Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 52

Gwyneth traced the rim of her mug absentmindedly. The milk inside shimmered and quivered, tiny ripples spreading across its surface like wind brushing over a lake.

“Yeah,” she murmured, voice soft. “It’s a good chance to learn something new.”

Bennett stood up and headed for the stairs. As he walked, he said over his shoulder, “If you need anything, just let me know.”

His back was to her, expression unreadable, his eyes like ink. He knew Gwyneth was unlikely to take up the offer, but he couldn’t help saying it anyway.

She watched him go, silent for a moment before retreating to her own bedroom.

Tonight, sleep would come easily.

***

Locke Group Marketing Department

Morning sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but it didn’t chase away the tension clinging to the office air.

Marcus’s office stood empty, the computer still aglow. On the screen, an email remained open—“Investigation Report Regarding Allegations of Embezzlement by Marcus.”

A few colleagues clustered near the kitchenette, voices low and urgent.

“Did you hear? Mr. Clayton got arrested at a hotel last night—embezzlement, apparently. The police just hauled him off!”

“Miranda’s in today to hand in her resignation. Her face is so swollen she barely looks human…”

“Shh! Look—”

At the far end of the hallway, Miranda appeared, sunglasses hiding her eyes, a nasty bruise blooming over her right cheekbone and a crust of dried blood at the corner of her mouth. She cradled a cardboard box, moving silently toward the elevator.

As she passed Gwyneth’s desk, Miranda paused, her gaze—sharp as a knife behind those glasses—cutting right through her.

Gwyneth said nothing, just watched her go.

Youth can be an asset, but it’s not a license to be someone’s side piece.

“Gwyneth, the director wants to see you.”

The voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

***

Marketing Director’s Office

When Gwyneth stepped inside, Lance Dalton stood with his back to her at the window, fingertips pinching a file.

“Sit,” he said, not bothering to turn around. His voice was low, heavy.

She took a seat, cool and composed, glancing over his desk.

Marcus’s offboarding paperwork was already processed, but the open project proposal was splattered with a coffee stain, as if someone had slammed their mug down in anger.

Lance finally turned, eyes razor-sharp. “Marcus left in a hurry, but there’s a key project he didn’t finish.”

He slid the file across to her.

“Quarterly Women’s Market Finance Strategy”

“This project drives last quarter’s results. You’ll be presenting it at the company gala in ten days.” His tone was calm, but there was no room for negotiation. “You’ll take over.”

Gwyneth didn’t reach for the file immediately. Instead, she met his gaze. “Why me?”

Lance suddenly broke into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Then, bizarrely, he rushed over and dropped to one knee in front of her.

Gwyneth could tell he was up to no good. She rolled her eyes. “Out with it.”

“Well…we still haven’t secured a spokesperson.” He looked sheepish.

“Brilliant,” Gwyneth muttered, utterly exasperated.

She studied the proposal, her finger tracing the section labeled “Brand Ambassador.”

“Proposed: Yardley Shepard (breakout historical drama star)”

Over a hundred million followers on Twitter, famous for that enigmatic, tragic vibe, lead in several hit period dramas.

She looked up slowly. “Have you reached out?”

Lance anxiously tugged at his perfectly-groomed hair. “I tried my brother’s negotiation tips! I told him—”

“If you work with us, you’ll get exposure galore in the finance section!”

Gwyneth pressed her fingers to her forehead. “…You said that to a moody, internet-famous period drama star?”

Lance, looking even more aggrieved, pulled out the contract that had been returned.

“I even added a clause—when he live streams in costume, he can casually promote Locke Group’s women’s financial products…”

“And?” Gwyneth could already imagine the other party’s reaction.

Lance gulped, eyes darting away, fingers nervously picking at the desk.

“He replied with just six words—”

“Are you out of your mind?”