Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 39

When the door to the VIP lounge swung open, Bennett was lost in thought, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. He looked up, his gaze turning cold and indifferent as he saw who had entered.

“What brings you here.” It wasn’t a question.

Bennett set his glass down and leaned back into the leather sofa, his long fingers tapping twice on the armrest.

Julian stood at the threshold, unmoving. Behind gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes quickly swept across the entire room, assessing.

Queenie’s stilettos clicked sharply against the marble floor as she stepped in, careful and deliberate, her gaze sweeping over every corner like a searchlight.

Besides Bennett, several of his close friends were gathered—Uriel, Mikael, and Lydia. It was rare to see this crowd together, let alone outside glossy magazine spreads.

On the coffee table in front of them lay cigars and glasses of liquor, but to Bennett’s right sat a solitary white mug, a faint lipstick stain on its rim.

Queenie’s fingers curled involuntarily at the sight.

That should have been me sitting there. Why her?

“We heard you were here for a business meeting. Thought we’d drop by and say hello.” Julian’s gaze lingered on the white mug, the corner of his mouth twitching in a barely perceptible smirk.

Bennett watched as they approached Gwyneth’s usual seat. His brow creased, and a note of irritation colored his words. “Is that so? I thought the old man sent you to spy on me.”

Queenie suddenly bent over, feigning curiosity. “Mr. Boyd, having milk by yourself?” Straightening, she shot a pointed look at the mug.

Mikael looked up in confusion. “Milk? That’s for his wife.”

The air in the lounge seemed to freeze.

Bennett’s eyes went icy. Under the table, Uriel gave Mikael a swift kick.

“She was here too?” Julian arched a brow. “Funny, I didn’t see her.”

Bennett took his time with a sip of whiskey, his movements unhurried. “She had something to take care of.” He set the glass down, the base chiming against the tray. “She just left.”

“Will she be back?” Queenie’s eyes flickered, her intent a little too obvious.

Julian shot her a warning look, but kept his gaze locked on Bennett, searching for any betraying hint in his expression.

Suddenly, Bennett rose to his full height, casting a long shadow beneath the crystal chandelier. Adjusting his cuffs with easy elegance, he made Queenie instinctively retreat half a step.

“You talk too much,” he said, meeting Queenie’s eyes with a low, dangerous voice.

Her red lips parted, but no words came.

What did Bennett mean by that? Was he afraid she’d be upset about him and that woman—or was he bothered by her connection to Julian?

Julian smoothly stepped between them. “Don’t joke, Bennett.” He glanced meaningfully at the milk-stained mug. “Give her my regards.”

Bennett said nothing. Face blank, he turned and strode toward the restroom.

By the time she regained her composure, Bennett was already striding away down the corridor.

What did he mean by all this?

The sketches had to have come from him. Yet he neither admitted nor denied it. That rejection earlier—he must have just been worried someone would see.

—

Meanwhile, at Nocturne Spirits’ office.

Gwyneth pushed open the door to find Stephen waiting. The faithful assistant, who had served her father for over twenty years, looked older than she remembered—the silver at his temples more pronounced, the lines at his eyes deeper.

“Gwyneth.” Stephen stood, concern etched across his face. “You’ve lost weight.”

The simple remark nearly unraveled her composure. Swallowing hard, she shut the door and locked it behind her.

“Stephen, Julian’s been cheating on me,” she blurted, her voice trembling. “With Queenie.”

Stephen’s face darkened instantly.

“That bastard!” He slammed his fist on the desk, making the tea cup rattle. “I always knew he was no good! And Queenie—what a thankless wretch. Your mother treated her like her own daughter. So that means, back when your father was alive—”

“What about my father?” Gwyneth’s eyes narrowed, catching the hesitation in his voice.