Karma Doesn’t Sleep The Revenge Queen Rises novel Chapter 322

Amelia could tell Clive was just waiting for her to mess up.

Her hand was stiff at her side, fingers tingling with nerves she couldn’t shake. Without thinking, she’d blurted out Ryan’s name. It wasn’t even that strange—if she racked her brain for someone who could put Clive in his place, Ryan was honestly the only one she could think of. There was no one else.

“Well? Call him. What’s wrong, getting cold feet?” Clive’s eyes glinted with sarcasm, like he could see right through her.

He stepped closer, hands deep in his pockets, voice icy and sharp. “Amelia, do you seriously believe you’re some kind of femme fatale?”

Since she was twelve, Amelia had revolved around him. Her first hand-hold, first hug, first kiss—even her first time—every single one of her milestones had been with Clive.

All these years, there hadn’t been another guy around her who was even worth Clive’s attention.

Or really, what guy would have even noticed her?

Sure, she was pretty, but she was the kind of quiet that just faded into the background. Whenever Clive brought her out with his friends, she’d just sit quietly in the corner, always watching him, always ready to do whatever he needed.

His plate was always piled with his favorite food, his shrimp already peeled.

No one ever talked to her.

Calling her an accessory was generous. She was more like air—completely invisible.

One time, when Amelia went to the bathroom, one of Clive’s drunk buddies leaned over, grinning like an idiot. “Clive, is she as boring in bed as she is at dinner? Aren’t you sick of her? I can hook you up with someone wild. No strings, man.”

“Get lost,” Clive laughed, giving him a shove under the table.

But later, the guy actually sent him a bunch of contacts.

That night, after sleeping with Amelia, Clive stepped out onto the balcony for a smoke. He pulled out his phone, picked a profile at random, and started chatting.

The girl was bold, sending him a handful of racy photos before midnight.

“Hey handsome, wanna meet up?”

He glanced back at Amelia, asleep and peaceful, her face soft in the moonlight. He watched her for a while, then leaned over and kissed her cheek.

And then he deleted all the messages.

A guy like him—he knew—could have women lining up even if he was married.

He honestly thought he’d done right by Amelia all these years.

The voice on the other end was low and rough. “Amelia, what did I tell you?”

She hesitated.

Then, maybe she was hearing things, but it sounded like footsteps—not from the phone, but from behind her.

Before she could turn around, she saw Clive’s eyes widen, his face going pale like he’d just seen a ghost.

Ryan’s voice, smooth and cool, mixed with the sound of those footsteps, growing closer.

“Didn’t I say, if someone gives you trouble, you should tell me?”

Amelia spun around and there he was—Ryan, in black from head to toe, walking toward her. The basement was cold and dim, but his presence was so intense it was like everything else disappeared and he was the only thing left.

She honestly hadn’t expected him to show up. For a second, she just stared, stunned, and only remembered to hang up when he stopped in front of her.

“Mr. Packman, what are you doing here?”

Ryan lifted his eyes, glancing coolly at Clive, who looked like he might be sick. He curled his lips into a lazy, dangerous smile and spoke, his voice low and impossibly smooth.