Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 21

Yet behind Graham, there was no one.

With a furrowed brow, Graham reported respectfully, “Sir, your eldest son said he has an urgent international meeting to handle… He might be late.”

“Nonsense!” Yale barked, his voice cold and commanding. “He just got back yesterday. He’s well aware tonight is the family dinner!”

Gwyneth lowered her gaze, masking the surprise in her eyes. So, Yale’s relationship with the Locke family’s eldest son wasn’t as cordial as she’d assumed. Clearly, there was more going on here—something she’d have to find out for herself.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her clutch. Elodie’s name flashed across the screen. For her to call at this hour, it had to be urgent.

“Excuse me, I need to take this,” Gwyneth murmured, then hurried to a quiet corner of the garden. The moment she answered, Elodie’s breathless voice spilled through: “Gwyneth, I found it! The security footage from right before your parents’ accident!”

Gwyneth felt her blood freeze. This could be the key to uncovering the truth.

“The last person they met before they died was Julian!” Elodie’s voice was nearly a shriek. “On the footage, your father hands him a manila envelope—your name is written on it!”

A gentle breeze suddenly turned icy. Gwyneth gripped her phone tightly, her voice trembling with a strange chill. “Are you sure it was Julian?”

“Absolutely! I hacked into the traffic bureau’s archives, but—” frantic typing echoed on the other end, “someone’s trying to trace me! Meet me at our old spot right now. I’ll give you the files—”

A harsh burst of static cut the call short.

When Gwyneth turned, Julian was standing just five steps away, the moonlight glinting coldly off the gold rims of his glasses. He wore a faint smile, but his tone was as icy as ever. “What’s wrong, Gwyneth?”

Forcing herself to stay calm, she gestured to her phone, letting the breeze brush her hair and carry its faint scent. Her eyes, still tinged red, dropped as she met Julian’s gaze. “It’s Elodie—she’s had a sudden appendicitis attack. She’s in the hospital. I need to go.”

The car door opened. A tall figure stepped out.

He wore a sharply tailored black overcoat, the clean lines of his shoulders cast in sharp relief by the moonlight. With his back to her, he bent his head to adjust his cuff, revealing a pale wrist adorned with a very expensive Patek Philippe.

That watch… Gwyneth was sure she’d seen it before. Almost involuntarily, she took a step forward, her high heel crunching a dry leaf beneath it.

The man seemed to pause at the sound, his footsteps faltering for the briefest moment. But he didn’t turn around. Without a glance back, he strode into the brightly lit manor.

From somewhere near the door, the butler’s polite voice drifted through the night. “Sir, your father’s been waiting for you.”

So this was the Locke family’s elusive eldest son—the one no one had ever seen before.