The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 979

Layne's dark eyes widened slightly. Maeve's face was unsettlingly calm as she spoke, yet her entire body was visibly trembling. The sheer terror radiating from her was unmistakable.

Now Layne understood exactly what she was afraid of. She had just laid it completely bare—the staff's subservient greeting had triggered severe psychological trauma. She despised them because she had spent her childhood being ruthlessly framed and punished by people just like them.

No wonder.

Layne had assumed her secretive behavior meant she was hiding some sinister plot. He never imagined she was a victim of severe abuse.

An indescribable wave of fury flared in his chest.

"Didn't your mother do anything to stop him?"

He was appalled by the nightmare of her childhood.

"My mother?"

Maeve thought of the weak, broken woman whose entire inheritance had been stolen by her own husband. Her mother was merely clinging to survival under Alastair's iron fist. Even if Alastair blatantly brought his mistresses home to their marital bed, she wouldn't dare utter a single word of protest.

Everything the Lyndon family had built now belonged to the ruthless son-in-law. Her mother believed she was lucky just to be kept alive.

Seeing the deadened look in her eyes, Layne immediately dropped the subject, unwilling to force her to relive it.

"If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. It's okay. This is your home now. The staff here won't spy on you. And absolutely no one is going to report you to anyone or raise a hand against you."

Maeve forced a hollow smile. She didn't dare hope for a bright future anymore. She had bet all her hopes on Quinton, believing he would be her knight in shining armor to rescue her from that hellhole. Yet, in the end, Alastair still held her by the throat. He had given her three years, promising that if she completed his mission, she would earn her permanent freedom.

A heavy silence descended over the room. Maeve knew the answer was no.

"It's fine. Don't look so tense. I was just joking."

Maeve's signature gentle smile returned to her lips, but to Layne, she suddenly felt like a complete stranger.

Her softness felt terrifyingly manufactured, like a flawless, mass-produced porcelain doll straight off an assembly line. It lacked an ounce of genuine warmth or humanity.

"Maeve, unless you do something completely unforgivable, Mrs. Shannon would never speak ill of you to anyone. And she certainly wouldn't frame you.

I'm deeply sorry you were triggered today, but please don't joke about firing her. To me, she's family. She's practically a second mother to me."