The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 978

She could vaguely sense that Layne was starting to doubt her, and that Mrs. Shannon had been planted specifically to keep an eye on her.

"Mrs. Shannon is one of our most trusted housekeepers. She's been with the Everhart family for decades. If my parents hadn't passed away, she would have stayed at the main estate permanently. Honestly, making her look after me at the penthouse was beneath her. Thankfully, this little fire gave us the push we needed to move back home."

The color drained from Maeve's face, her expression twisting into something deeply unpleasant. Damn it. She had completely shot herself in the foot.

The car pulled through the grand iron gates of the estate. Maeve took in her surroundings. The sprawling lawns, meticulously pruned gardens, and elegant courtyards made it look like a tranquil retirement resort. Surrounded by lush, forested hills, the villa was a secluded paradise of fresh air.

In all honesty, Maeve loved the property itself. But it was a dreadful thirty-minute drive from the Sterling estate, and isolated entirely from the city center.

She was burning with anxiety. She desperately needed to uncover the truth about Quinton and Delilah.

If all her suffering and scheming ended with her losing Quinton, then what was the point of winning her freedom?

"Welcome home, Mr. Everhart. Welcome, Ms. Sterling."

Mrs. Shannon was already waiting at the grand entrance. Flanking the stone pathway were two neat rows of uniformed maids and staff. The moment Layne and Maeve stepped out of the car, they bowed in perfect unison, their voices echoing loudly across the courtyard.

Maeve flinched violently, practically burying her face into Layne's chest. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her.

"What's wrong?"

Maeve's face was deathly pale, her lips trembling uncontrollably.

"N-nothing. I think my blood sugar just dropped. I just need to lie down upstairs for a bit."

Layne remained utterly confused. He had never seen her have a reaction like this.

Maeve's hands shook so violently she couldn't hold the porcelain cup. Gently, Layne took it from her hands and tipped it to her lips himself.

"What exactly happened down there?"

He replayed the moment in his head. The panic attack hit the second the servants bowed to greet her.

Maeve stared blankly at him, her eyes completely devoid of their usual calculated warmth. This was no performance.