Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 107

Queenie’s hand rested gently on her still-flat stomach, her touch soft but undeniably possessive—a silent claim on what she believed was hers.

A poisonous malice flickered in her eyes, swirling like a living shadow.

Clinging to Julian’s arm, she tightened her hold, as if she were grasping a hard-won trophy, her ticket to ultimate victory.

Julian, oblivious to the storm raging beneath the surface, felt only the warmth of Queenie’s affection. He listened to her whisper words of happiness, pulling his thoughts back to the reality of soon becoming a father.

Over and over, he reminded himself:

This is the future I chose. This is the happiness I should cherish.

The woman he loved most was about to give him a child—a living testament to their love.

And Gwyneth?

What did she matter now? She couldn’t hold a candle to Queenie or the child—not even close.

His father was bound to accept Queenie, now that a baby was on the way.

As for Gwyneth…

It was time to secure the Fletcher Group shares as soon as possible.

***

The next morning, at Midrise Mansion.

Gwyneth had just finished reading the most unvarnished financial report Elodie had sent her—one she hadn’t had time to look at the previous day. A headache throbbed at her temples; she could only guess what tricks Winston had pulled to make Yohan take the blame for hundreds of millions in losses.

Madeline had been shipped overseas, but her ambitious uncle Winston was still wreaking havoc at Fletcher Group.

Gwyneth pressed her fingers to her brow, glancing at the clock.

Right. Today was the day of the Locke Group’s quarterly gala.

She drew a deep breath, tamping down the whirl of emotions before opening her bedroom door.

She stopped short.

The atmosphere in the sitting room was different from usual. Several impeccably dressed women stood quietly, their matching uniforms and poised demeanors marking them as a professional styling team. In the middle of them all stood a garment rack, draped with a heavy protective cover.

Beneath the cover, she could just make out the shimmer of a dazzling evening gown.

Bennett sat casually in an armchair nearby, coffee cup in hand, looking as if he’d simply wandered in by chance. At the sound of the door, he glanced up, his deep-set eyes calm and unreadable.

Setting his cup aside, he spoke with the easy detachment of someone commenting on the weather. “Try it on.”

His gaze flicked toward the covered dress.

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