The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Gwyneth thought her great-grandfather sounded far too energetic for someone supposedly on his deathbed. She eyed him, suspicion flickering in her gaze as she studied him for a long moment.

"Alright, hold on. Let me make a quick call," Thorpe announced, and with a magician's flourish, he pulled a phone from under his pillow and dialed his personal assistant.

"I want you to bring me a list of every notable young gentleman in Starfall City under twenty-five-anyone with a name worth knowing. Bring it to the central hospital, ten minutes tops. I'll be waiting."

Hanging up, Thorpe turned to Gwyneth with a conspiratorial grin. "See, Gwyn? Tall, short, slim, stocky—they're all on that list. You can take your time, pick whoever catches your eye."

He gave her a reassuring wink, his old eyes sharp and unwavering. "I may be an old man, but my eyesight and hearing are just fine. I've met more people than I can count, and I know how to pick the good ones. Trust me, sweetheart. If you find someone you like, just tell me. As long as you're happy, we'll have the wedding right away. Sound good?"

Gwyneth was momentarily stunned. Was he really sick at all?

"Grandpa, there's no rush with my situation," she started to protest.noveldrama

But Thorpe quickly cut her off. "Now, don't say that. I'm over seventy, you know. It's not easy for an old man to live long enough to see his grandkids and great- grandkids grow up. But I've got one last wish-to see my precious Gwyn married. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll even live to meet my great-great-grandchild. Then I could die with no regrets."

Gwyneth looked at his hair, now completely silver, and noticed the tears starting to well in his eyes.

"Our family, the Langfords... I don't know what curse we picked up back in my day. Starting with your grandfather, no Langford son has made it past twenty-five either dying young or ending up like your father, stuck in a coma and never waking up."

The old man's voice broke, thick with grief. "If I could, I'd take all these hardships on myself. I just don't want this horrible curse to haunt the next generation."

Gwyneth felt a lump rising in her throat. Just then, a nurse wheeled in a cart, followed by a doctor.

"It's time for the patient's medication and injections," the doctor announced.

Gwyneth stepped aside as Thorpe dutifully rolled up his sleeve for the

shot. But when it came to swallowing his pills, he flat-out refused, wrinkling his nose and grumbling about how bitter they were and accusing the nurse of trying to poison him. No amount of coaxing worked.

“Thank you, I'll handle this," Gwyneth finally said, taking the medicine. Someone nearby—she didn't see who-handed her a piece of candy. She assumed it was from the doctor.

"Grandpa, if you take your meds with this candy, it won't taste bitter at all," she coaxed.

Thorpe snorted. "You're just like your dad—always trying to trick me."

Gwyneth managed a wry smile. "Didn't you say you wanted to see me married and settled down? If you don't take your medicine, you might miss it. Please, Grandpa, be good and take your pills for me, alright?"

After much cajoling, Thorpe finally relented, though he kept up a steady stream of complaints as he

swallowed the pills. When it was net

done, he settled back under the

covers, but he wouldn't let go of Gwyneth's hand.

"My Gwyn has grown up," he murmured, his voice soft and

distant. "You're the one I worry about most... What happened to your scoundrel of a father isn't your fault. Life just deals the cards it with. All I want is for you to find someone who loves you with all his heart and will take care of you. Then I'll have peace."

His voice grew fainter and fainter, until finally, Thorpe closed his eyes.