Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 103

He broke into a run, his footsteps pounding over the slick flagstones as rain lashed down, soaking his hair and expensive suit. He barely noticed—the only thing in his mind was a wild, desperate urge: Find her. Demand answers.

When he finally reached that familiar section of the graveyard, his eyes darted frantically across the headstones, bracing for the sight he dreaded most—a pair, together.

But there was only Gwyneth.

She stood alone before the cold gray marker, dressed in a somber black dress. Her long hair, damp with rain, clung to her pale cheeks. She held no umbrella; a fine mist of rain beaded on her fragile shoulders, making her look like some wind-beaten black orchid—graceful and hauntingly sad, utterly alone.

Julian’s hurried steps faltered, his chest heaving. For a moment, he felt lost.

Where was the other man?

His gaze swept the area and landed on something beside the headstone—a sleek, expensive-looking black umbrella, propped up and left open.

That umbrella...

It wasn’t Gwyneth’s style.

It sat there like some silent, damning proof, screaming out the presence of another man.

Had he just left? Was he still nearby?

Just then, Gwyneth, lost in her grief, seemed to sense his presence. She stiffened almost imperceptibly at the sound of his footsteps.

“Gwyneth.” Julian forced down the storm inside him, trying to keep his voice steady, though a tension crept in—the kind he couldn’t quite hide, tinged with a hope he barely admitted to himself.

The moment he spoke, he saw her shoulders tense defensively.

Something icy and furious flickered in Gwyneth’s eyes—shock and loathing.

What is he doing here? How dare he show up?

But the expression vanished, replaced by the blank sorrow she wore before.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until Julian felt he might explode—when suddenly, a shrill ringtone shattered the quiet of the graveyard.

Julian’s phone.

He scowled, ready to silence it, but when he glanced down and saw Queenie’s name flashing on the screen, his hand paused.

He glanced back at Gwyneth, who showed no reaction, her face a pale mask. With a sigh of annoyance—and something like guilt—he turned away, stepping a few paces off to answer.

“Yeah?” he said, keeping his voice low, trying to end the call as quickly as possible.

On the other end, Queenie’s voice was sugary and breathless with excitement. “Julian, where are you? Why aren’t you home yet? Come back already—I have amazing news to tell you!”

She was practically bubbling over.

Julian, still burning with the anger Gwyneth had stirred in him, answered curtly, his tone clipped and impatient. “I know. I’m on my way. I’ll be back soon.”