The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

At the time, Yvette was still at the office, and rumors were swirling everywhere.

"Gwyn, was it really that older guy?"

The question nearly made Gwyneth burst out laughing.

She knew her colleagues weren't the gossipy type, nor were they trying to poke fun at her.

"No, my husband isn't an old man, but he is older than me," she replied with a smile.

Turning thirty hardly counted as old, she thought. She wondered how Hawthorne would react if he overheard all this.

"So, who is he? What does he do? Is he handsome?"

The barrage of questions came so fast Gwyneth could barely keep up.

She didn't bother playing coy and answered them one by one-though not in too much detail. Still, without having met the man in person, everyone remained a little skeptical.

Their curiosity about Gwyneth was eventually overtaken by the marvels inside the gallery.

Hawthorne's exhibition of ancient manuscripts and artifacts was held on the third floor. The display featured a dazzling array of treasures-most were in need of restoration, while a few remarkable pieces had already been expertly repaired by leading specialists.

There were antique vases, old paintings, jewelry-every kind of relic imaginable.

Gwyneth paused when she spotted an ancient jade hairpin on display. For a moment, she was stunned.

She recognized it instantly. Years ago, an anonymous collector had tracked her down to repair that very piece. She'd only charged a modest fee, more out of passion than profit.

She never expected to see it again, let alone here. The hairpin had once belonged to a queen-an extraordinary artifact by any measure.

Everyone was deep in admiration, marveling at the craftsmanship of long-lost artisans, when a commotion erupted near the entrance.

"I'm sorry, only ticket holders are allowed inside. No unauthorized personnel," said a security guard.

A strikingly glamorous woman,

flanked by five men in black suits, strode toward the exhibit with her head held high. She had just one ticket but her entourage followed closely behind, only to be stopped by security.

"I always travel with my bodyguards. What if something happens? Are you prepared to take responsibility?" she said nose in the air, not ever bothering to look the guard in the eye.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but your bodyguards can't come in," the guard replied firmly.

The woman crossed her arms, exuding an icy arrogance.noveldrama

"What if I told you I'm Mrs. Everhart? Are you saying I can't enter my own family's gallery?"

All eyes turned toward her, including Gwyneth's.

Mrs. Everhart? "She looks so familiar," someone whispered. "Didn't we see her at the mall the other day?"

"I think so. She used Mr. Everhart's credit card, didn't she? Could she really be Mrs. Everhart?"

Gwyneth frowned slightly. Mrs. Everhart? Credit card?

She was sure she hadn't misheard. A mistake could happen once, but not twice in

a row.

"Even if Mr. Everhart himself wanted

to come

the que, he'd still need a ticket

the guard said firmly. "If you have business with him, you'll need to speak to him directly."

Clearly, the security staff weren't buying it. If she wanted special treatment, only Hawthorne himself could grant it either in person or by phone.

Patti Yale tried to bluff her way in, but with everyone watching, she had no choice

but to call Hawthorne. The line was busy; she couldn't get through.

Left with no other option, she finally gave up.

Her bodyguards remained outside while Patti wandered the gallery alone.

Gwyneth gave her a glance, then lost interest.

The woman was undeniably beautiful, but Gwyneth couldn't imagine Hawthorne being interested in someone like her.

Not that Gwyneth was particularly confident in herself—she just found something off-putting about Patti, like a spoiled debutante who didn't know the meaning of restraint.

Hawthorne was calm and reserved. A woman like that? Not even the average trust-fund kid would want to marry her, let alone someone like him.