Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 268

Maybe it was the ultimatum in his voice, or maybe it was the fear of truly losing him for good, but Queenie abruptly choked off her sobs.

She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, smearing tears and makeup together, then threw herself into Julian’s arms again, clutching him so tightly it nearly squeezed the breath from his lungs. Her voice trembled, raw with desperation and panic.

“Julian… I’m sorry. I’ll stop, I promise. I’ll be good, I’ll understand, just… please, don’t leave me. Please, I’m begging you…”

Julian stood rigid, letting her cling to him without a word.

The only sounds left in the office were Queenie’s muffled crying and the rustle of papers scattered across the floor.

It was a long while before Julian seemed to come back to himself. He finally raised a hand, mechanically patting her back.

There was no warmth or tenderness in the gesture—just weariness, as if he was trapped in his own life with no way out.

Night had fallen by the time Julian managed to calm Queenie down and send her home. He stood alone, surveying the wreckage of his office.

He wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the city lights below—brilliant, indifferent. But inside, a heavy, inky melancholy spread through him, suffocating and inescapable.

——————

The next day, Gwyneth decided to go in to work.

She’d expected things to be rough, but the crowd of reporters outside the Fletcher Group building was even denser than the day before—row after row, cameras flashing like paparazzi at a red carpet event. Her head throbbed at the sight.

The moment the reporters spotted her car, they swarmed forward like sharks who’d scented blood, completely surrounding the vehicle. Flashbulbs exploded in rapid succession, and a torrent of questions bombarded her, making it nearly impossible to move an inch.

The company’s security guards were completely overwhelmed.

At this rate, she’d never make it inside—and neither would anyone else trying to work.

With no other choice, Gwyneth called in a professional security team, who forced a narrow corridor through the mob and escorted her, step by careful step, into the building.

This couldn’t go on.

As she stepped into the private elevator, she pressed her aching temples and sighed.

I have to fix this, and soon.

While the “Nimbus” revelation had sent Fletcher Group’s stock price soaring, she knew better than anyone that hype alone wouldn’t sustain the company. Real growth depended on solid business and steady leadership.

Reaching the top floor, Gwyneth forced herself to focus and started working through the backlog of paperwork from the day before.

She’d left the office door slightly ajar so her assistant could come and go easily.

Deep in a market analysis report, brow furrowed in concentration, she didn’t notice someone standing quietly at the door.

Serena hovered in the doorway, holding a folder, watching Gwyneth at her desk with a tangled mix of emotions.

Sunlight streamed through the giant windows, casting a soft halo around Gwyneth as she worked—her profile sharp, her movements precise, pen occasionally flicking to make a note. She radiated an effortless confidence and magnetism.

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