The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Even Celia, who'd been unimpressed at first, couldn't help but widen her eyes- the fabrics and dresses were just too exquisite. She found herself unable to look away.

"So shallow," she muttered under her breath. "A few nice things, and everyone's completely won over."

Hawthorne gave a nod for the staff to open the remaining boxes, but Chris had already lost interest. He was worried that Hawthorne would pull out something even more dazzling to make the women—and his great-grandfather-lose their heads and start siding with him.

"These are my personal treasures, along with silks from the south-each with a heritage stretching back centuries," Hawthorne explained. “I doubt anything less would pass muster with you, Mrs. Langford, or with you, Grandfather. Do these meet your standards?"

He knew that if he wanted to impress Victoria and Thorpe, he'd have to put in real effort. He was confident these gifts would do the trick.

"Oh, yes of course they do!" Thorpe grinned so widely that the wrinkles on his face had all but disappeared; a fly could've gotten stuck between the folds.

Victoria cleared her throat, still a bit stunned by the tailored gowns. She'd never actually worn anything like that in her life. When her figure had been at its best, she'd spent most days at home; for formal occasions, she wore evening dresses, and during her one year of work, it was all business attire. Then she'd gotten pregnant, which meant maternity clothes, and after becoming a mother, it was always practical and proper-suits or casual wear. Skirts were rare; heels, even rarer. And now, these elegant, form-fitting gowns? Unthinkable.

Of the boxes of fitted dresses sent for Gwyneth, one was clearly full of more mature styles in darker colors-meant for someone Victoria's age. Hawthorne had obviously picked out a whole box just to please her.

Celia rolled her eyes. Of course he'd know how to win over Mom and Great- Grandpa. That's probably how he tricked their eldest sister into leaving too. Not that any of this impressed her—at least, that's what she told herself. But her gaze kept drifting back to those dresses. God, they were stunning. Starfall City had boutiques too, but they couldn't hold a candle to these.

The old man pulled out a set of keys and handed them to Hawthorne. "I've kept this house ready for Gwyn all these years, just waiting for the right person. It's yours now-a wedding gift from me."

Gwyneth's eyes filled with tears as she looked at her great-grandfather. Hawthorne accepted without hesitation. He'd actually planned to take Gwyneth house-hunting today, let her pick out a place she liked. But for the Langfords, finding a house was never a problem, and there was no rush. Besides, it would be nice if Gwyneth could spend a little more time with her family before he whisked her away again.

Seeing that the old man had given them a house, Victoria quietly slipped her own

set of keys back into her purse, then presented Hawthorne with an entire box of keys.

"Gwyn loves cars-especially riding

shotgun with the windows down, feeling the sea breeze," she said. "Here are the keys to ten of the. world's top supercars. If you're not used to driving at that level, you

might want to start practicing."

Hawthorne, with his refined manners and southern upbringing, didn't seem the type to go joyriding or race cars, and Victoria was a little concerned. Gwyneth, on

the other hand, took the keys without a second thought.

"No worries. I can drive. You can ride shotgun, 'Uncle.""

Just earlier at lunch, they'd joked about her taking him on a tour of Starfall City.

Hawthorne frowned at the nickname. Who was she calling "Uncle"? Didn't she know they were married now?noveldrama

He didn't say anything, but instead pulled her close, possessively wrapping his arm around her slender waist. "Now that business is settled,

we'll get out of your way. How about we go see the house Grandfather gave us?"

Everyone could tell the newlyweds wanted some time alone. Victoria and Thorpe looked more than happy to oblige-if things went well, maybe by this time next year, they'd be holding a great-great-grandchild.