The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Gwyneth was completely absorbed in her reading when her phone buzzed with a new message. Her first thought was that it might be Connor-she dreaded the idea, so she didn't dare check it right away.

Several seconds passed before she finally, almost reluctantly, fished out her phone. It turned out the message was from Hawthorne.

“There's an auction in Greenvale tomorrow. I need you to attend for me.”

Her curiosity was instantly piqued.

An auction usually meant expensive jewelry or antiques.

She'd wandered through his villa several times, and aside from a few valuable artifacts, she hadn't noticed any particular obsession on his part for collecting things.

"Is it a gift for someone?" she replied, thinking that was the only reasonable explanation.

He sent back a brief, indifferent "Yeah."

Gwyneth agreed right away. After all, she'd been tagging along with him like a freeloader for so long; it felt good to finally do something helpful.

They chatted for a while longer, until he suddenly asked, "It's late, why aren't you asleep yet?"

She hesitated, just about to reply, when another message popped up: “Get some rest. Goodnight."

For some reason, Gwyneth felt a little let down. It took her several minutes before she texted back a simple, "Okay."

Meanwhile, Hawthorne exited the chat and stared at the day's news footage.

There was a three-minute segment, and for nearly half of it, the camera was fixed on a man and a woman's faces.

His gaze sharpened, almost slicing through the screen, as the shot froze on the pair holding hands.

So, this was why Gwyneth hadn't come to France with him—she'd made plans with another man.

He couldn't quite explain the surge of jealousy rising inside him. Right now, he had half a mind to jump on a flight home and demand an explanation.

But in the end, he restrained himself. Women were trouble when they had too much free time, and men-like flies-never missed a chance to hover around a pretty face.

Clearly, he couldn't let his wife get bored; he needed to keep her occupied with things that would hold her attention.

He recognized the man in the video: Marcus Green's nephew, who'd moved to Greenvale from Starfall City more than a decade ago.

Hawthorne's eyes narrowed. Starfall City-Gwyneth's hometown as well.

He checked the time; he'd been sitting on the hotel sofa for over three hours, and dawn was already breaking outside.

Finally, he turned off his phone screen.

***

The next morning, while Leonie was still fast asleep, Gwyneth was already up.

The butler was surprised to see her coming downstairs, especially since she was dressed to the

aver

nines-elegant and formal, brows drawn in concentration.

Sir had left yesterday and wasn't expected back today.

Just yesterday, Gwyneth had been wearing a simple work outfit. Now, at this early

hour, she was so impeccably put-together-where could she be headed?

But the affairs of the household

weren't his place to question. Instead, the butler showed his- professionalism: ten minutes later, a lavish breakfast was ready on the table.

Gwyneth surveyed the beautiful presentation and appetizing food, almost reluctant to ruin the arrangement.

But time was running short. Hawthorne had said to arrive at eight; the auction

would start at nine. Now, she had barely half an hour left.

She quickly finished her meal, downed her milk in one go, and found Hans already waiting at the door.

"Ma'am, Mr. Everhart asked me to drive you."

The butler watched Gwyneth walk out into the courtyard, heard Hans's words, and quietly set his phone aside, turning to busy himself elsewhere.

With Hans accompanying her, Gwyneth had no trouble getting into the auction—noveldrama

she was even welcomed by staff and personally guided inside.

It was her first time attending an auction in person. She remembered how, back in the Turner family, whenever Victoria wanted

something, she'd just have hol net

assistant call the auction house, place a bid online, and the item would be delivered straight to their door. But here in Greenvale,

apparently, you had to show up

yourself?