Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 304

The photos on the screen exploded into her vision without warning.

There she was—caught with Winston, that lecherous old man—in the bar, in the hotel, even tangled up together in bed. Each image was like a poisoned dagger, slicing through every one of her lies and shattering her carefully constructed façade.

Queenie’s pupils dilated so much they seemed to swallow her eyes, her face draining of color in the blink of an eye—leaving her even paler than when she’d been slapped across the face just moments ago.

“No… no, it can’t be!”

Her scream tore through the room, shrill and grating, warped by terror and disbelief.

“This… this is fake! It’s photoshopped! Someone’s framing me! Julian, you have to believe me—this is all a setup!”

She whipped her head up, clutching at Julian as if he were her last lifeline. Her eyes, wide and frantic, pleaded desperately for mercy, while her trembling voice tried hopelessly to cover the truth with denial.

“Julian, please, don’t listen to them—it’s all a trap! They’re trying to ruin me!”

It had to be that witch Gwyneth. Who else could be so cruel? This was all her doing. She was the one behind this.

But Julian only looked down at her from above, his gaze colder than ice, his disgust so palpable it threatened to freeze her where she knelt.

He studied Queenie’s face, now twisted by fear and panic, and listened as she stumbled through her pitiful excuses. A dark, mirthless laugh rumbled from his throat—low and bitter.

That laugh dripped with scorn, and it was impossible to tell whether he was mocking Queenie’s pathetic desperation, or himself for ever being blind enough to believe her.

“Framing you?”

There was everything: her messages reaching out to Winston, security stills of her slipping into his regular hotel again and again—including on days she’d claimed to be sick at home—and records of several large transfers of cash from Winston to her personal account.

Every line of text, every image, was like a hammer blow, smashing what was left of her hope.

“No… it’s not what you think! Julian, please, listen to me!”

She flung the papers away as if they’d burned her, tears streaming down her face as she crawled forward, trying to clutch desperately at Julian’s trouser leg. Panic had twisted her voice into something unrecognizable.

“I had no choice! He forced me! He’s got something on me! I was trapped! I swear, Julian, you’re the only one I love! Please, for the sake of the baby, forgive me just this once—don’t leave me! I can’t live without you…”

Her words tumbled out in a frantic, incoherent rush. She clung to her tears and pleas for dear life, throwing every ounce of blame away from herself, desperate to wring the smallest drop of pity from a man who was already lost to her.