Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 176

Gwyneth froze mid-motion as her phone lit up on the edge of the table. The caller’s name flashed like the world’s most revolting green fly, instantly driving away every trace of warmth and leaving only a chill of irritation behind.

Julian.

Like a ghost that just wouldn’t leave her alone.

A cold, bitter smile flickered across Gwyneth’s lips.

After the collapse of Cloudview Resort and billions up in smoke, shouldn’t he be hiding away with his pretty little songbird, licking his wounds? Why was he suddenly thinking of her—the secretary he’d tossed aside like yesterday’s trash?

Suppressing a wave of nausea, Gwyneth forced an apologetic smile for Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, then picked up her phone and walked briskly to the far corner of the garden, beneath the silent old pomegranate tree, before answering.

“Hello.” Her voice came through the receiver as cold and sharp as a blade of ice.

“Gwyneth?” Julian’s voice, on the other end, was deliberately soft, laced with a forced rasp and a cloying hint of faux affection.

“It’s me.”

Gwyneth’s knuckles whitened around the phone. She didn’t respond.

Just hearing his voice made her skin crawl.

“Are you free to meet tonight?”

Julian pressed on, his tone strained with a false sense of familiarity and a barely masked urgency.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

He leaned into the word “talk,” drawing it out so it sounded both suggestive and faintly threatening.

Talk?

Gwyneth’s cold gaze swept across the dinner table.

Bennett looked perfectly at ease, conversing with Mr. Harrison in fluent sign language, completely immersed in their silent world. But Gwyneth had noticed the way, the moment she’d answered her phone, his eyes had flickered toward her—just for a split second.

“Fine.”

No hesitation. Her reply was crisp, almost mechanical, and carried not a shred of warmth.

Julian paused, clearly thrown. The icy calm in her voice was a jarring contrast to the eager, accommodating woman he remembered.

He didn’t dwell on it, assuming she was just sulking.

“That’s great! Gwyneth, I knew you—”

Julian tried to push a few more insincere words out, but Gwyneth cut him off, her tone steely:

“The address.”

No room for argument.

“Do you have plans?”

Gwyneth’s phone felt lifeless and cold in her hands. She didn’t look at him, just stared out at the streaks of neon racing past, her voice utterly calm, betraying nothing.

“Just something minor.”

She paused, then gave him the name that still tasted bitter on her tongue:

“Could you drop me at Skyward Taste?”

Bennett didn’t open his eyes. Only the faintest flicker crossed his face, as if a slight breeze had rippled a perfectly still lake.

He didn’t pry. He simply issued a quiet, authoritative command to the driver.

“To Skyward Taste.”

The driver answered with steady composure, turning the wheel and merging smoothly into a new lane.

Gwyneth kept her gaze on the passing lights, masking the turmoil beneath her calm exterior.

The car sped towards Skyward Taste.

Gwyneth could feel the pressure radiating off Bennett beside her, heavier now than it had been in the warmth of the garden. His eyes remained closed, but she knew he was more clear-headed and alert than ever.