Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 198

She strode in on slender heels, the sharp tap of her shoes echoing through the unnaturally quiet room, slicing through the silence with almost jarring clarity.

In an instant, every eye turned away from Gwyneth, shifting to the uninvited newcomer.

Gwyneth’s fingers, splayed across the table, tightened imperceptibly, her knuckles turning the faintest shade of white.

Her gaze, cold and razor-sharp, zeroed in on the woman’s perfectly made-up face.

If Gwyneth was right, this had to be Serena.

Her oh-so-lovely cousin.

The same Serena who’d barely set foot back in the country before being dropped into the marketing department—whom Stephen had already described as “a real piece of work.”

Serena seemed completely oblivious to the tension in the air and Gwyneth’s icy stare. She walked straight to the long conference table, eyes sweeping across the room. With a tone of syrupy entitlement, she looked straight at Gwyneth, who sat at the head of the table:

“Hi, dearest cousin! Or should I say—Chairwoman now?”

She tilted her head, a sweet smile playing on her lips, though her eyes were openly curious and just a little bit provocative.

“I just started today, got a bit lost on my way up. Nearly made me late—hope you don’t mind?”

Her accent, thick and theatrical as if she’d just flown in from some sun-soaked resort, sounded absurdly out of place in the solemn boardroom. It was all so obviously for show.

You could hear a pin drop.

The executives exchanged glances, each face telling a different story.

Some frowned in irritation. Others looked entertained, waiting for the fireworks. A few seemed genuinely anxious for Serena.

Everyone here knew Gwyneth had zero patience for people who broke the rules or challenged authority.

And right out of the gate, the Fletcher family’s second daughter had landed squarely on a landmine.

Gwyneth rose slowly, her face as unreadable as ever, as if she hadn’t just been interrupted.

She didn’t even bother to look at Serena. Her eyes calmly swept the room, her voice clear and commanding, instantly drowning out Serena’s affected bravado:

“The meeting is now in session.”

She ignored Serena’s existence—and her little “hope you don’t mind”—as if Serena were no more than a speck of dust floating in the air.

Serena’s smile faltered, a shadow flickering in her eyes.

She hadn’t expected Gwyneth to dismiss her so completely, not even sparing a glance.

It stung far worse than any scolding or warning.

Gwyneth gave her no chance for theatrics, cutting straight to business.

When it was time for the marketing department to present their key luxury brand campaign for the coming half-year, Gwyneth fixed her gaze on the department head:

“Mr. Wallace, let’s hear your proposal.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mr. Wallace, a veteran of the marketing world, still looked unusually nervous as he stood and switched on the projector.

Slides filled the screen, sleek and polished.

The campaign was innovative and bold, with meticulous data, striking visuals, and a seamless blend of local insight and global trends.

The report was clear, well-structured, and full of highlights. Even the most critical executives couldn’t help nodding in approval, their eyes lighting up with genuine appreciation.

The mood in the room grew unexpectedly energetic, buoyed by the quality of the proposal.

Gwyneth sat at the head of the table, quietly impressed.

The caliber of this campaign far surpassed the marketing department’s usual standard—broad in vision, clear in execution, with an uncanny grasp of Fletcher Group’s future direction.

Exceptionally well done.

But…