The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

"Yeah."noveldrama

Gwyneth answered softly, then suddenly sneezed. Hawthorne noticed the window was open nearly all the way-a habit of the housekeeper, who liked to air out the rooms when no one was home. But at night, with the spring chill still lingering, the cold draft could make anyone miserable.

Spring hadn't quite given way to warmth yet; the air was damp and raw, a late cold snap settling in. Hawthorne frowned, realizing the room was colder than it should be.

He scooped Gwyneth into his arms and carried her to the bathroom. The tub was already full-he'd meant for them to take a bath together, but that plan was out the window now. Tonight, she'd have the bath to herself.

He gave her some warm tea to drink before bringing her in. Gwyneth clutched her stomach, pain coming in waves, each stronger than the last.

"Drink a little more," he urged gently. "Cramps can be rough. At least the heat will help."

Her face flushed bright red, embarrassment burning in her cheeks. She couldn't help but think she must be a disappointment right now. Things between them were finally starting to heat up, but her period had to come at the worst possible moment.

She took the cup from him, sipping slowly as he watched over her, then slipped into the bath. Hawthorne lingered nearby, ready to help. Gwyneth, mortified at the idea of undressing in front of him, tried to rush him out.

"We're married," he reminded her, a teasing smile softening his features. "What are you so shy about?"

He had more self-control than she gave him credit for especially right now, when she was clearly in pain.

After she took some painkillers and soaked in the warm bath, Gwyneth finally started to feel human again. The heat eased the pain, and she could almost relax.

Once she finished, Hawthorne handed her a set of pajamas and waited while she changed. When she curled up in bed, she found something warm tucked beneath the covers—a heating pad resting against her stomach. The gentle warmth spread through her, and the tension in her face slowly melted away. Her cheeks, which had been pale before, regained some color. Hawthorne watched her, his gaze full of quiet affection.

"If I'd known your period was coming, I never would have pushed you like that earlier."

"I didn't expect it either," Gwyneth mumbled. Maybe the stress had thrown off her cycle.

Hawthorne brushed her forehead, his handsome brows drawn together in concern, though his expression stayed gentle.

"All right," he said, standing up. "Just rest for the next few days."

As he turned to leave, Gwyneth's hand shot out to grab his arm. "You're still going to Echo City?"

Everyone gets a little clingy when they're not feeling well, and Gwyneth was no exception. Without meaning to, she found herself acting spoiled.

"Yeah. The meeting ran late last night, and I figured you'd be asleep, so I didn't call. There's another one tonight, but I came home during the day just to check on you."

He didn't dare admit how much he missed her, or how uneasy he felt whenever she spent time with Leonie. Who knew what kind of trouble Leonie might dream

up?

He'd flown his private jet back to Greenvale that morning, only to run into the project manager from last week's negotiations. One thing led to another, and he ended up having lunch to discuss business-planning to head home to Gwyneth afterward. In the end, he'd narrowly avoided losing his wife right under his nose.

"Oh."

Gwyneth's disappointment was obvious. So he was leaving again.

"Don't worry," Hawthorne promised, squeezing her hand. "I'll be back in three days, tops. I've cut the trip So I can spend more time with

you when I get back."