Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 89

Bennett took the glass of water, his fingertips brushing lightly against hers—a cool, fleeting touch.

He took a sip, eyes still fixed on her with that uncanny intensity, as if he could see right through her. “Cleaning house wearing you out?”

Gwyneth paused, surprised for a moment, then let it go. With his resources, it was no shock he knew about everything that had gone down at Fletcher Group.

She settled into the chair by his bed, letting her body relax as she leaned back, massaging her brow. She didn’t bother denying it. “A bit, yeah. Over the years, Winston’s hollowed out the company, stuffed it full of parasites like Yohan. Today… was only the beginning.”

Bennett took in the fatigue etched across her features, his gaze growing darker, more thoughtful.

He didn’t press for details. Instead, he closed the file in his hands and set it aside. “You did well.”

Just four simple words, but they carried real weight—recognition from someone powerful.

Right then, her phone rang urgently, Elodie’s name lighting up the screen.

“Gwyneth, Winston’s following you!”

Gwyneth shot to her feet.

“Got it. Alert hospital security and the police—lock down every exit on this floor. I’ll—” She rattled off orders, body already tense, ready to leave the room and mobilize every available guard.

But before she could finish, a low, calm voice cut through her urgency.

“No need.”

Bennett had already set aside his file at some point.

He was still half-reclined on the hospital bed, looking completely at ease—except for his eyes, which were now as cold and dark as a frozen well.

He glanced at Gwyneth and spoke with unnerving certainty, his tone flat, almost chilling: “It’s handled.”

Gwyneth stared at him in shock. That fast?

Before she could ask how, the phone rang again—Elodie, once more.

She picked up immediately.

He cleared his throat. “My hand’s hurting again.”

Gwyneth’s expression sobered. She glanced at his hand, guilt flickering in her eyes, though she was still a little annoyed. “If you’re in pain, maybe try resting instead of reading those damn files.”

Without another word, she snatched the folder from his bedside table, slipping easily back into her take-charge persona from the office. “Confiscated.”

At that moment, Bennett took in her pale complexion and the thin sweater she wore, a flicker of concern passing through him.

Was she sick?

————

Meanwhile, in the hospital’s underground parking garage—

The fire escape smelled of damp mildew and the faint sting of ammonia.

Winston slumped against the cold concrete wall, gasping for breath. His expensive suit was wrinkled and filthy, his tie askew. Fresh scratches covered his face and neck, several still oozing blood, each one burning hot against his skin.