The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 320

Ever since that night he stormed out and slammed the door, he hadn’t set foot in the master bedroom again.

At first, Victoria was on edge, every night half expecting him to return, but over time she grew used to it—and even started sleeping better for it. Honestly, she hoped he’d never come back. She’d had enough of his unpredictable moods and endless drama.

He could pull several all-nighters in a row and still show up to work fresh as ever the next morning. Victoria wasn’t so lucky. She didn’t have his relentless energy.

A single sleepless night left her fighting back yawns the whole next day, knowing one mistake in her code could snowball into disaster.

For a whole week, Victoria juggled work and child care. Thank God her stamina was above average; anyone else would’ve collapsed long ago.

When the weekend finally rolled around, Victoria ignored McNeil’s unreasonable demands. She was sure he wouldn’t come home to the villa anyway, so she took Gwyneth straight to her grandfather’s place.

Gwyneth couldn’t wait to spend the day at the old family estate. Victoria didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone; she just hopped in her newly tuned Ferrari and sped off.

Paul was already waiting for her on an empty country road, surrounded by a gang of his fellow racers.

Victoria’s car appeared on the horizon, slowly rolling into view.

She stepped out, dressed head-to-toe in crisp white activewear, a sun visor perched on her head. The moment she emerged, her athletic figure caught every eye.

“Paul, you have excellent taste,” one of the guys whistled. “Where do you even find women like that? Set us up, will you?”

The whole crew stared, openly gawking.

Victoria strode over to Paul. Even in flat sneakers, her nearly five-foot-seven frame almost matched his six feet.

Together, they looked like the perfect power couple—handsome and striking, they drew every eye.

Paul hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she arrived.

“Ready to start?” she asked, glancing at his car—a Lamborghini.

“You’ll be at a disadvantage in different models. Want to switch?” she offered, genuinely trying to help.

Paul just grinned. “I’ll give you a thirty-second head start.”

Victoria smirked. “Alright. Your call.”

The group crowded around as Victoria climbed into her souped-up Ferrari. Paul was so cocky—he was in for a shock.

Every car Victoria drove was customized; whenever the urge to show off struck, she was always ready.

At the starting line, everyone watched eagerly. Paul sauntered up to her window, and Victoria rolled it down.

He leaned in, flashing a teasing grin. “Last chance to quit. Be my girlfriend, and I’ll teach you everything I know.”

Victoria slipped on her sunglasses—a picture of cool confidence, a far cry from the gentle housekeeper she’d been at his place.

Paul’s heart thudded against his ribs.

“You said you’d give me thirty seconds—” Victoria reminded him.