Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 297

“Stop!”

Everyone froze.

Julian’s brows knitted as he turned, spotting his father, Yale, striding down the hallway with his personal assistant close behind.

Yale didn’t look pleased. His eyes swept over Queenie, disheveled and restrained by the security guards, a flash of unmistakable disgust in his gaze.

A woman like her—manipulative, scandalous—was carrying the Locke family’s child.

But in the end, his attention landed on Queenie’s barely noticeable bump. Inside might be the first grandchild of the Locke family.

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

Julian’s voice stayed calm, but there was a trace of irritation at having his plans interrupted.

Yale didn’t answer him immediately. Instead, he gestured to the guards. “Let her go.”

Obediently, the guards released Queenie.

Her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor, quietly sobbing—humiliated, but inwardly exhaling in relief.

She’d gambled right.

Before coming to the hospital, she had secretly messaged Yale, knowing how much he, a traditional man desperate for a grandson, valued the family bloodline. She’d bet that the Lockes would never let an heir slip away.

Now Yale finally looked at Julian, his tone carrying the authority of the family patriarch.

“Julian, enough of this nonsense. There’s a limit. This child belongs to the Locke family. You don’t get to decide otherwise.”

He paused, reining in his temper, then delivered his verdict.

“Everything else can wait until after she has the baby.”

His words were cold and pragmatic, reducing Queenie to nothing more than a vessel. Yet to her, they sounded like a heavenly reprieve.

As long as she could have the child, she’d have a bargaining chip.

Julian’s forehead creased, his gaze toward his father dark and unreadable.

He hadn’t expected his father to intervene so suddenly—and with such finality.

Julian looked at Queenie, who was sobbing theatrically, as if she’d suffered a terrible injustice. All he felt for her was a chill, a deep sense of contempt.

He’d lost all affection for her long ago, and now this unexpected pregnancy felt like a carefully laid trap—one that filled him with nothing but irritation and a suffocating sense of being cornered.

He turned away from Queenie and addressed the head of security in a cold, clear voice. “Make arrangements. I want a trustworthy staff assigned to her. Hire a nurse as well. Take her back to the house out west.”

His tone was even, but brooked no argument. “She’s not to step outside the door without my permission.”

Silence settled again.

Yale watched his son’s cold, uncompromising profile. Instead of thinking Julian too ruthless, he felt a rare sense of pride.

Clapping Julian on the shoulder, Yale spoke with the calm assurance of experience. “Julian, this is exactly what I hoped for. A man can’t afford to be softhearted or distracted. That woman is trouble—she’d only drag you down, stain our family name. It’s right to draw a clear line and keep control.”

Julian gave a small nod, his expression inscrutable but his answer firm. “I understand, Dad. I was careless before, let myself be fooled.”

He paused, voice hardening with resolve. “Never again.”

His attention seemed fixed on an empty spot in the air, but his mind was elsewhere.

In that brief silence, the image of Gwyneth’s face—clear, stubborn, always full of unguarded concern for him—flashed into his mind, unbidden.

She was nothing like Queenie’s scheming and deceit. Gwyneth’s gaze was always open, every emotion for him to see.

He’d once believed that kind of purity was easy to have, even a little dull—until he lost it. Only in the chaos and betrayal Queenie brought did he realize what he’d thrown away.

Gwyneth.

This time, you won’t get away.

You’ll be mine, and only mine.