Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 306

Julian’s words hit like a poisoned dagger, striking with chilling precision at the rawest, most secret wound in Yale’s heart.

Yale’s eyes flew open wide; all color drained from his face, then just as suddenly, a furious flush surged back. The veins at his temples bulged, his breath caught in his throat, and he doubled over in a violent coughing fit. His hand shook as he pointed a trembling finger at Julian.

“You—you ungrateful son! Do you have any idea what kind of nonsense you’re spouting?!”

But Julian seemed beyond caring. He didn’t spare a glance for his father’s shattered composure. Instead, he strolled over to the sofa and dropped down with a posture that bordered on defiant nonchalance—a man with nothing left to lose. His voice was cold, almost clinical, the words cutting deeper for their calmness.

“Am I wrong?”

He looked up, his eyes icy, pinning his father in place.

“You neglected Mom—the woman who stood by your side for decades—just for the sake of someone you could never have. Isn’t that the truth? Pathetic, isn’t it…”

A low, bitter laugh escaped him, laced with both sorrow and scorn.

“You and I, Father—we’re two of a kind. Who’s really any better than the other?”

Upstairs, hidden in the shadows of the hallway, Gwyneth listened in. She’d just returned from the auction with Bennett, arriving home minutes earlier, and now she caught every word of the explosive confrontation unfolding below.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, her wide, beautiful eyes brimming with shock—and, try as she might, a flicker of barely restrained fascination. The secrets tumbling out tonight were almost too much to process.

Behind her, Bennett leaned lazily against the banister, watching the drama downstairs with an indifferent gaze. But the moment Julian spat out the accusation about “lusting after another man’s wife,” Bennett’s hand, which rested around Gwyneth’s arm, tightened almost imperceptibly. His usually inscrutable eyes flashed with something dark and deeply conflicted.

Meanwhile, Yale tasted the metallic tang of blood as nausea rose to his throat. His vision dimmed at the edges, and his hand—still pointing at Julian—shook so violently he couldn’t get out a single word.

“You…! You…”

His breathing came in short, ragged bursts. He swayed on his feet and finally collapsed back onto the sofa, utterly spent. His face was ashen; in a heartbeat, he seemed to have aged years, every ounce of vitality drained away.

Julian gazed down at his father, a flicker of emotion crossing his face—gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a cold resolve.

He stepped forward, looming over the man who’d always towered over him, and spoke with quiet authority that brooked no argument.

“Father, you’re old. It’s time to step down—get some rest.”

He paused, his eyes sweeping the grand, antiquated living room, thick with the scent of old money and outdated power. There was a subtle edge to his words as he added,

“After all, Mom’s still waiting for you.”

That final, seemingly gentle remark—so much more a taunt than a reminder—broke Yale completely.

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