Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 44

“The CEO said he needs it now. Are you questioning his decision?” Desiree’s eyes were steely, her tone laced with impatience.

“Of course, Ms. Sutton.” Gwyneth looked up, meeting Desiree’s challenging gaze.

Desiree gave a cold, mocking smile. As she turned to leave, she “accidentally” knocked over the coffee cup—

A wave of brown liquid splattered across the stack of documents.

“Oh dear, butterfingers,” Desiree said with feigned surprise, not a trace of apology in her eyes.

Gwyneth eyed the sodden paperwork, her expression cooling.

5:00 p.m.

Gwyneth had just finished drying and reorganizing the soaked files when her office phone rang. She picked up, and Desiree’s pampered voice drifted through the line:

“Gwyneth, I need you to double-check the quarterly reports. There’s something wrong with the numbers.”

Gwyneth opened the file and quickly realized someone had tampered with the critical data—using transparent font to alter the numbers. If she hadn’t looked closely, she never would have caught it.

If she handed it in as is, someone would surely “find the mistake.” At best, she'd get a scolding; at worst, she could be fired on the spot.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up the original numbers to compare.

Desiree was clearly out to destroy her reputation at Locke Group.

But why? What was her endgame?

Now wasn’t the time to make a scene.

7:00 p.m.

The office lights glowed coldly against the encroaching dusk. At this global firm, nobody worked overtime—except her. Gwyneth was alone.

She rubbed her aching neck and stared out the window.

The sunset had set the sky ablaze, the clouds burning with colors so vivid they almost hurt the eyes.

She drifted for a moment, lost in thought.

A view like this should be shared with someone.

The phone’s sudden ring startled her.

“Bennett” flashed on the screen.

Gwyneth stared at the name for two seconds before answering.

“Hello?”

Bennett’s voice was as detached as ever, but she caught a familiar undertone: “Mia said you didn’t come home for dinner.”

Gwyneth’s fingers idly traced the edge of the file, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Working late.”

A brief silence.

“Don’t stay too late,” Bennett said, his voice even more steady than usual.

She glanced around the empty office, feeling a ripple of warmth in her chest. “Okay. Are you not home?”

Another pause, just a beat too long.

“I’m out of town for business. I’ll be back in a few days.” His voice was low, clear.

Business trip? He’s been gone all day. Was Ben traveling with him?

Gwyneth shook her head, pushing away the thought.

“I’m heading home now.” She glanced at the nearly finished report and started packing up.

“Drive safe.”

The call ended right after those words.

He closed his eyes briefly, not replying.

That night in the storm, he remembered clinging to her wrist—like a drowning man to driftwood—whispering, “Don’t leave me.”

When he woke, she was curled up asleep beside his bed.

For the first time, he’d felt something like fear. Who was he to hope for such warmth?

He, Bennett—“The Ice King” of the business world, feared and respected by all—had shown her his most fragile side.

So he ran.

A long time passed.

At last, Bennett lit the cigarette.

Wreathed in smoke, he called Hugo.

“What’s going on at Locke Group?”

Hugo’s cautious voice came through: “Mrs. Boyd… Desiree’s been giving her a hard time. She’s still working late tonight.”

Bennett’s eyes turned icy.

She’s got a death wish.

“Send out a notice tomorrow—no more overtime for anyone. And keep Desiree occupied.” Bennett stubbed out his cigarette, barely noticing the burn on his palm.

This wasn’t the time to deal with Desiree directly. Yale was still lurking in the shadows, and he couldn’t risk pushing her over the edge.

But still—

Desiree, was it?

It seemed Sutton Group wouldn’t be sticking around much longer.