Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 88

The conference room door burst open. Four uniformed security guards, all broad-shouldered and stone-faced, marched in with determined strides. In an instant, they positioned themselves like a wall of iron, cutting Yohan off from Gwyneth, their cold eyes fixed squarely on their target.

“Mr. Yohan.” The security chief’s voice was clipped and icy. “You’ll need to come with us.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere! Let go of me! Gwyneth! You’re abusing your authority! You—” Yohan’s furious shouts quickly devolved into desperate, panicked thrashing as the guards seized him.

Meanwhile, Madeline had collapsed onto the carpet, her legs unable to support her. Sobbing helplessly, she fumbled with her phone, trying to call Winston, but the line wouldn’t connect.

The deputy director, sprawled on the floor, stared ahead with a gray, vacant expression, all resistance drained from him.

Gwyneth stood at the head of the table, watching coolly as the guards dragged a pale, howling Yohan away as if he were nothing more than a sack of garbage. She didn’t flinch as the shaken Madeline and the rest of the cowering executives were led out one by one.

Soon, the room was empty, save for her.

She slowly lowered herself into her chair, her gaze lingering on the scattered documents and an overturned chair lying askew on the floor.

The air still throbbed with the echoes of Yohan’s screams and the lingering scent of fear.

————

On the top floor of Fletcher Group’s headquarters, the lights in the new CEO’s office shone late into the evening.

Gwyneth closed the last urgent document, her fingertip tapping lightly against the polished desk.

Outside, neon lights had begun to flicker across the city, their glow reflected in her calm, unblinking eyes.

Winston, it’s your move.

She could picture her uncle now—skulking in some corner, frantic as an animal trapped in a cage, completely rattled by the news that Yohan and Madeline had both been “escorted away.” He was probably panicking, ready to come crawling to her—maybe to beg, maybe to threaten, maybe to try and cash in on whatever scraps of family loyalty he thought still remained between them.

Let him stew.

Let him taste real fear for once.

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