Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 227

Gwyneth looked at him, her voice threaded with a subtle relief.

“Julian found my address. He’s drunk and on his way here…”

Bennett’s eyes turned icy cold. A dangerous edge flickered deep in their depths.

“It’s alright. Let him come. He doesn’t know I own this place.”

He gave Gwyneth a reassuring look, pausing as his gaze settled on her pale face. His tone softened.

“Try to get some sleep. I’ll handle everything.”

But Gwyneth just shook her head after a moment’s silence, a weary but resolute light in her eyes.

“No.”

She threw off the light blanket draped over her legs and rose to her feet.

“I’ll deal with him myself. Some things—there’s no running away. They need to be said.”

Bennett didn’t try to stop her. He simply watched, quiet and steady.

Gwyneth grabbed her still-ringing phone, fingers clenched so tightly they blanched. She drew a deep breath and answered the call.

Julian’s voice spilled through the phone, familiar yet suddenly strange, edged with a panic he tried to hide.

“You finally picked up, Gwyneth. Why aren’t you staying at Elodie’s anymore? When did you get a place of your own?”

Gwyneth closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were flat and cold as glass.

She had no patience for his games. She cut him off, her voice sharp as frost.

“Where are you?”

Julian seemed thrown by her bluntness, but managed to say an address.

“I’ll send you the location,” Gwyneth replied, each word crisp and controlled.

“This time, don’t be late.”

She hung up before he could answer, found his number, and sent her address with a single, decisive tap.

Every movement was final, like she was severing every last tie.

Bennett knew that unyielding pride in her bones. Once Gwyneth decided, no one could change her mind.

At last, he spoke, his voice lower than before.

“If anything happens, call me. Anytime.”

Gwyneth nodded and walked straight to the door, not looking back.

Bennett remained where he was, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the door long after it had closed.

———

Nocturne Spirits. Private lounge.

Gwyneth arrived on time.

A sharp pain suddenly stabbed through his stomach. He pressed a hand to his abdomen, cold sweat beading on his brow.

Same old problem.

Every time this happened before, it was always her—taking care of him, worried and gentle. He even remembered one night, coming home drunk with friends. She’d tried to stop him, he’d snapped at her, told her to mind her own business. Later, when the pain hit, she was the one who stayed up, tending to him all night…

Back then, her eyes were full of worry and love.

Now, all he saw in her was indifference.

She really was different now.

That realization made the pain in his gut twist even harder.

Gwyneth noticed the sudden pallor on his face, the hand clutching his stomach. A fleeting, invisible satisfaction crossed her eyes.

She didn’t bother to ask if he was alright—her voice was steady, cold, leaving no room for argument.

“Don’t come looking for me again. We’re done, Julian.”

That word—“done”—landed like a knife. Julian forgot his pain, barely believing what he’d heard. He looked up, teeth clenched, voice raw.

“Gwyneth! Do you even know what you’re saying?!”

“I do.”

Gwyneth met his furious, stunned gaze without a hint of fear. Instead, a mocking smile played at her lips.