The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 691

She spoke up suddenly, and Connor could hardly hide his eagerness for a moment alone with her.

“Sure, you pick the time—I’ll come get you.”

Connor took Gwyneth’s request as a date, secretly thrilled by the prospect.

But all Gwyneth wanted was to blow off some steam by racing—nothing more.

By the time Leonie returned, Connor was already gone.

She spotted two teacups sitting on the table and, without hesitation, picked up the one Connor had used, draining the rest of his tea in a single gulp.

Gwyneth considered saying something, but decided against it. No need to complicate things.

Meanwhile, Hawthorne sat on his living room couch, watching a video Leonie had secretly sent over.

He could see she’d lost a significant amount of weight—her collarbones, visible as she ate, looked almost sharp enough to pierce her skin.

Watching made his chest tighten with worry.

A message popped up at the top of his phone screen.

“Hawthorne, I’m feeling a little dizzy. Can you come check on me?”

It was from Patti Yale. Hawthorne replied instantly: “On my way.”

Today, at last, everything should come to an end.

He got in the car and started toward Patti’s place, listening on the drive to a voice memo Hans had sent him.

“You need to find a way to get him drunk. After all this time, you still haven’t slept with him—and you say he likes you? Don’t you want to become Mrs. Everhart? Once you’ve slept with him and end up pregnant, I’ll wire two hundred million straight into your account. Get Hawthorne to put all his assets in your kid’s name. Then you’ll really win at life. Greenvale will be mine, and the Everhart fortune will be yours…”

“There’s a spider—”

After drinking, she’d taken a long bath, scrubbing herself until her skin was soft and fragrant, though the heavy scent of wine still clung stubbornly to her.

When Hawthorne caught a whiff of wine on Gwyneth, it always seemed rich and intoxicating. But Patti’s breath was so saturated with alcohol, he felt dizzy just standing near her.

Still, she insisted on pressing herself against him.

Hawthorne kept his hands strictly to himself, making no move to hold her.

Patti’s nightgown left little to the imagination, and she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

She melted against him, her body soft and pliant. Any man with less self-control would have given in already and carried her straight to bed.

“This house has regular pest control. There aren’t any spiders. Now, let go…”