The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 382

Violet had always insisted: whenever Dad and Mom were together, she must sit between them—only then would people think she was a happy, well-loved child.

Gwyneth thought Violet had a point. But lately, she couldn’t help noticing that Dad seemed to have lost interest in her. He was always glued to Mom’s side.

She wanted so badly to squeeze herself in between them, but Dad wouldn’t allow it.

“What do you want to eat? I’ll get it for you,” McNeil said, ignoring his daughter as he sat close beside Victoria, focused solely on looking after her.

Victoria quietly tasted a bite of her food, never meeting McNeil’s eyes.

He acted as if nothing had happened today—as if she hadn’t sued him in court just hours before.

What truly baffled Victoria was that, even though he’d skipped the hearing, he could come home and cook dinner for her and Gwyneth as if nothing was amiss.

With their daughter at the table, Victoria knew she couldn’t bring up the divorce. No need to risk unsettling a child’s heart and mind.

After all, at just five years old, Gwyneth probably had no real grasp of what divorce even meant.

McNeil never touched his own food, spending the whole meal serving Victoria and their daughter—pouring drinks, peeling shrimp, seeing to their every need. At one point, when he noticed a bit of soup at the corner of Victoria’s lips, he instinctively reached for a napkin, halfway to dabbing her mouth before seeming to remember something. He paused, then simply handed her the napkin.

“Here. Wipe your mouth,” he said, gesturing toward her lips.

Victoria took the napkin without thinking. After she finished, she murmured, “Thank you.”

McNeil faltered, the faintest flicker passing through his dark eyes before all emotion receded. He picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and set it down.

“Is there really nothing else left for us to talk about?” he asked quietly.

Victoria stilled, her fork midway to her mouth. At that moment, Gwyneth set down her own fork, announcing, “Mom, Dad, I’m going upstairs to play. Don’t forget to call me when it’s time for birthday candles!”

Dad had said she had to wait until midnight to blow out her candles, but since tomorrow was Saturday, she could stay up late. She’d heard about a new game and couldn’t wait to try it.

As for her parents’ strange mood, Gwyneth didn’t notice a thing. Grown-up problems were still a world away.