The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 518

Mr. Everhart relinquished his seat at the head of the table to Hawthorne, who took it without the slightest fuss, as if this was how things had always been.

Gwyneth couldn't help but whisper to Leonie, “Did your uncle save your entire family’s life or something?”

By age and seniority, Hawthorne should never outrank Mr. Everhart, yet the Everharts treated him with an almost reverential respect. It was baffling.

Leonie’s face fell, her expression bleak.

“Pretty much. I told you before—the only reason the Everhart family business has survived this long is because of my uncle. My dad hates business; he’s content to live off the house our grandfather left and his shares in the company. The family firm is all on my uncle’s shoulders.”

Gwyneth fell silent. No wonder this man commanded so much authority.

Layne, who’d been holding court just moments ago, suddenly went quiet and stared down at his plate, eating in silence.

The housekeeper brought out a place setting for Hawthorne. Gwyneth found her gaze drifting to his hands—elegant, cool, and almost translucent in the dining room light—then followed the line of his wrist up to his sharply defined Adam’s apple.

Almost as if on cue, Hawthorne’s throat bobbed with a swallow. His eyes met Gwyneth’s across the table, sharp and unexpectedly direct.

Gwyneth quickly looked away, ducking her head and shoveling a mouthful of food as if she could hide behind it. Her ears flushed pink, and her heart was racing.

“So, what were you all talking about? Sounded lively.”

Hawthorne’s voice cut through the silence, an unusual move for someone so reserved.

Mr. and Mrs. Everhart exchanged a quick glance before fixing their attention on their son. Mrs. Everhart gave Layne a subtle nudge, urging him to answer his uncle’s question.

“We were talking about Leonie’s friend,” Layne said, not daring to fudge the truth. “Her boyfriend’s made it impossible for her to find a job in Greenvale, so Leonie was asking if I could help out.”

Leonie shot Layne a frantic look, silently pleading with him not to mention it, but the pressure from Hawthorne was too much for Layne to resist.

Hawthorne gave a noncommittal, “Oh,” and idly picked up a piece of braised pork with his fork, though he didn’t eat it.