Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 73

Time drifted by, and Gwyneth felt her eyelids growing unbearably heavy, as if weighted with lead. Her mind floated in and out of a restless, muddled sleep.

She barely slept at all that night.

Her phone kept buzzing insistently on the nightstand, the vibration drilling relentlessly into her ears. She had no idea how long it had been going on, but eventually, it yanked her back from the edge of exhaustion to full awareness.

With an effort, she pried her eyes open. Harsh daylight leaked through the gap in the curtains, making it clear that the afternoon was already upon her.

Her vision landed first, unfocused, on the hospital bed.

Bennett was sitting up against the elevated headboard, several documents spread across his lap. His brow was faintly furrowed, that look of concentration softening the pallor of illness on his face.

He didn’t seem bothered by the phone. Or maybe he simply chose to tune out everything beyond those papers.

Only then did Gwyneth glance at her own phone, still buzzing with stubborn persistence.

On the screen, “Julian” flashed over and over, a string of missed calls in angry red numbers trailing after his name.

Almost reflexively, she looked at Bennett again.

Drawing a long, steadying breath, Gwyneth pressed the answer button and slid the thin blanket off her legs, getting up to slip quietly into the calm of the hallway outside.

Some things needed to be settled.

“Hello, Julian.” Her voice was rough with sleep and laced with a cool composure she had to force herself to maintain.

“Gwyneth?” Julian’s voice came through the line, not openly angry—if anything, it was gentler than usual, almost deliberately so, which only made Gwyneth more guarded. “You finally picked up. Where have you been? I was worried about you.”

She let a faint, wry smile curve her lips. “My phone died, and I just got it charged.”

A pause followed on the other end.

Then Julian spoke again, his tone still silk-smooth but now edged with an authority that left no room for argument. “As long as you’re safe. Come home to the Lockes’ for dinner tonight. There’s something important to discuss.”

“Understood.” Gwyneth lowered her gaze, her eyes fathomless, her answer barely above a whisper.

She turned and quietly pushed open the door to the hospital room. Bennett hadn’t moved, still absorbed in his documents as if nothing had happened.

“I have something to take care of tonight,” Gwyneth said lightly.

Bennett’s fingers paused for a split second on the page, then resumed as if nothing had happened. Only the faintest flicker passed through his deep-set eyes.

He said nothing, just offered a quiet, “Alright.”

———

A black sedan slid away from the hospital, leaving Bennett and that silent, sterile room behind.

Just like that, a wedding?

This wasn’t a discussion. It was a declaration—an order from the Lockes that could not be questioned.

She jerked her gaze up to Yale. His eyes were bottomless, unyielding—there would be no negotiation here, only his absolute control.

Queenie’s glare burned into Gwyneth, her jealousy so raw it was almost tangible.

“Yale!” Queenie nearly shrieked his name, her smugness instantly replaced by disbelief and fury.

Gwyneth was really going to marry into the Lockes—so suddenly, and with such fanfare?

Why her?

After all those years at Julian’s side, what had the Lockes ever given Queenie besides empty promises?

The sting of it nearly sent her over the edge. Realizing she’d gone too far, she quickly forced a sugary smile. “I’m not sure Gwyneth is ready for this…”

“Queenie!” Yale snapped, his voice low but thunderous. His sharp gaze swept over her, cold and full of warning. “This is a family matter, and you’re in no position to comment.”

Queenie shrank under his stare, as if someone had clamped a hand around her throat. Her face flushed a deep red, her chest heaving with anger, but she could only glare daggers at Gwyneth, eyes nearly brimming with venom.