The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 620

Gwyneth hurried out, practically darting from the room.

"Wait—Miss Langford!"

Hans called after her and followed in her wake.

It wasn’t until Gwyneth had completely disappeared from view that Hawthorne finally left the lounge himself.

Back at her desk, Gwyneth opened her computer and started waiting for her character models to render. She idly scrolled through her phone, noticing several messages from Hawthorne—reminders and advice that, while a bit overprotective, were clearly sent with care. She smiled and took them to heart.

Suddenly, another notification popped up—this time from a number she didn’t recognize. The sender introduced himself:

“This is Connor.”

“Hi. Did you take the car to the garage? How much is the estimate?”

After the brief greeting, Connor immediately started browsing her Instagram, curious to see what kind of person she was. But apart from a cartoon avatar and a photo of an old mountain landscape as her header, there wasn’t a single personal detail to be found.

He was honestly disappointed. For someone as stunning as Gwyneth, he’d expected at least a few selfies or some artsy snapshots of her daily life. Yet she was so low-key, she’d left absolutely nothing.

“What do you do for a living?”

Connor asked. Gwyneth replied without thinking, “I’m a concept artist.”

Normally, she wouldn’t have bothered chatting with a stranger, but considering she’d just wrecked a car worth several million, the least she could do was be polite. Incidents like this could go either way—if he decided to be difficult, he could easily take her to court.

“You like comics, right? Judging by the way you drove today, you seem pretty fearless. Want to come watch me race sometime?”

Gwyneth hesitated. Aside from watching her mother’s races as a kid and occasionally seeing her uncles compete, she’d never really been interested in racing. But this was different.

“When?”

His friends, however, didn’t buy that their notorious Mr. Kaufman was actually interested in chasing after a woman. He was famous for flashy gifts—jewelry, designer bags, cash—and for forgetting names the morning after.

“Mr. Kaufman, don’t tell me you’re actually falling for this one.”

Connor flicked a toothpick out of his mouth and handed over a photo he'd secretly snapped of Gwyneth—though it was only half of her face.

“Seriously? You can’t even see what she looks like. Is this some kind of secret crush?”

Connor snorted, snatching his phone back. “No games. I’m serious.”

A chorus of wolf whistles broke out. “Well, who knew? Looks like our Mr. Kaufman’s got a heart after all.”

Connor landed a playful kick on one friend’s backside, sending the group laughing and shoving their way toward the private bar.