The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Gwyneth bounced down the stairs, her business suit crisp and neat, but there was no hiding the glow of happiness in her cheeks or the sparkle in her eyes.

Hawthorne was waiting at the bottom, and as she leapt down the final step, he caught her up in his arms, lifting her off the ground. She almost shrieked, but her protest was swallowed by his kiss.

When he finally set her down, she blushed deeply and buried her face in his chest, too shy to look up.

"Someone might see us," she mumbled.

This house was always bustling—maids coming and going, the butler popping up whenever she needed something. The place was sprawling, the kind of grand estate where you never went long without bumping into staff.

Hawthorne stroked her silky hair and murmured, "There's no one here. Look around."

His gentle tone and teasing smile only made her more flustered. She pulled back and gave his chest a playful thump, pouting, "Don't do that again."

She knew she'd just seen one of the gardeners out in the yard. He was clearly fibbing. As much as she loved being close to him, she wasn't about to put on a show for the whole household.

"Alright, I'll behave," Hawthorne said, pulling her into his arms and patting her back softly.

Noticing the time, Gwyneth realized they needed to get going. Together, they headed for the office. As was their routine, she got out of the car a block away and walked the rest of the way to work, wanting to avoid office rumors. Hawthorne waited until she slipped through the company doors before speaking to Hans.

"Drive to my apartment," he instructed quietly.

Hans, his personal assistant, was a little puzzled but said nothing. After all, he knew better than to question Hawthorne's decisions.

When Hawthorne arrived at his apartment, Patti Yale had already heard the car pull into the driveway She was up, fully dressed and made up, and practically flew down the stairs to greet him, ready to throw herself into his arms.

"You're up early," Hawthorne said, his tone cool and distant.

Patti let out a soft laugh, recognizing the unchanging calm in his expression. "All these years, you're still the same. No wonder you haven't found anyone but me who can put up with you."

She draped her arms around his neck, her gaze smoldering with allure. Hawthorne remained impassive, letting her do as she pleased, though his body tensed involuntarily.

Gently, he took her hands and lowered them, choosing instead to hold her hand himself.

"You've always known what I'm like," he said quietly. "That's why I've stayed single all this time."noveldrama

His eyes flashed with a rare sharpness. Patti clung to him, her voice taking on a soft, teasing edge. "If you want to stop being single, I'm right here, you know."

Her expression turned serious. "Hawthorne, I've been thinking. I was selfish all those years ago. I knew how you felt, but I ignored it and chose to leave the country."

"That's enough—"

Her words dragged him back to the darkest chapter of his life. When the Everhart family was on the brink of ruin, he'd managed to pull them back from disaster. When his parents passed away, he stayed strong for days, arranging funerals and handling endless affairs.

But nothing hit him as hard as when Patti, after finally winning him over, announced she was leaving for America. That double blow nearly broke him.

For years, he buried himself in work, becoming a machine that felt nothing. Even

now, he hadn't truly escaped that shadow.

If it hadn't been for Gwyneth-her innocence, her unwavering trust, her willingness to marry him on barely more than a whim-he might never have found a reason to move forward.