From a Wrong Turn to Mr. Right novel Chapter 298

There wasn’t a trace of joy left on her face—just that tight, pained look people get when they’re holding back heartbreak and frustration. If you looked closer, you might even see a flicker of despair in her eyes.

Carmen Gates blinked, fighting to get her composure back. Her voice, low and shaky, cut through the tension as she turned to Daniel Gill. “Go stay with Lavinia. I’ll head up to my room by myself.”

Her words trembled, barely holding it together. Before she left, she shot Mason Bennett a cold, hard look.

Daniel watched her go, then finally moved toward Lavinia Bennett, who was sitting stiffly at the table in her now slightly rumpled wedding dress. “Why don’t you go back to your room too, Lavinia? Change out of the dress. Dad and I will deal with the mess out here.”

Lavinia barely looked up. She wanted to say something, but her mind was a total blank. The whole ruined wedding weighed on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

She just nodded.

Daniel immediately signaled one of the staff to help Lavinia out.

As Carmen disappeared up the stairs, Mason Bennett let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

He turned to the guests, running through possible damage-control speeches in his head, but before he could get a word out, one of the women Carmen had just glared at stood up, grabbed her clutch, and announced, “You know what? I’m not sticking around for this mess. I’ve lost my appetite.”

Without waiting for a response, Ms. Charles turned on her heel and strode toward the door.

Mason froze. Then, realizing what was happening, he scrambled after her, plastering on a polite, desperate grin. “Ms. Charles, please—don’t take it personally. That wasn’t about you. It’s all under control now, really. You’re already here, why not at least stay for dinner? There’s roast beef, mashed potatoes—”

She stopped, fixing him with a frosty stare. “No, thanks. I’m in no mood for food. Please, let me go.”

Her tone was sharper than a slap, and her patience was clearly on its last thread.

Mason couldn’t exactly drag her back to the table, so he just watched, frustrated, as she left.

And of course, as soon as one person walked out, another followed—grabbing their coat and purse, heading for the exit.

Mason felt his blood pressure rise; his anger and irritation were about to boil over. He wanted to just explode, but these were people he couldn’t afford to offend, so all he could do was force a smile and try to patch things up.

Across the room, Damian Franklin watched the scene with narrowed eyes, his expression cold and mocking.

This, he thought, was just the beginning. He’d expose Mason’s true colors, piece by piece. Everything Mason valued—he’d take it, one step at a time.

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