The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Gwyneth sat on the edge of her bed, smoothing moisturizer into her arms while Leonie flitted around the room, holding up dress after dress in front of the mirror, indecisive as ever.

"A blind date?"

Gwyneth raised an eyebrow. She'd always imagined Leonie, with her big-hearted, impulsive ways, would fall in love freely-see someone who seemed decent, and off she'd go. Surely she'd end up choosing someone she actually liked.

"Yeah," Leonie replied, tossing a blue dress onto the growing pile on the bed. "My mom's convinced I've got terrible judgment—always getting tricked by people. She figures it's safer if the family vets the guy first, runs a background check or whatever. If he seems alright, then I get to meet him. If we hit it off, we'll see where it goes."

She slipped into a pale pink maxi dress, frowned at her own reflection, and quickly wriggled back out of it.

"To be honest, my mom's not wrong. Over the years, I've had friends come and go —at least a dozen. None of them ever stuck around for more than three months. Most just wanted to take advantage-eat my food, hang out at my place for free- and the second I stopped catering to them, they'd call me a spoiled princess and ditch me."

The memory clearly stung. Gwyneth, though, had never tried to take advantage of her-unlike Uncle Hawthorne, who always acted first and thought later, and who, in a strange twist of fate, was now Gwyneth's husband. Leonie let out a long, frustrated sigh, prompting Gwyneth to laugh softly.

"Your mom does have a point," Gwyneth teased.

Leonie's judgment really was a bit off-otherwise, Gwyneth wouldn't have needed to pull her out of trouble that last time.

If it weren't for her family's watchful eye and Hawthorne's constant worrying- Gwyneth suspected Leonie might have been conned and shipped off to God- knows-where by now.

"That's why I'm thinking maybe these family-arranged dates aren't so bad. At least they're with reputable people, not some random stranger who could trick me into anything."

Gwyneth nodded. In their world, knowing who you were dealing with was vital. She and Hawthorne had both met each other's families; everyone knew they came from respectable backgrounds. If she'd been anyone else, the Langfords would never have agreed to the match so quickly.

It was rare for a whirlwind marriage to happen this fast.

Gwyneth still felt dazed, barely able to believe she was a married woman now. "Auntie, quick-look! Uncle Hawthorne! It's Uncle Hawthorne!"

Leonie, finally dressed, grabbed her phone, started scrolling through the news, then suddenly rushed over, brandishing the screen in front of Gwyneth's face.

"Wishing the National Business Cooperation Summit a Successful Fifth Session."

The image showed a grand,

crescent-shaped conference table

covered in immaculate white linen a hundred men and women in sharp suits seated in neat rows. Behind them hung a bold red flag, the dignitaries beneath it solemn and composed. The camera zoomed in on the speaker, his words echoing through the hall. The sound of his voice made Gwyneth jolt and lean in unconsciously.

There was Hawthorne, seated with perfect posture beneath the flag. His features were striking-handsome and sharply defined, with an air of cold authority. The sleek, black microphone was poised before his lips as he delivered his speech, his voice clear and commanding, each word ringing with conviction. A gleaming silver nameplate shone in the chandelier light: "President, Echo City Chamber of Commerce." When he happened to glance up, his presence was so imposing, it was impossible not to hold your breath and stare.

Gwyneth drew in a sharp breath. Compared to his reserved demeanor at home, this was a whole different side of him-powerful and magnetic.

Leonie let out a low whistle. "Honestly, Uncle Hawthorne's pretty easy on the eyes. I've never met anyone like him back in Greenvale. If I had, I'd have married him myself."

Gwyneth chuckled. Leonie talked a big game, but whenever she actually saw Hawthorne, she was more like a mouse scurrying away from a cat All that bluster about marrying a manNike him? She'd probably run a mite if he ever showed real interest. Cóntent noveldrama

Gwyneth tried to refocus on the phone, but the camera had already moved on. Still, she couldn't help feeling her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

It was only a video, she told herself, but her cheeks were flushed and burning.

Hawthorne had said he'd be gone for about a week. And yet, just hearing his voice again made her insides tremble. If Leonie weren't here to distract her, Gwyneth had a feeling this week would stretch on forever, every day thick with longing.