Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 296

Julian’s office was steeped in a crisp, woody fragrance, cold and sharp as his gaze at that moment.

He looked up, eyes landing on Queenie with a detached indifference, as if she were just another stranger passing through his life.

“Queenie, don’t you think you’ve had a little too much free time lately?”

His voice was level, but there was a simmering anger he couldn’t quite hide.

He was done—he’d lost all patience with her.

Queenie stood before his polished mahogany desk, a mocking smile curling her red lips.

She didn’t answer his accusation. Instead, she flung the folded medical report in her hand onto his immaculate desk. The paper scraped harshly against the wood, slicing through the silence.

“Julian, don’t kid yourself. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Her words were sharp, her tone unwavering.

“I’m pregnant.”

Julian let his eyes drift lazily over the report, then—without a hint of hesitation—picked it up and tossed it straight into the trash beside his desk.

“And what makes you think I’d believe you this time?” His voice was icy, stripped of all emotion. “Which clinic made up this one? Or did you forge it yourself?”

It was clear Queenie had anticipated this response. She drew a slow breath, bracing herself with both hands on the desk, leaning in to meet his gaze head-on.

Her anger was barely contained. “If you don’t believe me, fine. Take me yourself. Have a real doctor check. Go ahead, see for yourself if I’m lying!”

For a split second, Julian’s mask of nonchalance slipped.

He hadn’t expected that.

He thought back—he’d barely touched Queenie these past months, and every time, he’d been careful. How could this be? Unless… that one night, after too much whiskey?

Queenie saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. She knew she’d struck a nerve.

Her stance softened. She straightened up, walked calmly over to the leather sofa, and sat down.

“Julian, I know I made mistakes before.” Her voice trembled, suddenly fragile. “But the baby is innocent. This would be the Locke family’s first grandchild.”

Julian didn’t bother hiding his disgust. He stood, grabbing his suit jacket, face a mask of cold indifference.

“Let’s go.”

Queenie’s eyes flashed with triumph, but it was quickly replaced by uncertainty. “Where?”

“You want to prove it, don’t you?” Julian’s tone cut like a knife. “We’re going to the hospital. I’ll supervise the test myself.”

—

Queenie’s triumphant mask shattered. She stared at him, utterly stunned.

Her pupils shrank. For the first time, she saw the man before her for who he truly was.

“Julian! Are you insane? That’s our baby!” Her voice cracked, raw with fear and fury. “You said you loved me—how can you do this? No! You can’t!”

She lunged at him, but two men in black suits materialized at her sides, pinning her arms before she could even reach him.

Julian adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes icy and unreadable behind the lenses. Without sparing her another glance, he turned to the doctor, who hesitated, conflicted.

“Prepare the procedure,” Julian commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

The doctor wiped sweat from his brow, faltering. “Mr. Locke, she’s less than nine weeks along. It’s possible, but—Queenie’s emotional state—”

He tried to reason, searching for any hint of mercy.

“Don’t concern yourself with that,” Julian cut him off, voice flat. “Just do as I say.”

The guards dragged Queenie toward the operating room. She thrashed and fought, her designer suit rumpled, hair plastered to her tear-streaked face. In that moment, every shred of calculation and dignity she’d clung to unraveled.

She caught one last glimpse of Julian’s cold profile. A chill swept through her entire body. This man—the one she’d tried so desperately to bind to her—was merciless.

Just as the door to the operating room swung open, a commanding, urgent voice echoed down the hallway—