Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 130

What was on his mind had nothing to do with justice for the Suttons. Yale wasn’t here to fight for fairness—he was here to scavenge whatever gold he could from this sinking ship.

He was already eyeing the Suttons’ remaining core assets and shares, the ones they hadn’t mortgaged to the hilt.

And as for Gwyneth…

A spark flickered in Yale’s eyes.

The girl had found her wings lately. Last time, even Bennett got dragged into her drama. She’d stirred up a storm last night and walked away not just unscathed, but with her reputation burnished. She was no longer the pliant orphan from the Fletchers, hopelessly devoted to Julian, who could be manipulated at will.

The Suttons storming in with this spectacle? It was an opportunity.

Yale sighed, his face shifting to a look of concern and pained empathy as he cut off Eleanor’s tearful complaints.

“Damian, Eleanor, I understand how you feel. Desiree… well, with something like this, anyone would be upset. But—”

He changed tack, his tone taking on the reasoned calm of an “impartial elder.”

“I’ve watched Gwyneth grow up. She’s got a stubborn streak, sure, but to suggest she’d go so far as to frame Desiree deliberately… Isn’t it possible there’s some misunderstanding?”

He looked between Damian and Eleanor, his gaze soothing.

“Gwyneth’s always been well-behaved and reasonable. Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll call her over so we can clear things up face to face. If there’s a misunderstanding, we’ll straighten it out. The Suttons are going through a tough time right now. More than ever, we need to stick together—not give outsiders something to gossip about.”

He put a pointed emphasis on “outsiders” and “stick together,” making it clear who he thought didn’t truly belong.

With that, Yale pulled out his phone and dialed Gwyneth.

She answered almost immediately, and Yale’s face blossomed into a gentle, grandfatherly smile—a warmth so practiced it was nearly fake.

“Hello, Gwyneth? It’s Yale. Are you free? Could you come over? Damian and Eleanor are here, and so is Desiree. We all… well, we’d like to talk—just to clear up a little misunderstanding.”

At that moment, Bennett was holding Gwyneth’s hand tightly.

She glanced at him, almost forgetting their interlaced fingers. Yale’s syrupy, practiced tone came through the phone, but her eyes remained icy, her expression laced with bitter irony.

A misunderstanding? Talk things over?

The Suttons had shown up, dragging a hysterical Desiree in tow. Yale was playing peacemaker in the middle, but Gwyneth could see right through him with her eyes closed.

He wanted to use her “soon-to-be daughter-in-law” status to throw the Suttons a bone—or, more bluntly, push her into admitting to something, so Yale could scoop up whatever was left from the Suttons’ collapse.

Did he expect her to play along, to be a pawn in some Locke family power swap?

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