn’t catch.

Eventually, he stepped out onto the balcony, finally managing to light the cigarette, though he never took a drag.

He stood there for what felt like hours, bathed in moonlight. By the time he returned inside, Victoria was already asleep in bed.

McNeil didn’t disturb her. He simply sat alone, awake through the night.

Victoria slept deeply. When she woke the next morning, McNeil was gone, and she felt an odd sense of relief.

She dressed and went downstairs. Xenia had already set out breakfast.

“Good morning, Mrs. Langford.”

Victoria glanced at the table—just one place setting. There was no trace that anyone else had eaten.

So McNeil had left early.