The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 525

Gwyneth was speechless.

“So he plans to keep tabs on me twenty-four-seven?”

Seriously, was he really that bored? She’d already said she was leaving—did he honestly think she’d try to kill Leonie?

Hans’s expression didn’t change. “Miss Langford, this is the CEO’s instruction. Only you and he know the exact circumstances.”

Only they knew, huh? The only one who really knew was Hawthorne himself. Gwyneth had no idea why he hovered around her like a specter, refusing to let her go and conveniently assigning her work—obviously just another excuse to keep her under surveillance.

“Miss Langford, finding a good job isn’t easy. Please don’t make things difficult for me.”

That was a bit much, Gwyneth thought. Hans was just being polite—if she really tried to run, what was Hawthorne going to do, fire his own assistant? Still, Hans wasn’t someone you could easily shake off. She probably wouldn’t get away that easily.

She had no choice but to accept her fate.

“Fine. I need to stop by the hotel to grab my things.”

Hans followed Gwyneth out to the front of the building, where Hawthorne had already pulled up the car.

No chauffeur—he was behind the wheel himself.

Without a word, Gwyneth opened the back door and slid in.

Hawthorne glanced at her and was just about to pull away when someone rapped on the window.

Yvette’s face appeared in the partially lowered glass. She clearly hadn’t expected to find anyone else in Hawthorne’s car.

Hawthorne’s brow creased slightly, but Yvette was so surprised she forgot what she’d planned to say.

“Is there something you need?” Hawthorne’s tone was cool—he made no move to open the door.

“Hawthorne, I need a ride. My car’s in the shop for maintenance today; can you drop me off somewhere?” Her words were phrased like a request, but there was no hint of uncertainty.

Spotting Gwyneth in the back seat, Yvette’s discomfort was obvious. She knew Gwyneth was just Hawthorne’s niece’s friend, but that didn’t stop the sting. After all, she’d known Hawthorne for ages and never once been in his car.

Gwyneth spoke up instinctively, “If you need to give her a lift, I’ll just call a cab. No sense going out of your way.”

Hawthorne didn’t hesitate—not even a hint of conflict in his expression.

“It’s not on the way. You’ll have to get a cab,” he said, addressing Yvette. She watched, stunned, as the window slid up in her face.