Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 100

“Bennett, are you ready? Today is—” Gwyneth’s voice cut off abruptly, the rest of her sentence—*the anniversary of my parents’ passing*—lodged painfully in her throat.

The hospital room was bright with midday light.

Bennett stood with his back to the door, pulling on a crisp black shirt. He’d just taken off his patient gown and hadn’t had time to button up yet. The broad, sculpted muscles of his back were on full display, his shoulder blades sharply defined and radiating strength.

But what really made Gwyneth’s mind go blank was that he seemed to be in the middle of putting on his dress pants, his body bent slightly at the waist.

That lean, taut waistline was exposed, impossible to ignore.

His abdominal muscles were chiseled, each one standing out like carved stone, the lines of his body tense with both power and grace as he leaned forward.

His healthy, sun-bronzed skin glowed in the sunlight, a sheen of warmth playing over him. The lines of his body disappeared beneath the waistband of his half-fastened black trousers, the hint of his V-cut dipping into shadow, leaving far too much to the imagination.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze.

Gwyneth could see, almost in slow motion, a single droplet of water tracing down the curve of his spine, disappearing below his waist.

The air was filled with the clean scent of soap mixed with a subtle trace of hospital antiseptic—an odd, intoxicating combination that made her chest tighten and her cheeks flare with sudden, uncontrollable heat. Even her ears felt on fire.

Bennett stilled as well.

He didn’t turn immediately, just angled his head so the sharp line of his jaw was visible.

The room was so quiet that Gwyneth could hear her own suddenly racing heartbeat and her ragged breath.

A few seconds of dead silence passed.

At last, Bennett straightened slowly and finished pulling up his trousers, fastening his belt with unhurried composure, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Only then did he finally turn to face her.

His black shirt hung open, revealing the full expanse of his sculpted chest and abs—more breathtaking now than that fleeting glimpse before.

His face betrayed no emotion, his dark eyes calm and unreadable as they met hers, the intensity of his gaze making Gwyneth want to bolt from the room.

“Mrs. Boyd, do you like what you see?” he asked, his tone casual. He began fastening his shirt, button by button, his long fingers moving with a deliberate, almost provocative restraint.

Gwyneth snapped back to herself, her cheeks burning even deeper. Embarrassment flooded her so fiercely she wanted to sink into the floor.

She instinctively tried to hide the bouquet behind her back, but realized that would only draw more attention. Forcing herself to look away, she fixed her gaze on the window behind him. “S-sorry. I thought you were dressed. Today… today is the anniversary of my parents’ passing, and I… If you’re able, I hoped you might…”

Gwyneth froze, staring up at him in disbelief. “You… you’ll come?” She’d fully expected him to refuse.

Bennett didn’t answer directly. Instead, he reached out and took the heavy bouquet from her hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

His fingers brushed lightly across the back of her hand, the cool contact making her flinch as if burned.

“Mrs. Boyd,” Bennett said quietly, his voice threaded with something she couldn’t name, his gaze lingering on the pink flush of her ears, “this is what a husband should do.”

Without waiting for her response, he turned, carrying the bouquet, and headed for the door.

His tall, straight back was blurred for a moment by the sunlight, yet there was a steadiness to his presence that left no room for doubt.

Gwyneth stood rooted to the spot, watching him leave with the lilies. Her heart squeezed, aching and full, tangled with longing for her parents, confusion about the man in front of her, and the lingering thrill from that accidental encounter.

She took a deep breath, forced down the surge of emotion, and hurried after him.

If her parents were still alive, she wondered, would they have liked him?