The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 603

Her ideal target was someone like Hawthorne—or at the very least, someone in the league of Layne Everhart.

Both men came from old families, carrying an effortless sense of refinement that came from generations of privilege and legacy. That kind of innate nobility simply couldn’t be matched by the nouveau riche or the kids of families who’d only struck it rich a few generations back.

So after a round of polite conversation, Leonie’s impression of Ethan was lukewarm at best. There was nothing about him that stood out.

Gwyneth made casual small talk, but she couldn’t quite figure out what was on Leonie’s mind.

Leonie abruptly cut off Ethan’s easygoing chatter. “Cousin, can you come to the restroom with me?”

Gwyneth immediately got the hint. She stood up, offered Ethan a quick apology, and he caught on, giving them a gracious smile as they left.

Once they turned the corner, Leonie led Gwyneth straight to the restaurant’s entrance and shook her head.

“So, he’s not your type?”

That gesture said it all.

Leonie hummed her agreement. “Too fake. Not my thing.”

Gwyneth nodded. “Got it. I’ll go let him know.”

“Thanks.”

Leonie gave her a look, almost sheepish. “I’ll wait here for you, so we can leave together—less awkward that way.”

Gwyneth could only sigh. Apparently, sparing herself the awkwardness by making Gwyneth do the rejecting was perfectly fine in Leonie’s book.

She’d never done this sort of thing before. She didn’t have any special feelings for Ethan Sutherland, but having to turn someone down directly made her feel a twinge of guilt.

Leonie, honestly—if this ever came up again, Gwyneth swore she’d never play the bad guy for her cousin again.

Leonie, meanwhile, was content, silently counting down in her head. Once she got to a hundred, she’d go join Gwyneth.

Back at the table, Gwyneth offered Ethan an apologetic smile. “Mr. Sutherland, I’m afraid I have to run. Maybe we can catch up another time?”

She hoped that was gentle enough.

But Ethan, clearly interested, pressed on. “When would that be?”

Before Gwyneth could answer, the mascot burst in, grabbed her hand, and tugged her toward the exit.

“Hey—who are you?” Ethan protested.

From inside the costume, Leonie’s muffled voice whispered, “Auntie, Uncle Hawthorne is sitting right across from you.”

Across the room, Hawthorne was deep in conversation when the person he was speaking with suddenly stared past him, eyes wide with surprise.