Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 157

A wild mix of disbelief, shock, disdain—and a sharp, jealous anger she barely recognized—rushed straight to Gwyneth’s head.

Was this really happening? The absurdity of it all nearly made her laugh out loud.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, afraid she might blurt something inappropriate, or worse, burst out laughing. But she couldn’t stop the tremor running through her body as she struggled to hold it in.

Just listen to that shameless drivel.

Let’s see how you handle this, Bennett.

But wait—was that incident on the security footage last time also because Queenie tried to seduce Bennett and ended up with a broken leg?

A brief silence settled over the office.

At last, Bennett looked up.

His gaze was as cold and cutting as twin searchlights, fixed directly on Queenie.

There wasn’t the slightest hint of temptation in his eyes—just a chilling, superior disdain, as if he were looking at something filthy and repulsive, and he made no effort to hide his icy contempt.

Queenie shifted uncomfortably under his stare, her forced smile threatening to collapse.

Bennett’s lips curled, agonizingly slow, into a frosty half-smile—utterly devoid of warmth, brimming instead with scorn.

He didn’t bother to answer Queenie’s invitation. Instead, he reached for the phone on his desk, moving with deliberate calm.

Queenie’s confusion and anxiety grew as she watched his elegant fingers press a few buttons.

The line rang just twice before someone picked up.

Bennett spoke into the receiver, his voice crisp and steady, each word falling with absolute authority—like ice chips pelting Queenie’s heart:

“This is Bennett. Send someone up right away—escort any unauthorized visitors out.”

His command, cold and final, landed on Queenie like the last nail in a coffin.

A wave of humiliation and panic sent all the blood rushing to her face; pale at first, then flushed with the threat of tears and fury.

She stared as Bennett picked up his paperwork again, resuming his work as if she were already gone. That total indifference stung far worse than any insult.

“You…!” Queenie’s voice cracked, as if she’d just been slapped.

The color drained from her face, leaving her looking twisted with disbelief and hatred.

He actually called security?

What did he take her for?

Bennett finally set the phone down, his gaze now truly meeting hers—cold, unyielding, and laced with contempt.

He didn’t say a word, but the pressure in his stare was more crushing than any verbal threat.

Queenie felt a chill seep into her bones, her last shred of confidence crumbling.

“Gwyneth.”

“How much longer do you plan on staying in there?”

“Or would you prefer I come in and ‘invite’ you out myself?”

He drew out the word “invite” with an edge of dry amusement and unspoken warning.

Inside the bathroom, Gwyneth had long since stopped silently cursing and was holding her breath, listening to every sound outside.

God, was it possible for a man to be this attractive?

And finally, someone put Queenie in her place—about time! That woman flirted with anyone, never mind whose husband he was.

Gwyneth, snap out of it! She had to remind herself—three times, just to be sure—this was a marriage in name only.

At Bennett’s “invitation,” she shook off her pointless thoughts, drew a steadying breath, smoothed her hair and straightened her clothes, then unlocked the door and stepped out.

The air outside was already noticeably fresher; Queenie’s cloying perfume had faded.

Gwyneth’s eyes swept quickly around the office, confirming Queenie was really gone and only Bennett remained.

She approached the desk, keeping a careful, professional distance. Though she tried to keep her expression neutral, the complicated emotions flickering in her eyes betrayed her.

Clearing her throat, she glanced at Bennett, who was already buried in his paperwork. When she spoke, her tone was all polite admiration—at least on the surface—but there was an unmistakable hint of something sharper just beneath.