Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 186

A powerful current was suddenly split apart.

Strong, steady arms—radiating an unwavering, undeniable strength—cut through the icy water and wrapped firmly around her sinking waist, anchoring her with a force that brooked no argument.

Just before she slipped into unconsciousness, Gwyneth felt herself pulled into a searingly warm, broad embrace—a place of absolute safety. That familiar scent wrapped around her, chasing away the numbing cold and overwhelming despair, yanking her back from the very edge of darkness.

On the poolside, the commotion finally caught someone’s attention. Shouts erupted:

“Oh my God! Someone’s in the water!”

“It’s Gwyneth from Harvest Group—Gwyneth!”

“Mr. Boyd just jumped in!”

“Wait—did Mr. Boyd really dive in to save his secretary?”

Beneath the frigid surface, Bennett held Gwyneth’s limp body tightly against him. The storm in his usually inscrutable eyes now burned with a rage and lethal intent that could have scorched the world itself.

He clung to her as if she were a rare, irreplaceable treasure—one he’d just snatched back from the jaws of death—and surged upward through the water at breakneck speed.

As Bennett broke the surface with Gwyneth in his arms, he caught sight of the shocked faces crowding the pool’s edge. In that instant, every trace of his fury and raw distress vanished, hidden away with surgical precision.

He couldn’t let it show. Not now—not when the woman he’d just rescued from the brink was so vulnerable and exposed. Any sign of weakness, any display of emotion, would only become ammunition for their enemies—fodder to throw her into the center of further scheming and scrutiny.

So, when Bennett strode out of the water and onto the pool deck, his face was a mask of chilling calm. Only the taut muscles in his arms, trembling ever so slightly as he held Gwyneth, betrayed the turmoil raging beneath the surface.

With utmost care, he laid her shivering, drenched body onto a lounge chair layered with thick towels.

Immediately, one of the bodyguards stepped forward, offering a dry, oversized towel and Bennett’s own black suit jacket, still carrying his crisp, clean scent.

Gwyneth clutched the jacket around herself, soaking in its lingering warmth. The cold in her bones finally eased, but the exhaustion of narrowly surviving left her vision spinning and her limbs weak.

She gulped in air, fighting to steady her pounding heart and scattered thoughts.

By now, a crowd had gathered. At the front was Julian, his expression shifting between shock and something much more complicated—eyes dark with emotion.

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