Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 121

Gwyneth’s expression remained serene, as if the chaos and noise swirling around her belonged to another world entirely.

With effortless grace, she reached into her purse and withdrew a pure white card, its only decoration a border of the thinnest gold thread. She handed it to the security officer standing at the entrance.

The guard accepted the card, but the moment his eyes landed on its material and the understated yet striking gold-embossed lettering, his entire demeanor shifted. The impersonal professionalism on his face evaporated, replaced by a deep, almost reverent solemnity.

He handled the card with both hands, careful not to smudge or bend it, turning it over to inspect a microscopic security seal that was nearly invisible to the naked eye. Then, with practiced efficiency, he scanned a barely noticeable chip embedded in the card using his handheld device.

Within seconds, his attitude transformed completely.

He snapped to attention and gave Gwyneth a formal, almost deferential bow. His voice rang out loud and clear, brimming with newfound respect:

“Welcome, Ms. Gwyneth, our distinguished Platinum Card guest! We are honored by your presence at Father Jeff’s Golden Anniversary celebration. Please, follow me—your private entrance and reserved seating are ready and waiting.”

His declaration echoed through the entryway, cutting through every whisper and private conversation.

A Platinum Card guest?

A private entrance?

Those words crashed over Queenie, Desiree, and Julian like thunderbolts.

Their smiles froze in place, faces cracking with shock and humiliation. The masks they wore shattered, leaving only raw disbelief and embarrassment.

A Platinum Card?

Their own champagne-hued invitations marked them as ordinary guests—while Gwyneth was holding the most exclusive pass, reserved only for a select few: the closest confidants or truly special guests.

A private entrance, too?

Even the onlookers, who had gathered to watch the commotion at the door, erupted in murmurs. Their gazes shifted to Gwyneth, now tinged with awe and curiosity.

Anyone holding a Platinum Card for Father Jeff’s Golden Anniversary must have a status that set them apart from the rest.

As Gwyneth slipped through the heavy, ornate doors of the private entrance, an uneasy silence descended on the foyer.

Queenie, Desiree, and Julian stood rooted to the spot, as if turned to stone, their faces still twisted with the sting of public humiliation, disbelief, and impotent fury.

“She… she really went in?!” Queenie was the first to recover, her voice sharp and shrill with resentment and disbelief.

How could this be?

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