Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 129

She drew in a deep breath and looked up, eyes locking straight into Bennett’s—dark and fathomless. There was a flicker of curiosity in her gaze, and—though she didn’t even notice it herself—a strange kind of awkward concern. Still, she kept her tone as even as possible.

“It’s nothing. I’m just… curious how you can stay so calm about all this.”

She paused, as if weighing her words, but ultimately went for the most direct—and probably most dangerous—approach.

“That woman you’re into just cheated on you in the biggest way possible, and yet you’re sitting here like nothing happened?”

She watched Bennett closely, searching his face for even the tiniest change in expression.

For a moment, Bennett clearly froze.

Those usually still, deep eyes of his clouded with confusion—genuine, almost incredulous.

He tilted his head slightly and frowned, as if trying to digest something completely bizarre and illogical.

“What are you talking about?” His voice was tinged with authentic bewilderment. “What woman I’m into?”

Gwyneth was thrown by his reaction. Was he playing dumb? He couldn’t possibly be. Had the whole thing rattled him so much he’d gone selectively amnesiac?

She pressed her lips together and decided to lay it out even more plainly.

“I mean Desiree!” Her tone was full of disbelief, as if to say, “Come on, quit pretending.”

“She’s your girlfriend, right? Julian always calls her ‘sis-in-law.’ You’re Julian’s older brother, so that makes her—”

She didn’t even finish the sentence before she saw Bennett’s confusion morph into realization, and then shift into an expression so layered it was almost impossible to read.

There was exasperation, disbelief, and—somewhere in there—a hint of being deeply offended.

The room seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

Bennett stared at the woman in front of him, who looked so certain, as if she were stating the most obvious fact in the world. He felt a pulse of irritation throb at his temple.

He raised a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly looking very tired. When he spoke again, his voice was low, edged with a kind of grim patience.

“Gwyneth.” He used her full name, each syllable weighed and deliberate, almost as if he were gritting his teeth. “I suggest you go read up on the Civil Code.”

Gwyneth: “...?”

What on earth did the Civil Code have to do with any of this?

Bennett drew in a breath, as if struggling to keep something in check, and enunciated his words with deliberate clarity:

“In our country, bigamy is illegal. Period.”

Once the picture of grace and prestige, Damian and Eleanor now sat shrunken and defeated beside a hollow-eyed, devastated Desiree in the cavernous, freezing living room.

Eleanor’s sobs came in ragged waves, the sound of someone pushed past the brink of hysteria and into the depths of despair.

“My daughter—my poor, sweet girl! How could she end up like this? Yale, you have to help us! It was Gwyneth—I know it! She must have set Desiree up out of jealousy—she hates our family!”

Damian Sutton’s face was ashen, as if he’d aged ten years overnight. He was struggling to maintain some shred of dignity, but his voice was shaking, bitter and filled with venom. “Yale, our families have been close for decades. Desiree has always been devoted to your eldest son. Now our world is falling apart—she’s been dragged through the mud, our company is ruined. If Gwyneth isn’t behind this, I’ll eat my own hat. She’s supposed to be your future daughter-in-law, Julian’s fiancée. The Locke family owes us an explanation!”

He stressed each word—“future daughter-in-law” and “fiancée”—as if by sheer force he could tie the Locke family to his own.

Yale sat at the head of the room, expensive mahogany armrests beneath his restless fingers. His well-kept features betrayed little, but his brow was furrowed in frustration.

Eleanor’s wailing grated on his nerves, Damian’s accusations felt like a demand for him to pick a side.

But deep down, Yale saw things for what they were:

The Sutton family was finished.

Desiree’s scandal had hit like a bomb. Sutton Group’s stock had crashed, creditors were pounding on their doors. Bankruptcy was inevitable—it was just a matter of time.

All that talk of “decades of friendship”? In the face of disaster and overwhelming loss, it was as fragile as glass.