Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 224

A look of irritation grew more and more apparent on her face.

She pulled out her phone and, without hesitation, dialed Julian’s number.

The line rang for a long time before someone finally picked up.

Before she could say a word, a shrill, mocking voice burst through the receiver, dripping with challenge and triumph:

“Gwyneth?!”

Queenie’s voice was so loud it drowned out all the background noise.

“Have you no shame? Seriously, you just can’t quit, can you? Calling over and over to seduce someone else’s man—are you really that desperate for attention? Julian doesn’t have time for you right now!”

There was a scuffle on the other end, as if the phone was being snatched away, then Julian’s voice cut in, low and seething with anger, clearly directed at Queenie: “Queenie! That’s enough! Give me the phone!”

A brief struggle followed, punctuated by muffled noises and raised voices.

Gwyneth stared at her phone, not even bothering to decipher exactly what was happening. She no longer saw any reason to keep listening, let alone speak.

He’d asked her out for dinner, and yet here he was, tangled up with another woman.

Whatever patience she had left drained away, replaced by a cold, absolute disgust.

Without another thought—without waiting for Julian to say anything—she pressed the “end call” button, swift and decisive.

The world went silent in an instant.

There was nothing left to wait for.

Clearly, Mr. Locke was far too “busy” tonight to keep his dinner date with his so-called fiancée.

Amazingly, she didn’t feel the slightest bit of anger or sadness—only a sharp, almost absurd sense of irony.

Without hesitation, she grabbed her purse and jacket, stood up, and addressed the waiting server in a voice as cold as ice.

“I won’t be waiting. Please cancel my reservation.”

The server blinked in surprise, but Gwyneth simply turned on her heel, heels clicking purposefully on the floor, and walked out of the restaurant without a backward glance.

—————

A black Rolls-Royce cruised down the road.

Bennett sat in the back seat, wrapped in a tailored black overcoat, the fatigue of a long flight etched in his features. Dark shadows lingered beneath his eyes.

He leaned back against the plush seat, resting his eyes for a few minutes before finally reaching for his phone and turning it on.

A string of notifications chimed in rapid succession.

He skimmed through them—mostly summaries of important company business he’d missed during his time away.

Suddenly, a headline in the financial news feed caught his eye.

Surprise Victory! Fletcher Group Stuns the Field, Wins Major Calmgrove City Senior Center Bid!

Gwyneth landed the project?

Bennett’s weary face relaxed at once; a flicker of admiration flashed in his eyes. The hard line of his mouth even softened, curving into the barest hint of a smile.

He’d known it all along.

She was never some fragile, dependent wallflower.

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