Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 210

No.

No way.

Absolutely impossible.

Everyone knew about Gwyneth’s fiancé Julian cheating on her—how could she possibly be tangled up with Bennett?

And Bennett had just turned her down this evening. There’s no way he’d suddenly be out on a date with Gwyneth.

It was ridiculous. Completely absurd.

Serena shook her head, doing her best to squash that dreadful idea.

It had to be a coincidence.

Gwyneth must just be somewhere nearby. Maybe she happened to park her car here.

There was a bar next door, wasn’t there?

She was probably inside, having a drink.

Yes, that must be it.

Unconvinced, Serena took a few steps back, trying to get a better look—hoping for some sign that Gwyneth had gone into one of the other storefronts.

She was still caught up in her frantic guessing and restless nerves when her phone suddenly rang, shattering the stillness of the quiet street. The unfamiliar number flashed on her screen, abrupt and jarring, yanking her out of her anxious snooping.

Serena frowned at the unknown caller. She hesitated, then answered, her tone prickly and impatient, her mind still lost in speculation.

“Hello? Who is this?”

Her voice was edged with irritation, barely masking her preoccupation.

There was a brief silence. Then a deep, slightly husky male voice came through, steady and calm, but carrying a pressure that was impossible to ignore.

“Is this Ms. Serena Fletcher?”

Serena froze. He’d called her by name?

Her guard shot up, but her tone stayed sharp. “Yes, this is. And you are?”

“This is Julian.”

Julian?

The name jolted through Serena’s mind like a faint electric shock. It took her a split second to connect the infamous name to the actual person.

Julian.

Gwyneth’s fiancé.

Bennett’s younger brother.

The notorious wolf in sheep’s clothing—charming smile, ruthless methods, motives impossible to read.

How did he get her number? And why was he suddenly calling her?

Serena’s frown deepened as a hundred questions crowded her mind, pushing aside all thoughts about who’d booked out the restaurant.

She straightened unconsciously, her voice losing its edge, growing cautious and searching.

“…Mr. Locke? Is there something you need?”

She genuinely couldn’t imagine what business she might have with Julian.

She thought she heard a low chuckle on the other end. It was barely audible, but sent a chill down her spine.

His voice came through the receiver again, warm with the easy familiarity of an old friend, yet carefully measured to keep her at arm’s length.

Inside the high-end French restaurant, gentle classical music drifted through the air, the lighting soft and intimate.

Gwyneth and Bennett sat across from each other, eating in silence.

Suddenly, Gwyneth’s phone, lying beside her plate, lit up and vibrated, breaking the hush.

She glanced down. It was Ziggy.

With a quick look at Bennett—who seemed absorbed in his meal—she picked up, lowering her voice.

“Hello?”

Ziggy’s crisp, efficient tone came through the line.

“Gwyneth, the agreement is ready. I’ve double-checked the terms and sent the electronic copy to your email.”

The agreement… finally done.

Gwyneth’s eyes flickered almost imperceptibly, and she instinctively glanced at Bennett across the table.

“Okay. Got it.”

Her tone was neutral, betraying nothing.

Just then, the head chef himself appeared, pushing a polished dessert trolley. He wore a warm, respectful smile.

On the cart sat an exquisite cream cake, topped with glossy red cherries and flecks of edible gold—utterly decadent.

The chef set the cake down in the center of the table, beaming as he addressed them in lightly accented English.

“Mr. Boyd, Mrs. Boyd, please enjoy. Mr. Boyd specially requested this for your three-month anniversary. And Mrs. Boyd, I was told this is your favorite—cherry cream cake. I hope you like it.”

Three months… anniversary?