The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 388

Violet’s face drained of color. She’d come here to tell the old man that she could have children, hoping he’d finally agree to her marriage with McNeil. She never imagined he’d go this far.

“You can’t do this to me,” she pleaded. “All these years, I’ve stood by McNeil’s side. You can’t just take away my womb—if you do, how am I supposed to have children?”

The old man’s gaze was icy, his tone sharper than a blade.

“That’s your problem. I never intended for you to carry on the Langford family line. Someone like you? Hardly worthy.”

He despised nothing more than people acting behind his back. In his world, he alone held the reins; only his word counted. Anyone who tried to play games with him would pay the price.

Women like Violet, who thought they could climb the social ladder by having a child, were nothing new to him. In his youth, he’d seen plenty—and even been targeted by a few himself. But no matter how desperate the Langfords were for an heir, he’d never allow some outsider’s child into the family.

Violet was no match for the old man’s cunning. She’d thought he was merely trying to scare her, but when he actually dragged her to a dark room in the family’s old estate, panic truly set in.

She was strapped to a bed. Twenty minutes later, the door creaked open, and someone entered with a syringe of anesthetic.

Now Violet knew he was serious. She broke down, sobbing.

“I’m sorry! Please, I was only joking, I won’t fight you anymore. I can’t have children, just don’t do this to me—please, don’t take my womb!”

The old man’s cold voice drifted in from the hallway:

“If you can’t have children, then it doesn’t matter whether you have a womb or not. I’m not risking the Langford name for someone like you.

If you want to stay with McNeil, that’s your business. After the procedure, you two can do whatever you want together.

I’ve tolerated you long enough. It’s your own arrogance and greed that brought you here.”

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her as if she were nothing.

The anesthesia hit, and Violet slipped into darkness.

When she finally woke, harsh overhead lights stabbed at her eyes. She was lying on an operating table, her abdomen aching dully.

Tears streamed down her face.

It was gone. Her womb. She could never have children now—no miracle in the world could change that.