Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 134

Did he love her—or was it the Fletcher family fortune he truly wanted? Or maybe he’d only loved the docile, accommodating version of her from before?

As Julian’s syrupy confession dripped with insincerity, Gwyneth almost couldn’t keep the disgust from showing on her face.

She forced herself to swallow the nausea and looked up, her striking eyes glistening as if with tears. Fixing her gaze on Julian, she let her voice tremble, wounded and unsure:

“Is that so?”

Julian’s heart leapt. He thought she was finally moved, ready for him to close the distance between them.

But in the very next instant, the look of hurt vanished from Gwyneth’s face, replaced so swiftly it was like a mask falling away. Cold, biting sarcasm and undisguised contempt took its place.

Her lips parted, and she enunciated three words, clear and sharp as a judge’s gavel:

“I don’t believe you.”

Before the words finished hanging in the air, she yanked her wrist free from Julian’s grip and turned on her heel without a second’s hesitation.

The movement was crisp and final, showing not the slightest hint of regret.

Her sudden, 180-degree shift hit Julian like a slap—loud, humiliating, leaving his carefully cultivated air of tenderness and control in tatters.

His face cycled through a kaleidoscope of emotion: from passionate sincerity, to stunned confusion, to humiliated rage.

He was left reeling. Just a moment ago, Gwyneth had looked so wronged, so willing to compromise. How had she turned so cold, so utterly resolute in the blink of an eye?

“Gwyneth! Stop right there!” Julian barked, his voice rough with anger and panic.

But Gwyneth didn’t slow, didn’t even look back.

Desperate, Julian lunged forward and seized her wrist again, his grip tight and furious, the anger of being defied burning in his eyes.

“Have you caused enough of a scene? My father’s made it clear: next month, we’re getting married. You—no one else—are going to be my wife. So how much longer are you planning to keep this up?”

Married?

Gwyneth’s lips curled into a cold, private smile.

So, the Lockes were getting impatient again. Ready to use marriage as a shackle, to chain her—and the entire Fletcher legacy—firmly to the wheels of the Locke family machine?

She stopped, finally turning to face him.

Looking at Julian’s face, twisted with anger and desperation, her gaze was disturbingly calm, as if she were looking at a stranger. Or worse, at something repulsive.

Without a word, she used her free hand and, finger by finger, slowly and forcefully pried Julian’s hand from her wrist.

But her wrist still throbbed from his grip, and the nausea in her stomach refused to subside.

She needed to breathe—needed a lungful of air that didn’t reek of power games and manipulation.

With a decisive snap, she closed her laptop and stood, ignoring the speculative, wary glances from her colleagues as she strode straight to Elodie’s office.

She knocked. Elodie’s voice rang out, energetic as ever: “Come in!”

Pushing open the door, Gwyneth saw Elodie hunched over a mountain of files, a pencil clamped between her teeth.

The moment she spotted Gwyneth, Elodie tossed the pencil aside and her eyes lit up with irrepressible gossip. She sprang from her chair, crossed the room in three quick steps, and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, her face alive with gleeful anticipation:

“Well, well! If it isn’t our leading lady fresh off her big ‘breakup’ scene in the boss’s office!” Elodie waggled her brows, radiating “spill the details!” energy. “Come on, tell me—what did your ex want this time? Another round of dramatic, heartfelt groveling?”

Her tone was light and teasing, but her eyes were full of protective scorn.

Gwyneth rolled her eyes, shut the door behind her, and slumped onto the little couch in Elodie’s office, exhaustion and irritation etched into every line of her face. She rubbed her sore wrist and muttered wearily, “Don’t even ask. The only good ex is a dead ex.”

Right then, her phone rang—its sharp tone slicing through the air.

She glanced at the screen. Incoming call: Bennett.