The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Connor was the one who spoke.

He didn't recognize Gwyneth, but just now, the way she greeted him—so warm, so delighted, so familiar-sent an unexpected wave of comfort through him.

Marcus treated him well, of course, but no matter how much affection there was between men, it always seemed to be separated by an invisible door you could never quite open. It never reached that cold, dark corner deep inside him.

"I don't remember you," Connor admitted, "but Uncle calls you my sister, so that makes you my sister."

He pulled a pale green pendant from around his neck and, a bit awkwardly, pressed it into Gwyneth's hand.

"A little gift for meeting you. Don't turn your nose up at it."

Gwyneth startled, refusing to take it. "Max, your parents left this for you. You've always worn it. I can't accept it."

Connor frowned, glancing at Marcus when he heard her words. Marcus's gaze was unreadable, and only then did Gwyneth realize she might have said the wrong thing.

"Gwyn's right. Your parents left this for you. I should have told you that's on me,” Marcus said quietly.

Connor snatched the pendant back from Gwyneth and made to toss it out the window. Quick as lightning, she caught his hand. "Max-!"

"You're right. You can't take it. But the thing is, I don't want it either."

A pang of sadness struck Gwyneth. Mr. Green just wanted Max not to grieve his parents' deaths, but wasn't it even crueler to let him think they'd abandoned him?

Marcus shot Connor a cold look. "You haven't changed a bit after all these years. Don't think Gwyn won't laugh at you."

"Max-" Gwyneth tried again, but Connor cut her off.

"Alright, we've met. You guys catch up. I'm leaving."

From that moment, Connor abandoned the necklace and never wore it again.

Gwyneth handed the pendant back to Marcus. "Mr. Green."

Marcus tucked the chain away. "I know what you want to say, but it's too late for explanations. There's no point trying to dredge up memories he's lost."

Maybe, Marcus thought, it was for the best if Connor never remembered his past. After leaving the café, Connor headed straight for a bar.

The bar manager recognized him and hurried over. "Mr. Kaufman, the usual?"

Connor's tone was cool. "No private room. I'll drink at the bar."

ет

He needed a drink-desperately. It wasn't just Gwyneth suddenly becoming his sister, or Marcus mentioning things about his parents. He couldn't remember any of it. All he knew was that they hadn't wanted him. As for anything else, his memories were a blur.

Alcohol was the only thing that made it easier to forget.

"Line up a row of Jägerbombs," he said.

For once, his usually roguish expression was replaced with something weary and

fed up. The bartender gave him a look but poured a drink and slid it over.

"I said a row," Connor insisted.

He downed it in one gulp. The manager hurried over to intervene.

"Do as Mr. Kaufman says," he instructed.

Connor wasn't someone you wanted to cross. The manager didn't know who had upset him tonight, but he wasn't about to let the bartender mishandle it, so he took charge himself.

Connor drank one after another. The manager didn't ask questions, just kept pouring, and Connor kept drinking.

His tolerance was staggering. Most people would have been flat on the floor bynoveldrama

now, but for him, it was just a pleasant buzz.

On stage, the singer stood bathed in

the warm orange glow of sunset lights, her voice low and haunting as she strummed a gentle tune on her guitar. The music was soft, soothing, almost hypnotic

Suddenly, a commotion broke out in a booth in the corner. A man with a cigarette clenched between his teeth was arguing with a woman in a tight-fitting dress.

"Let go of me! We broke up already-stop following me around!" she snapped.

"You spent plenty of my money," the man sneered. "You think you canz just dump me and walk away? Not so easy. Either you pay back every cent spent on you, or you stick around until I'm done with you."