Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 144

“Julian’s been talking about you constantly. You know how it is with young people—a few arguments here and there are normal. Married couples always squabble, but it all blows over by bedtime,” Yale said, voice genial but gaze brimming with quiet authority. “I still hope you two can settle the wedding soon. It’d be nice to see the Locke family grow.”

His words were light, but the weight behind them was unmistakable.

Gwyneth kept her polite smile in place, though inwardly she sneered. Old fox—he wore the mask of a kindly patriarch so well.

Julian jumped in immediately, his tone dripping with rehearsed warmth and reassurance as he looked at Gwyneth with almost theatrical fondness. “Don’t worry, Dad. Gwyneth and I… we’re doing great.”

He paused deliberately, as if to underscore just how “close” they were.

Gwyneth didn’t bother to reply. Her lips only curled upward a fraction, the smile deepening, while her eyes remained flat and cold.

Great? What a joke. Lying through your teeth, Julian—always your specialty. I’m already a married woman. Who the hell wants to play house with you? I’m your sister-in-law now, for God’s sake.

She scoffed silently, her gaze sweeping the room.

Queenie didn’t show up today?

So Yale’s word really does have some weight. He managed to pin down that buzzing nuisance.

Good. One less headache.

This whole charade of “family harmony” made her stomach turn.

With practiced grace, Gwyneth rose from her seat. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly to both Yale and Julian. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

Julian’s eyes clung to her as she left, possessive and, beneath the surface, a little anxious. He watched every step she took, gaze burning into her back until she disappeared behind the ornate columns leading to the side hall.

Gwyneth had barely reached the quiet corridor outside the restroom when, out of nowhere, a strong hand yanked her into the ladies’ room.

“Ah!” She gasped, heart slamming against her ribs.

She struggled instinctively, but when she saw who had her pinned, her blood ran cold.

Bennett.

He caged her against the cold tiled wall, his broad frame a wall of heat and muscle, leaving her barely enough space to breathe.

The overhead light cast sharp shadows across his chiseled features, and his eyes—those deep, stormy eyes—were fixed on her, swirling with a dangerous intensity she knew all too well.

He leaned in, breath hot against her ear, the intimacy almost unbearable—yet his words were icy, edged with accusation.

“Getting married soon, are we?” Bennett’s voice was low and rough, each syllable laced with jealousy and threat, striking her nerves like hammer blows. “Mrs. Boyd, are you looking to find out what bigamy feels like?”

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