Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 247

“I understand, Yale.”

Gwyneth’s voice was flat, emotionless, with a polite obedience that felt almost unnatural.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let it bother me.”

She ended the call. Whatever trace of warmth had lingered in her eyes vanished completely.

Tossing her phone carelessly aside, she pulled her slim laptop from her bag and flipped it open.

The pallid glow of the screen reflected on her face—calm, resolute, utterly unflinching.

Her slender fingers flew across the keyboard, as if playing a piece she’d long since mastered—each keystroke precise, elegant, practiced.

A few commands later, using a web of encrypted channels, the “gift” she’d prepared was dispatched—silent, untraceable.

When she finished, she closed the computer.

Almost the instant the laptop snapped shut, the internet—only moments ago sanitized and forcibly scrubbed clean—erupted as though someone had dropped a depth charge into its depths.

A new trending headline, marked by a blazing red “EXPOSED,” stormed to the top of every feed:

BREAKING: Julian’s Statement Is a Lie! Not an Amicable Breakup! Photographic Evidence Included!

Attached to the post were several crystal-clear photos.

In one, Julian and Queenie stood locked in an intimate embrace outside a private club, timestamped during the period he and Gwyneth were still publicly engaged.

Another showed a cryptic, boastful social media post from Queenie’s alternate account—the date a perfect match to the day Julian had given Gwyneth a particular gift. The subtext was unmistakable.

There were even more—shots of Julian’s car making repeated late-night visits to Queenie’s apartment.

Each image was paired with a simple timeline and blunt, irrefutable captions. There was no room left for denial.

Gwyneth had predicted the Locke family’s response, and she wasn’t foolish enough to come unprepared. She’d always had more than one ace up her sleeve.

When she moved, she made sure her opponents had nowhere left to hide.

The rumors, which had barely been contained, now burst forth like a volcano, even fiercer than before.

The anger of the public—along with their sense of having been played—doubled in intensity.

In the blink of an eye, Julian’s feeble “amicable breakup” statement became the joke of the year.

Gwyneth watched the chaos unfold on her screen, taking a slow sip of cool water from her glass.

Try to silence me?

Nice try.

She set down her glass, grabbed her car keys, and merged into the city’s nighttime traffic.

In the CEO’s office of Harvest Group, the mood had plummeted to arctic levels.

Scattered on the floor were fractured files and shards of a broken glass—testament to the storm that had just blown through.

The crisis they thought was settled had detonated all over again, thanks to some faceless hacker.

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