The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 679

Gwyneth softened her voice. “It’s fine. It’s not like I’m paying for this—this is all going on Mr. Everhart’s card. So tonight, let’s just say dinner’s on me, courtesy of him.”

Her words landed, and everyone exchanged looks around the table.

They understood now: Mr. Everhart must have upset his wife earlier, and now Mrs. Everhart was getting her revenge by running up his card. In wealthy circles, this sort of thing happened all the time. The wives knew their husbands fooled around; they were savvy enough not to cause a scene.

Unlike ordinary women, they didn’t throw tantrums, threaten to leave, or chase after their husbands in hysterics. They definitely didn’t go after the other woman. No, they had their own ways of coping—like spending their husbands’ money with abandon.

Everyone got the message. The air relaxed. Mrs. Everhart certainly carried herself with the poise of someone accustomed to privilege.

If it had been any of them, and they’d discovered their fiancé had a mistress before the wedding, there would’ve been fireworks.

Tonight, Gwyneth did something out of character: she poured herself a generous glass of wine. The only way she could let loose was to drink, and tonight, she was determined to do just that.

Her glass seemed to refill itself endlessly—one moment empty, the next brimming full again. When her coworkers urged her to slow down, she just smiled and insisted her tolerance was unbeatable.

They watched, dumbfounded, as she polished off an entire bottle of red wine and still spoke as clearly as ever. When she started on the next bottle, no one tried to stop her.

But more than four hours had passed, and not a single call from him. Not even a text to explain what had happened.

Years ago, Violet had snatched Gwyneth and her father away from Victoria right in front of her. Victoria had endured, never once filing for divorce. She must have loved her father desperately.

Still smiling, Gwyneth kept drinking, her mind a tangled mess. Faces blurred in front of her. She murmured, her voice barely audible, “Hawthorne, don’t you even want to give me an explanation?”