The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 475

“So you want to settle the score with me, McNeil? I knew you were an ungrateful backstabber.”

Violet’s voice hitched with a couple of sobs.

“That’s enough…”

McNeil’s reply wasn’t loud, but it cut straight through, cold and commanding.

“Save the tears. They don’t work on me anymore. You’re not sick—at best, you had a minor stomach bug.

I was careless before. I made the mistake of treating my savior like a saint, believing every word out of your mouth. I wrongly accused my own wife and let myself trust you completely.”

Violet stared at him, stunned, but her shock quickly gave way to fury.

“But you let all of this happen! You let me misread everything. You doted on me, treated me like I was the only one who mattered—what was I supposed to think? Who wouldn’t believe you were in love with them? And now you stand there, acting like I’m the one at fault? Isn’t that a joke?”

Every word was a needle, and McNeil felt each one strike home.

“I know this mess is on me. I let you misinterpret everything. But from now on, let’s set things right. We’ll both go back to our own lives and stay out of each other’s way.”

Violet clenched her fists, refusing to back down. “Dream on. You ruined my reputation. I can’t get a job anywhere in Starfall City, let alone find a decent husband. People think I’m Mrs. Langford, and you think you can just wave it all away with a few words?”

McNeil stubbed out his cigarette and looked at her coolly.

“Then what do you want?”

“Five million,” Violet shot back, her desperation barely masked by bravado. “You pay me, and I’ll disappear from your life forever.”

She was backed into a corner now, and she knew it. She’d assumed working at Golden Era Enterprises would be just like her old job at Quantum Core Technologies—sit in an office, order people around, easy as pie.

But reality hit hard. As PR manager, she was constantly running herself ragged, dealing with endless events and schmoozing. Her first month’s paycheck was only eight thousand.

When she finally got paid, she nearly laughed in disbelief.

Eight grand? A PR manager making less than ten? She’d made that in a day at Quantum Core. Begging on the street would’ve brought in more.

She’d gone to Simms to complain, only to be told she was lucky she’d even gotten that much—he’d tacked on an extra two grand just because she was his daughter.

Back at Quantum Core, that was pocket change for her. Violet figured she was worth far more, even on her worst day.

“I’ll write you a check. After this, we owe each other nothing.”

McNeil called Maynard over for his checkbook. Violet’s eyes widened as she watched him jot down figure after figure, her lips curling into a triumphant smile.

If she couldn’t have the man, at least with five million in the bank, she’d never have to worry about money in this life—or the next two.