The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 21
It was the first time Madonna had ever heard Victoria speak to her in that tone. Usually, in front of the Langfords, Victoria barely
dared to breathe, let alone raise her voice. Now, Madonna was so furious she could hardly keep her hands steady. To make
matters worse, a cacophony of noise erupted in her ear-she could barely make out Victoria's words over the din.
"What is that racket? I'm talking to you-where are you, at a construction site or something?"
It sounded like she was standing on the edge of a busy city intersection, engines roaring and horns blaring on all sides.
But Victoria didn't answer. She simply hung up.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and turned to face Osborn Clark, whose excitement was practically vibrating off him.
"Is it fixed?" he blurted out, unable to contain himself.
Victoria stood tall in front of him, a glint of pride in her eyes. "See for yourself."
Osborn barely glanced at the car. "No need. How much do I owe you? I'll write a check right now."
Victoria just smiled, cool and collected. "It's on the house."
He shook his head. "Half a million. Does that cover it?"
When this car had first been towed to Victoria's shop, it was little more than a battered frame—his first F1 championship car, the
one that had won him his initial trophy. Even after it had been wrecked, scorched, and nearly drowned, Osborn couldn't bring
himself to scrap it. He'd knelt beside it for hours, weeping openly, unable to let go.
He'd only discovered Victoria was in Echo City because of a post she'd made to her friends online. The moment he saw it, he'd
rushed over, barely stopping to catch his breath.
Victoria had been stunned the moment she saw the car. But after just three seconds, she'd rattled off the Ferrari's model number
and promised to have it fully restored within a day.
Osborn thought he must have misheard. But then she called in her old Echo City pit crew, and when he'd come by to check on
their progress, there it was-a gleaming, reborn SF1000, looking as if it had rolled straight off the showroom floor.

"Give the money to them," Victoria said, nodding at the two rows of engineers assembled behind her. They stood shoulder to
shoulder, faces shining with the thrill of a job well done.
Victoria pulled off her baseball cap, letting her long dark hair tumble down like a waterfall. Clad in her slate-grey coveralls, she
looked every bit the same force of nature who used to lead crisis repairs on the racetrack years ago.
Osborn watched her, knowing full well she was married now, yet unable to stop himself from asking the one question he was
certain she'd turn down.
"Have you ever thought about coming back to racing?"
Evermore City
Starry Nights Restaurant
Victoria had refused Osborn's offer of payment but eventually gave in and let him buy her dinner.
Through the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows, their silhouettes were clearly visible, sitting across from each other in the soft
glow.
A black Maybach was parked discreetly in the corner of the lot. Inside, McNeil sat in silence, his expression unreadable as he
watched Victoria. It had only been two weeks since he'd last seen her, and already there was another man by her side.
McNeil watched as his wife chatted and laughed with Osborn. That easy, relaxed smile on her face-he realized he'd never seen
her look quite like that in all their six years of marriage.
He let out a bitter laugh under his breath.
When he thought she'd died, he'd torn the city apart-he'd been ready to turn Starfall City upside down to find her. In the end, it
was the airline records that led him to Evermore City.
No wonder she'd been so determined about the divorce. Clearly, she'd found someone else.
McNeil flicked his cigarette out the window, got out of the car, and straightened his jacket. As he walked toward Starry Nights, the
hostess at the door glanced up in surprise—he cut a striking figure, every inch the gentleman.

Inside, Victoria and Osborn sat across from each other-he in his racing suit, she perfectly made up, her eyes bright. Every now
and then they'd lock eyes, and Victoria would flash him a soft, genuine smile.
McNeil could swear he saw a spark in her eyes, a light he'd never witnessed before. His wife-smiling at another man.
He didn't even know who this guy was.
He picked up his phone, dialing as he strode across the polished floor. At that moment, Victoria glanced up, spotted him, and the
smile instantly vanished from her face.
McNeil slid smoothly into the seat beside her, his voice low and gentle, his manners impeccable.
Years of privilege and breeding were on full display as he greeted them, the perfect picture of poise and composure.