The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Ailie marched straight from the press conference to Curtis's office, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. The determined set of her jaw made Curtis's handsome face darken with worry, but he forced a smile as she strode in.

"Ms. Ailie..."

"Mr. Garcia," she cut in, hands planted firmly on his desk, leaving him nowhere to run. "What's the story with that game developer? The software was clearly coded by Victoria and handed off to the tech team-so how did Violet's name end up on the project?"

Curtis swallowed, searching for an escape. "I'll explain everything to Victoria." "No, you'll explain it to me right now," Ailie insisted, her gaze unwavering.

**Silverstone Circuit, F1 Test Day**

Violet was suited up in a bright red racing suit, helmet tucked under her arm, as she prepared for the day's test laps. Next to her, Gwyneth's eyes sparkled in amazement-this was the first time she'd seen a real race car up close, and she could barely contain her excitement.

She peered up at Violet, her voice full of childlike wonder. "Ms. Marchand, can I ride with you while you drive?"

Violet laughed softly, ruffling Gwyneth's hair. "Not this time, sweetheart. But when you're older, I'll take you out for some laps—maybe you'll be a great driver yourself one day!"

Gwyneth's face lit up with dreams of checkered flags and roaring engines. McNeil, sitting beside her in the stands, scooped Gwyneth onto his lap. "Alright, let's not distract Violet. Sit tight and watch, okay?"

Down on the track, Violet's crew was giving the car a thorough once-over- checking the tires, brakes, and suspension. Once everything was ready, Violet slid behind the wheel. Before closing the door, she glanced up toward the stands and flashed a victory sign to Gwyneth and McNeil.

Gwyneth nearly leaped for joy, but McNeil gently held her in place. "Easy there. Stay seated."

With her helmet on and the team's signature red livery gleaming, Violet eased the car onto the track, first running a systems check with wet-weather tires. Then, alongside her teammates, she began the real testing-getting a feel for the Ferrari's handling, adjusting the seat, learning the steering, and testing the car's limits.

The stands weren't just filled with McNeil and Gwyneth; a crowd of Violet's fans had gathered, their cheers rising as her car thundered down the straightaway. When the test officially began, all eyes followed Violet's car as it tore around the circuit, the roar of the engine matched only by the applause echoing through the stands.

On the other side of the paddock, Osborn arrived with his own racing team. Lyndon and his crew were putting the finishing touches on his car's prep.

"I thought today was just for us," Osborn grumbled, irritation clear in his voice. "Why are there other teams here?"noveldrama

Normally, up to ten teams could run tests today, but Osborn's deep pockets had bought his team exclusive track time-no one else was supposed to be on the circuit until he was done. Yet, somehow, another team had made it onto the schedule.

Lyndon barely spared him a glance, too busy to entertain Osborn's complaints. As far as he was concerned, letting only two teams test was already more than generous.

He picked up his binoculars and scanned the far side of the track. By the time he found the other car, it had already completed two laps.

"Where's your boss, anyway?" Osborn asked, lowering his own binoculars.

Lyndon didn't bother answering, focusing on the car. A member of his crew spoke up instead. "Boss's daughter has a birthday today. He's busy at home."

"Tch..." Osborn scowled. A daughter's birthday was more important than him? With the kind of money their team commanded, he could change their fortunes with a word.

Still... he couldn't help but notice that Victoria never seemed strapped for cash. Was her useless husband actually giving her that kind of allowance?

"Alright, you're good to go," Lyndon said, giving Osborn the all-clear after a final check.

As Osborn climbed into the car, he paused, glancing at Lyndon. "One more thing. You can at least tell me your boss's husband's name, can't you?”

Lyndon shot him a look, then slammed the car door shut without a word.