Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 194

The master bedroom fell quiet once more.

Bennett lounged against the headboard, listening as hurried footsteps retreated down the hallway. At last, the smile tugging at his lips broke free, spreading wider until it blossomed into a low, satisfied chuckle that echoed through the still room.

He lifted a hand, absentmindedly tracing his lips with long, slender fingers. He could still feel a lingering warmth, soft and gentle, as well as that clean, subtle scent she always carried.

Meanwhile, Gwyneth all but bolted back to her own room. She slammed the door shut and pressed her back against its cool surface, only then allowing herself to gasp for air.

Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, and the heat on her cheeks and ears refused to fade. She could still see Bennett’s eyes, dancing with knowing amusement and teasing mischief.

He knew.

He knew everything.

The realization made her want to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Ding-dong—

The sharp chime of her phone startled her out of her mortification.

It was a message from Elodie, with a video attached.

Gwyneth drew a deep breath, trying to steady her racing pulse before tapping the screen to play the video.

The footage was clearly shot in secret—a shaky, hidden angle and slightly grainy, but the setting was unmistakable: a quiet, out-of-the-way corridor.

On screen, Queenie was seen slipping an inconspicuous dark brown vial into Desiree’s hand.

Desiree looked jittery and excited, quickly tucking the bottle away in her purse.

The two exchanged a few hurried words. Queenie clapped Desiree on the shoulder, a sly, meaningful smile on her face, and they went their separate ways.

The video cut out.

Almost instantly, Elodie’s call came through, her voice buzzing with both excitement and icy disdain:

“Did you see it? Quite the show, right? Dug it right out of that useless waitress’s spare phone—she must’ve wanted some insurance. Looks like Queenie wasn’t just a bystander tonight—she handed Desiree the knife herself! Too bad they only caught Desiree and the waitress in the act. Queenie slipped right through.”

Staring at the now-dark screen, Gwyneth’s eyes turned cold as steel.

All earlier embarrassment was swept away by a surge of icy anger.

“Queenie…”

She murmured the name, fingers unconsciously curling tight.

Not only had Queenie been involved—she might’ve been the one providing the crucial “props.”

Desiree was just the obvious attacker; Queenie, the hidden dagger.

There was no way Desiree, the pampered darling, could come up with such a petty, underhanded scheme on her own.

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