Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 267

A wild, reckless defiance surged up inside Queenie, pushing aside every last trace of sorrow and hesitation. For the first time that day, she felt something like resolve.

She drew in a steadying breath, forced her shoulders back, and raised her hand to knock—hard—on the door that stood like a barrier between her and everything she wanted. It was a door that reeked of power and cold indifference.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sharp sound echoed down the empty corridor, ringing with desperation and the sense that this was her last shot.

No answer came from inside.

Queenie bit down on her lip, then called out, her voice edged with bitter sarcasm and the icy calm of someone with nothing left to lose. “Julian, how long are you planning to keep hiding from me?”

Inside, Julian looked up, catching sight of Queenie’s stormy face through the glass panel. A flicker of irritation passed over his features before he pushed it down, masking it with a kind of weary detachment.

He set down his pen, leaned back in his oversized leather chair, and said flatly, “What are you doing here?”

Queenie strode in, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor—each step ringing out in the too-quiet office, grating on both Julian’s nerves and the last threads of his patience.

“Why am I here?” she shot back, coming right up to his desk. She planted her hands on the polished surface and leaned in, fixing him with a trembling, tear-bright stare. “What do you think? You won’t answer your phone, you ignore my texts—is this it? Are you just done with me? Are you sick of me already?”

Her voice rose with each word, until it all but cracked. “Did you forget everything you promised me? You said you’d love me forever, that we’d get married! Was that all just empty talk?”

Julian winced, her shrillness slicing through his headache. He looked away, grabbing a file from the desk and pretending to study it, his tone dismissive. “I’m busy. The company’s a mess. Whatever this is, let’s talk about it later.”

That cold indifference was the last straw. Queenie’s pent-up fury exploded.

“Later? That’s what you always say!”

With a scream, she snatched the papers from his hands and threw them into the air. Pages fluttered down like a blizzard, covering the thick, expensive carpet.

Julian gazed down at her—broken, desperate, begging. His chest tightened with a swirl of emotions.

This was his own doing, wasn’t it? He was the one who’d chosen this path, who’d abandoned Gwyneth for someone like Queenie. And now, here he was, isolated and cornered, with no one left to blame but himself.

How ironic.

A wave of exhaustion swept over him. He closed his eyes for a moment and, when he opened them again, there was nothing left but fatigue and a resigned sense of defeat.

He reached down and, not exactly gently, pulled Queenie up off the floor. His voice was rough with frustration. “Pull yourself together. Enough of this.”

He tried to make her see reality. “I just took over Locke Group. The whole place is a disaster. Bennett’s circling like a vulture. I’m barely holding things together. Could you, for once, not make things harder than they already are?”

He finished, feeling as if he’d scraped the last bit of patience from his soul. If Queenie kept pushing, he honestly didn’t know what he’d do.