The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

She stood by the edge of the pond, scattering feed for the fish. Winter sunlight

warmed her shoulders, turning her dark hair into a waterfall of glimmering light.

Her long lashes fluttered gently with each breath and movement, and even in

profile, she was strikingly beautiful.

Around the garden, the housekeepers swept and tidied, but whenever the staff

caught sight of the new lady of the house, they couldn't help but marvel inwardly

-Mr. Hawthorne had truly married a beauty.

The butler, noticing how much she enjoyed herself, had refreshments sent out to

the garden. Most of the greenery in the Hawthorne estate had been chosen for

their evergreen resilience, so even in the dead of winter, the grounds felt vibrant

and alive.

After lingering for a while to enjoy the view, Gwyneth made her way to the study to

fetch her easel and paints-especially the precious ultramarine she'd had ground

from lapis lazuli, a gift from Hawthorne himself. He'd bought her all kinds of rare

pigments. At first, she'd hesitated to use them, thinking it a pity to waste such

treasures. Now, she realized it was even more wasteful to let them sit unused.

She set up her easel in the shade of a tree and began to sketch, translating the

garden's lively charm onto canvas.

The staff, never having seen anyone paint before, often found themselves

sneaking glances at her focused expression, then walking away whispering in

astonishment. To them, the new mistress wasn't just beautiful-she was talented

as well.

After two hours, most of the painting was done. Gwyneth felt a little lightheaded,

so she sipped some tea and picked out a few of her favorite pastries.

She'd noticed earlier that the butler had sent tea out for her. Even after all this

time, it was still piping hot, thanks to the clever black stone slab beneath the pot.

The stone kept anything placed on it warm, but never too hot-so her tea had

stayed at the perfect temperature, the flavor unchanged.

She'd seen plenty of clever things in her life, so this didn't surprise her.noveldrama

After stretching her legs by the pond and feeding the fish a little more, Gwyneth

returned to her seat and took out a block of red sealing wax, ready to carve a new

stamp.

When she'd come to Greenvale, she hadn't brought much with her. She'd only

thought of the city as a quiet place to rest and hadn't planned on staying long, so

she packed light.

Her first job here had been demanding, leaving her with little time to pick up her

art or enjoy a slower pace of life. She'd thrown herself into work, hoping the

busyness would numb the raw edges of old wounds she preferred not to touch.

Only when she was painting or carving-losing herself in the careful, steady work

-could she find peace.

Head bowed, her delicate neck seemed to glow in the winter sunlight. Wood and

stone took on new life in her hands, and after another ninety minutes, she'd

finished carving the stamp just as she'd pictured it.

She remembered, as a child, visiting

her great-grandfather's house and

marveling at his collection of

old-fashioned stamps and seals.

He'd let her play with them, and

eventually she'd learned to carve her

own. The more she practiced, the

more fascinated she became with

traditional designs.

Whenever she visited and asked for

more, her great-grandfather would

feign forgetfulness, muttering about

his poor memory and pretending he

didn't know where he'd put them.

She suspected he was just hiding

them so she wouldn't make off with

too many.

Still, her memory served her well-she could recreate the intricate patterns from

childhood recollection. By the time she finished carving, it was well past

lunchtime. The butler, knowing she'd had a late breakfast, hadn't come to fetch

her.

It wasn't until Hawthorne returned and found her absent from the house that he

discovered she'd spent the better part of the morning and afternoon out in the

garden.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asked, appearing with a brown paper bag.

He handed her the savory pastries and a steaming cup of rich stew he'd picked

up on his way home. The delicious aroma made Gwyneth's stomach rumble in

anticipation.

She devoured three pastries before

realizing just how hungry she was.

She'd completely skipped lunch, and

it had been nearly five hours since

breakfast-a stretch made even

longer by her intense concentration

and energy spent throughout the

day.