Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 179

Gwyneth pushed open the front door, letting herself into the house as the soft, golden glow of the entryway lamp chased away the chill and pretense she’d brought home from Skyward Taste.

Almost instinctively, her gaze drifted upstairs toward the study. A thin beam of warm light spilled through the cracked door.

He’s still up?

Is he waiting for me?

Bennett’s words—“I’ll be waiting for you at home”—echoed unexpectedly in her mind, weaving a sense of calm she hadn’t even realized she needed.

She tiptoed upstairs, paused at the study door, and gently nudged it open.

Bennett sat with his back to her, behind his spacious desk. The pale glow from his computer screen carved out the sharp lines of his profile and filled the room with a tense, almost oppressive energy.

But he wasn’t working. He wasn’t reading a file. Instead, he just sat there, uncharacteristically still, eyes locked on the screen, so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed her come in.

Gwyneth was taken aback.

She’d never seen Bennett like this—so absent, so deeply distracted. He was always the picture of composure: cool, incisive, in control of everything.

What on earth could shake him like this?

She masked her surprise, stepped inside, and spoke in a gentle tone, “You’re still up?”

Bennett’s shoulders flinched, almost imperceptibly, as if she had startled him awake from some heavy reverie.

He turned suddenly, those deep eyes reflecting the glow from the screen—dark, intense, and swirling with a cold, predatory sharpness. For a moment, his gaze was so piercing, so guarded, that it bordered on hostility.

But when he saw it was her, the storm in his eyes retreated as quickly as it had appeared, vanishing like a tide sucked back into the sea. Gwyneth’s heart skipped a beat.

Even more surprising, the instant her eyes flickered to his laptop, Bennett shut it with a snap—quick, almost forceful, the sound slicing through the room and cutting off both the light and her view.

A knot tightened in Gwyneth’s chest.

What’s on there that I can’t see?

Company secrets?

Bennett smoothed over any trace of agitation, but beneath his composed exterior, something turbulent still simmered. He looked at Gwyneth, his voice low and unreadable: “Yeah. I was waiting for you.”

Those three simple words—waiting for you—struck her again, softer but deeper this time.

She looked at him. Only a single floor lamp lit the study, its amber light blurring the edges of everything. Bennett sat half in shadow, half in light, the planes of his handsome face caught between the two—dangerous, magnetic.

She hovered in the doorway, torn.

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