Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 66

The other executives quickly chimed in, eager to pin all the blame on “errors in execution by subordinates” and “unforeseen accidents.”

“You didn’t mean to hurt anyone?”

Gwyneth finally spoke. Her voice was as biting and cold as a Siberian wind.

Slowly, she lifted her head. For the first time, those hollow eyes sharpened, locking onto Mr. Wallace. The icy fury swirling behind them made him fall instantly silent.

“So the man who rushed at me with a knife was just another ‘accident’?”

Mr. Wallace shuddered, his face draining of color until he looked like a ghost. He stammered, “That guy—he really wasn’t our plant. We looked into it. His name is Perry, just a street thug with a record. He’s got terminal lung cancer. He, uh, he took someone else’s money, but he refuses to say who hired him. The police couldn’t break him either. We genuinely don’t know anything more!”

Terminal cancer…

Refusing to say a word…

Gwyneth’s hand, resting on her knee, clenched so hard her knuckles cracked. “And this ‘Willa’—who brought her into the picture?”

It felt as if some invisible force was strangling Mr. Wallace. He stammered, “Someone used Willa’s name to email me, said she’d been plagiarized and wanted me to take revenge for her. How was I supposed to know it was a setup?”

He darted to his computer and opened his inbox, adding, “I kept the email. You can see for yourselves!”

The email looked flawless, sent from a foreign IP address. Gwyneth took the laptop, her fingers flying over the keys as she hacked into the metadata.

Success.

It traced back to an abandoned factory overseas.

An overwhelming sense of helplessness and rage collided in her chest.

Who could coordinate sending emails from an unmonitored, abandoned factory in another country?

Who could find a forger skilled enough to mimic someone else’s handwriting down to the last detail?

Queenie didn’t have the brains or the connections for any of this.

And someone had to have disabled the Locke Group’s security systems.

Who was helping Queenie?

Desiree?

Gwyneth’s palms were white from the pressure.

Did they really want her dead that badly?

Ziggy looked up at Mr. Wallace, his gaze sharp as a hawk’s and his voice ringing out like a funeral bell for Astral Media.

“Your company’s malicious scheme directly led to the chaos at the event, creating the perfect opportunity for the attack. This is the root cause of the injuries to Ms. Fletcher and Mr. Bennett. Astral Media can’t escape liability.”

Everyone from Astral Media went pale, slumping into their chairs, knowing the game was over.

At that moment, Yardley, who had been silently standing by the window, stepped forward.

His eyes settled on Gwyneth, filled with unmistakable concern.

The hallway outside was thick with the mingled scents of antiseptic and luxury bouquets.

Queenie and Julian carried an expensive, ostentatious fruit basket and a box of premium supplements. Their faces were set in carefully measured expressions of concern and respect as they made their way toward Bennett’s room.

Julian was strategizing how to bring up the subject of his brother and Gwyneth, while Queenie was preoccupied with how to use this visit to edge her way into Bennett’s good graces—and cast Gwyneth in the worst possible light.

But as they reached the door, they froze at the scene inside—

Through the half-open door, they saw Desiree sitting in a chair at Bennett’s bedside.

Her usually immaculate hair was in disarray, her expensive suit rumpled. She sat hunched over, shoulders shaking as heartbroken sobs filled the room.

“Bennett, how could you risk your hand for a woman like that…” Her voice broke with pain and heartbreak, each word against Gwyneth dripping with poison.

Julian and Queenie exchanged a knowing glance.

Julian felt a sudden clarity.

He knew it—how could his brother ever truly care for someone like Gwyneth?

Of course not!

The only person who could ever make his brother drop his guard, or break down and let someone stay by his hospital bed and cry like this, was Ms. Sutton.

Gwyneth? She was nothing. Already cast aside—unworthy of his brother’s attention.