The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Gwyneth wandered through the house, her eyes darting from room to room, still searching for anything that might have once belonged to her grandmother. Maybe there was something left, something she could claim as a memento. If she couldn't steal it this time, perhaps she'd try buying it or maybe she'd just try reasoning with Hawthorne next time.

Lost in her own thoughts, she barely noticed when Hawthorne answered his phone.

Instead of heading straight to the guest room he'd prepared for her, Gwyneth continued exploring, curiosity guiding her steps.

"Hawthorne, you're not coming into the office today?" Yvette's voice came through his phone, bright but edged with suspicion.

"Something came up," he replied, keeping his tone cool and distant.

Yvette hadn't really expected much of an answer; she'd only called out of habit. The new girl at the company was all anyone could talk about, and since Hans had brought her in, Yvette's instincts were on high alert. Hawthorne never allowed family connections at the office-this was the first time he'd bent his own rules. And the girl, Miss Langford, was strikingly beautiful. She'd barely been at work a few hours and already the rumor mill was spinning wild tales, some even whispering that she was Hawthorne's fiancée.

Yvette had been with The Everhart Group for five years. With her father's friendship with the Everhart family, it was only natural for everyone to assume she'd eventually become Mrs. Everhart. Now, with this newcomer on the scene, her sense of unease was impossible to ignore.

"It's nothing," Yvette pressed on, voice casual but eyes narrowed. "Just thought I'd let you know-your niece's friend didn't show up this afternoon either."

She'd spent half the day watching Gwyneth, too distracted to focus on work, even skipping her afternoon appointments. When she'd returned to the office, she'd found Gwyneth's desk empty.

"I know," Hawthorne answered absentmindedly, his gaze never leaving Gwyneth as she explored the house.

He was showing her around, but for some reason, her every move seemed suspicious. At work, she'd been so well-behaved, quietly focused on her tasks.

"Your room's this way," he finally called out, seeing Gwyneth about to disappear down another hallway.

Yvette, still on the line, paused in confusion. "Who are you talking to?"

"Oh, alright, Mr. Everhart." Gwyneth's voice floated back.

Yvette froze. That voice sounded awfully familiar-Mr. Everhart? A room?

She nearly dropped her phone, stunned into silence.

Hawthorne ended the call without another word, clearly in no mood to explain.

tea

It took Yvette a moment to collect

ve

herself. She resisted the urge to call him back after all, their relationship wasn't public. She knew trying to act cute coy wouldn't work on someone as emotionally stoic as Hawthorne—he respected strong, decisive women.

For years, Yvette had carefully crafted this image, letting everyone believe she and Hawthorne were destined to be together, the future Mrs. Everhart of The Everhart Group. She could almost see it now until today.

"Hans, where did Mr. Everhart go?" Yvette finally snapped after ten minutes of stewing at her desk, calling Hans in and barely keeping her frustration in check. "Mr. Everhart took Miss Langford to the hotel," Hans replied, matter-of-fact.

Yvette stared at him, her expression drained of all hope. Finally, she burst out, "Impossible! She must have seduced him!"noveldrama

She grabbed her purse and stormed out, leaving Hans standing there, thoroughly bewildered.

Seduced him? Miss Langford? Hans couldn't help but think Yvette had it all wrong. To him, it looked more like Mr. Everhart-usually so

l.ne

reserved-was the one making all the moves, even carrying Miss Langford's suitcase up to the hotel. Hans had trailed behind, too

embarrassed to watch the rest.

Meanwhile, Hawthorne led Gwyneth into a bedroom filled with warm light, its windows overlooking the garden. The room had an old-world charm, and Gwyneth couldn't help but stare, entranced.

"What do you think?" Hawthorne asked.

She couldn't hide her delight. "It's lovely."

She pushed open the window. Early spring air drifted in, carrying the sweet scent of budding leaves. For a moment, she lost herself in the simple beauty of it.

Then embarrassment crept in. She'd fought so hard to keep her distance, yet here she was, completely won over by a single room. How cheap, she thought to herself.

Trying to mask her awkwardness, she blurted out, "So, if I'm staying here, where are you sleeping?"

"I'm just next door. My room's right beside yours."