The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

"That won't happen, Grandpa. You'll live a long, healthy life."

Gwyneth's heart ached as Thorpe squeezed her hand. "I know how much time I've got left, sweetheart," he said gently. "Don't go talking about living forever. I've set aside some money for you, for Celia, and for Chris. Some of it's with your mother, and the rest, I'll have the lawyers take care of. You're all my

grandchildren, and I've never played favorites."

Tears streamed down Gwyneth's cheeks. Thorpe took a shaky breath and continued, “I didn't leave a single penny for your father. If he ever wakes up, he'll have to beg on the street. And you're not to pity him, you hear?”

As he spoke, Thorpe's own eyes grew wet. For the first time, Gwyneth realized just how old her great-grandfather had become. He was no longer the fierce, booming presence she'd grown up with. Oddly, she missed the days when he'd scold everyone at the top of his lungs.

"Grandpa, about Dad-" Gwyneth started, but he cut her off at once.

"Don't mention him. That fool never took responsibility for anything. All he does is sleep, and he won't even wake up now. He can't be bothered to open his eyes and see that I might not have much time left."

He let out a heavy sigh, and for a moment, tears slipped from the corners of his half-closed eyes.

"Forget it, forget it," he muttered, waving a hand. "I'll probably go to my grave without ever getting to yell at him again. If any of you do get the chance to see your father, you better give him a good talking-to for me—"

Thorpe's voice broke, and suddenly, he was sobbing like a child.

Gwyneth's eyes stung with tears. Her heart was breaking, but she had no idea how to comfort him. She couldn't let herself cry with him—not in front of her great- grandfather. That would only make things worse.

"Grandpa-" she tried again.

He waved her off. "No more of that. Let's talk about the inheritance."

The sudden change of topic left Gwyneth struggling to catch up.

"Grandpa, you don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself. If Chris and Celia need it, give it all to them. I don't want anything, really."

All she'd ever wanted was to live as an ordinary person. She never cared about being the Langford family's heiress, or inheriting anything at all.

Thorpe scowled. "Absolutely not. Are you saying you don't want anything from me?"

"...." Gwyneth was speechless. How had the conversation gone this way?

He was sulking now, like a child, and she wasn't sure how to handle it.

"Gwyn, I know the doctors can't do much for me now. And you're not a little girl anymore. Is there someone you like? Any young man who's caught your eye?"

Gwyneth couldn't tell whether to laugh or cry at the sudden shift.

"Grandpa, don't tease me. There isn't anyone I like, and no one likes me either."

Wasn't he supposed to be sick? How had her rushed trip home turned into an impromptu marriage interview?

Thorpe's voice boomed across the room.

"Impossible! You're smart, beautiful, and from a good family. You went to

Greenvale, didn't you? What, arenoveldrama

all

the boys there blind? Not a single one's taken a liking to you?"

Gwyneth's thoughts immediately went to Bill Crawford. At least he wasn't blind-he'd certainly noticed her. But looking back, she realized she'd been the foolish one, falling for someone like that and nearlydosing herself in the process.

"That's it," Thorpe declared. "You're

coming back to Starfall City. No more of that ridiculous Greenvale nonsense. There are plenty of outstanding young men

vel

here enough to line up from here to the Arctic if they wanted to marry you. You find someone rice, and the sooner you get married, the better. Otherwise, I won't be able to rest in peace."

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