The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 916

Sully had beaten him half to death purely to avenge Felicia's bruised ego. Felicia knew that perfectly well. If Sully had ground his bones to dust, she would have simply watched from the sidelines.

She was only here to test his loyalty, and Dorian knew it. He strictly avoided showing any resentment toward Sully; one misstep, and the news would reach Sully immediately.

His dynamic with Felicia was long gone. The days of confiding in her, knowing she would instantly solve his problems with a snap of her fingers, were dead and buried.

Felicia picked up on his careful evasion, her expression darkening with displeasure.

"Even now, you're still trying to cover for Sully. He beat you to a pulp, and you didn't even tell me?

"Dorian, you need to trust me. We might have broken up, but I'm not some vindictive monster. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have had my own people do it. I wouldn't need to borrow Sully's hands."

Seeing her former boy toy bruised and entirely immobilized from the neck down filled her with a twisted sense of regret. Her honeyed words were just a tactic to soften him up.

Thankfully, Sully had spared Dorian's face. Scanning him over, she noted that aside from some minor swelling and redness, his features remained intact. He was still the devastatingly handsome young man capable of driving women wild.

Felicia couldn't tear her eyes away from his face. Dorian knew exactly what she valued most about him.

She was obsessed with his looks and his stamina in bed. As a well-maintained woman in her fifties, she still had a voracious appetite.

Felicia never saw herself as an older woman. Ever since she took Dorian in, she had started dressing younger, spending hours posing in front of mirrors in outfits she used to avoid.

In her twisted mind, she genuinely believed they were in a serious, committed romance. Dorian had always seen through the delusion. He knew exactly what his future looked like if he stayed.

He couldn't bet his entire life on Felicia. She was rich and energetic now, but if she lived to eighty, he'd be stuck playing the devoted companion until he was fifty.

Sacrificing his youth to be an older woman's plaything was a bitter pill to swallow. All the money in the world couldn't buy back time.

Of course, he didn't dare breathe a word of this. If she realized he was permanently done with her, he might not live to see tomorrow.

Knowing she was feeding him lies, Dorian played along flawlessly.

"Felicia, I've thought it over, and I—"

Her given name was Lana Vane, but out of fear and respect, the underworld had crowned her Felicia.

Leonie glanced at her outstretched hand and completely ignored it.

The Everharts were royalty in Greenvale. Leonie had never even heard of Felicia, instantly categorizing her as low-class trash. The Everhart family didn't associate with thugs.

A seasoned veteran of the criminal underworld, Felicia kept her smile fixed, but internally, she was seething.

She despised arrogant brats like this—trust-fund babies who coasted through life entirely on their family's wealth. Felicia's husband had money, sure, but she had built her own empire. By the time she was in her thirties, she was swimming in cash, never needing to rely on a man again.

Yet, because she had two sons with her husband, divorce was off the table.

He lived abroad permanently now, managing his own operations. Felicia was well aware he had started a second family over there. She found their hollow marriage pathetic, but she maintained it purely for strategy.

At the very least, his domestic empire belonged entirely to her children. Whatever scraps he had stashed abroad, his new family could keep.