Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 77

He walked in with steady, purposeful steps, eyes fixed straight ahead, and stopped right in front of Yale. With a slight bow—respectful yet dignified—he greeted him.

Gwyneth’s eyes widened in shock.

Hugo?!

What on earth was he doing here?

And at this exact moment?

Did Bennett really need his assistant to come to the Locke family directly to talk business?

Before Gwyneth could make sense of it all, Hugo’s clear, composed voice rang out, cutting through the oppressive silence of the living room:

“Mr. Locke, sorry to intrude.” He nodded again, his tone poised and unflinching. “Mr. Boyd asked me to convey his regards.”

Yale’s brow twitched. Hadn’t Bennett said he wouldn’t come? Yet his face betrayed almost no emotion.

Hugo’s gaze swept calmly across the room, pausing for a heartbeat on Desiree—her face frozen in a mask of shock and schadenfreude—before finally coming to rest on Gwyneth, whose expression was icy and unreadable.

Then, turning back to Yale, Hugo spoke, each word crisp and deliberate:

“Mr. Boyd also said that he hopes you won’t make things difficult for Ms. Fletcher.”

The words struck like a thunderclap, sending shockwaves through the Locke family’s dining room.

For the first time, Yale’s normally stoic, commanding face cracked. His hawk-like eyes flashed with disbelief and a hint of wariness.

His eldest son, always so distant, was stepping in? For Gwyneth?

When had there ever been such a connection between them?

In that instant, the smug superiority and scorn on Desiree’s face evaporated, wiped clean by an arctic chill. All color drained from her cheeks, leaving her pale and stricken with terror.

Why would he… stand up for Gwyneth?

Bennett had sent someone to protect her. So what did that make Desiree?

A tidal wave of betrayal and fear crashed over her, leaving her trembling uncontrollably. Her gaze toward Gwyneth twisted with malice and incredulity.

“Is that really what he said?” Yale demanded.

Hugo answered solemnly, “Those were Mr. Boyd’s exact words.”

Gwyneth could only stand there, stunned—her mind a complete blank.

Hugo’s appearance was surprising enough. But the message he brought? It was earth-shattering.

She knew, for now, the storm had passed.

“Alright.”

She didn’t spare anyone another glance. With her slender back straight—projecting a strength that belied her delicate frame—she turned and walked out, her steps calm and unhurried even under Yale’s inscrutable gaze, Desiree’s fearful glare, and Julian’s simmering anger.

She understood: the stone she had cast into the deep waters of the Locke family was bound to stir up an even greater storm.

And Bennett—her so-called husband—clearly had secrets she had yet to discover.

As Gwyneth’s resolute figure disappeared beyond the ornate iron gates, it became a thorn in Julian’s side. He watched her car vanish from view, the polite mask on his face shattering, replaced by cold malice and resentment.

He would never let her slip from his control. And he certainly couldn’t tolerate Bennett’s interference.

He needed an outlet.

Immediately, he dialed Queenie’s number, forcing his voice into a low, gentle lilt. “Queenie, where are you? I’m coming over.”

At her temporary apartment, Queenie’s eyes were puffy and red from crying, makeup streaked down her face. The moment Julian stepped in, she flung herself into his arms, sobbing her grievances. “Julian, Gwyneth did this on purpose—I know it! She set me up to make a fool of myself. And your father… what was he playing at, humiliating me in front of everyone?”

The memory of being dragged out by security made her entire body tremble.

Julian forced himself to be patient, wrapping her in his arms and gently patting her back. “Alright, alright, don’t cry. I know you’ve been wronged. The old man’s just upset because the Fletcher family’s shares aren’t in his hands yet. The only one I truly care about is you—Gwyneth means nothing.”