Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 255

He opened his mouth, about to press further, desperate to find even the faintest shred of evidence that this was just a misunderstanding.

But before he could get a word out—

The figure standing by the window slowly turned around.

Her movements were unhurried, graceful, and composed in a way that made them almost mesmerizing.

And then, as Julian stared in shocked disbelief, she raised a delicate hand; slender fingers rested lightly on the edge of the exquisite blue feathered mask.

Her fingertips moved, deftly undoing a hidden clasp at the side.

With quiet finality, she removed the mask.

In that instant, the face that had been concealed beneath the mysterious mask was revealed in the soft glow of the private lounge—completely, with nowhere left to hide.

Perfectly shaped brows, striking eyes, a sculpted nose, and full, crimson lips—all together forming a face Julian knew so well he could trace it in his sleep, yet, at this moment, it felt so alien that it sent a chill through his bones.

Gwyneth.

A deafening roar exploded in his mind.

For a moment, Julian’s vision went black; his mind blanked out as if every drop of blood had rushed to his head, only to drain away in the next second.

His eyes flew wide open, pupils shrinking to pinpoints in sheer shock, so much so that his gaze went unfocused for a split second.

He stared at her—unblinking, lips quivering uncontrollably, unable to form any sound.

How could it be her?!

How could Gwyneth be—

The very Gwyneth he’d thought had no right to an invitation, who didn’t even belong at this gala—

She was Nimbus? She was the legendary designer he had schemed and groveled to impress at any cost?!

A tidal wave of humiliation and absurdity crashed over him—he felt like he’d just been slapped across the face, hard.

He still refused to believe it. Maybe Gwyneth had orchestrated this, desperate for revenge, trying to trick him somehow. His throat felt tight, as if someone had wrapped invisible fingers around his neck. When he finally managed to speak, his voice was a ragged, broken whisper:

“Gwyneth?! Where’s Nimbus? How—how could it be you?!”

Was she impersonating Nimbus?

Just to lure him here for dinner?

He wanted to believe this was all some elaborate prank Gwyneth was playing to get back at him.

But Gwyneth only arched an eyebrow, a cold, mocking smile curving her red lips, as if she’d just heard the most ridiculous joke.

Her eyes regarded him the way one might look at a hopeless fool.

As if to say: Who filled your head with such delusions?

She didn’t bother to dignify his idiotic questions with a response. Instead, she moved with unhurried elegance to the head of the table, sitting down with the ease of someone entirely at home. She even took a moment to smooth her dress, every gesture exuding a calm authority that made Julian’s distress look even more ridiculous.

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