Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 303

Her fingertip glided lightly across the phone screen, pulling up the original photos she’d sent anonymously to the auction staff.

Queenie.

Always skulking in the shadows, like a rat—did she ever think a day would come when someone would finally expose her?

Gwyneth stared at the images, her heart as still as a frozen lake. The whole world knew what kind of person Queenie was; the only one still in the dark was Julian himself.

Apparently, Queenie had made more enemies than just her.

Whoever sent these pictures clearly hated her guts.

She had it coming. Some people just dig their own graves.

Julian’s car tore down the road, the fury boiling in his chest threatening to consume him whole.

Those degrading photos. The glaring timestamp on every shot. The mixture of pity and scorn in the eyes of everyone around him. The torrent of sneering, mocking comments flooding the internet…

Each one felt like a blade, slashing his dignity to ribbons.

BANG!

He kicked the front door open so hard the echo thundered through the cavernous living room.

Inside, Queenie lounged lazily on an expensive leather couch, watching TV. A crystal platter of fruit—peeled, sliced, and arranged to perfection by the housekeeper—sat within easy reach.

She turned at the commotion, surprise flickering across her face. The moment she saw Julian, she broke into a syrupy smile, as if she hadn’t noticed the murderous rage radiating from him.

She set down her dessert fork, rose, and hurried toward him with open arms, her voice sweet and plaintive:

“Julian! You finally came to see me and the baby! I knew you wouldn’t just abandon us—”

She never finished the sentence.

CRACK!

“My child?”

He repeated the words, his voice low and raw, every syllable laced with poison.

He yanked out his phone, hand shaking with barely contained wrath. He didn’t even have to search—the headlines were everywhere, those photos branding his disgrace for the world to see.

He thrust the phone screen in Queenie’s face, then hurled it at her with all his strength.

“Ah!”

The phone’s hard corner slammed into her abdomen. Queenie cried out, clutching her stomach as a sharp pain twisted through her.

But terror—pure, overwhelming—dwarfed her physical pain. She barely noticed her belly, grabbing frantically for the phone that had fallen beside her.

Her pupils blew wide, color draining from her face until she looked even paler than after the slap.

Impossible. This couldn’t be happening.