The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 429

She ignored McNeil and headed into her room to change, getting ready to go out.

She thought that once she stepped outside, at least she’d get a little peace and quiet. But to her surprise, McNeil—proud as ever—was still hanging around her place.

“Where do you think you’re going with that belly?” he asked, eyeing her up and down.

She’d traded her house clothes for a smart maternity outfit—sleek, sharp, the kind you’d expect on the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, not on a gentle, soft-spoken woman. The contrast made it all the more striking, and for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, it put him on edge.

“None of your business,” Victoria shot back. “McNeil, let’s get one thing straight—not only are we divorced, but even when you were my husband, you didn’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

It was only after the divorce that Victoria truly felt alive again. She could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted—she’d never felt so free.

“I’ll drive you,” McNeil offered, reaching for her arm.

Victoria jerked away. “No need. Someone’s already picking me up. I don’t need you.”

McNeil tried to keep his temper in check, but the doorbell started ringing insistently. The housekeeper opened the door, and Lyndon barged in with a rowdy group of teammates, filling the entryway with their laughter and noise.

“Oh, it’s you lot again. What are you doing here?” McNeil demanded, exasperated. They were always hanging around Victoria, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what they were after.

“Hey there, ex-brother-in-law! We’re taking our boss out for a little prenatal class,” Lyndon grinned, clapping Victoria on the shoulder.

McNeil felt a vein twitch in his forehead. Prenatal class? With this bunch? He didn’t buy it for a second.

“Victoria—” he started, but she was already moving past him.

“It’s getting late,” Victoria said, brushing him off. “We need to get going.”

He made to follow her, but Lyndon stepped in, blocking his path. “Sorry, Mr. Langford, but Vicky’s not Mrs. Langford anymore—you don’t really get a say in what she does.”

McNeil felt a lump in his throat. He could only watch as Victoria swept out the door, surrounded by her entourage like some kind of rock star.

He stayed rooted to the spot long after she was gone, barely noticing the housekeeper hovering nearby.

“Mr. Langford, Ms. Turner’s left,” the housekeeper said quietly. “She told us she won’t be home for lunch, so there’s no need to prepare anything for her—or for you.”