The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 111: Words or Jabs?

Chapter 111: Words or Jabs?

"Tyler, calm down..."

"I WILL NOT!" Tyler roared, spinning to face him. "That fat loser Kingsley... he took her. He touched her. He gets to sleep beside her now?!" His voice broke as he slammed his bloody foot against the ground again, rage eclipsing the pain.

Daniel eyed the blood trailing behind his son. "You’re hurt..."

"Do I look like I care?" Tyler snapped. "Where are they?! Where are those useless Adams! I told you to bring them! I want to shoot them in the head for failing me!"

Daniel clenched his jaw. He didn’t give a damn about Jean Adams. That girl was nothing but a pawn... he’d only ever mattered to Tyler. But this... this madness was dangerous. His son was spiraling. If Tyler didn’t get what he wanted soon, he would burn the whole world down.

He reached for his phone, his voice low and resolute as he said, "I’ll get her back. Just hold on. I’ll bring Jean to you."

Tyler turned to him, chest still heaving, his eyes filled with something feral. "You’d better. Because if you don’t... I swear, I’ll make Logan Kingsley beg for death."

Later that night, Daniel sat in the dim light of his private study, fingers tapping against his desk as he mulled over the rising storm. A direct move would put too much heat on him. Tyler’s obsession had already drawn too much attention. No... he had to be smart.

Strategic enough to plot his plan.

He reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out a worn, encrypted contact book.

He flipped through it until he found a name that hadn’t surfaced in years... Marcus Hale.

A fixer.

A ghost.

Someone who specialized in silent pressure. His most trusted man.

Daniel dialed the number with no hesitation.

A few rings. Then, a calm, raspy voice answered, "You’re calling late."

"I have a job," Daniel said. "A discreet one. The target is... Logan Kingsley. You know him right?"

A pause. "His case will be high profile. What kind of job?"

"No violence. Not yet. Just... shake him a little. Make him nervous. Make him think someone knows things he shouldn’t. I want him distracted, off balance. Push hard enough to make him question everything... especially that woman he’s with."

"Blackmail?"

"Exactly. But subtle. Anonymous. Use fake documentation if you must. I want him to sweat. And I don’t want it traced back to me. Not even a shadow."

The voice on the other end chuckled. "Understood."

Daniel ended the call and leaned back, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

If Logan Kingsley thought marrying Jean Adams would keep her safe, he was about to learn just how wrong he was.

_____________________________

The morning sun spilled through the windows of Logan’s modern dining room, casting a warm glow on the pristine surfaces. Logan sat at the head of the table, dressed sharply in a tailored navy suit, his tie perfectly knotted. His staff moved quietly around him, setting down breakfast... sausages, omelets, toast, fresh fruit, and coffee.

He was scrolling through something on his tablet when he heard the faint shuffle of footsteps. He looked up.

Jean walked in, with her healing barefoot, dressed in a loose robe over her silk nightgown. She didn’t say a word as she took the seat across from him.

Logan looked up from his tablet and offered a soft, "Good morning."

Silence.

Jean picked up her coffee, casually ignoring him.

Logan smirked, resting his elbows on the table. "Still mad about last night?"

Jean didn’t answer. She focused on peeling her croissant.

Unbothered, Logan reached for his glass of juice. "Well, today’s special. It’s my first day walking into Kingsley Corporation as a married man."

Jean rolled her eyes and muttered, "Great. Now you can’t flirt with your female employees."

That hit like a jab.

Logan stilled, his playful smile fading just a fraction. He looked at her with sharp, unreadable eyes. "Is that what you think of me?"

Jean finally met his gaze, arms crossed. "Isn’t that what you do?"

He leaned back in his chair, lips pressing into a line. "I don’t flirt with my employees. I don’t need to. And if you’re going to insult me every morning, at least make it creative."

Jean’s jaw tensed, but she didn’t respond.

There was a long pause. Then, Logan stood, adjusting his suit jacket.

"I’ll be late," he said, voice cool. "Try not to throw anything while I’m gone."

With that, he left the room, the faint sound of his shoes echoing in the hall as the front door clicked shut behind him.

Jean sat back in her chair, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Why did everything feel like a game she wasn’t prepared to play? Then she looked at the way he walked out.

He looked really mad.

___________________________

Logan stepped into Kingsley Corporation, the glass doors parting as his staff stood straighter at the sight of him. "Good morning, Mr. Kingsley," they greeted with practiced smiles, but he barely acknowledged them.

His mind was elsewhere.

He made his way to his private office on the top floor, the elevator ride silent except for the hum of tension vibrating off his stiff shoulders.

Once inside, he yanked his tie loose slightly and threw his tablet on the desk. His jaw clenched as he paced toward the window, looking out over the city skyline.

The morning should’ve felt victorious... his first day back as a married man, fulfilling the public image he built so carefully. Yet Jean’s words echoed like poison in his ears.

"Now you can’t flirt with your female employees."

He scoffed under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair.

He wasn’t a womanizer. He never mixed business with pleasure. Sure, he’d had women before... plenty even... but never in the office, and never with empty promises. They all knew the rules. Logan Kingsley didn’t do love. He didn’t offer fairy tales.

But somehow, Jean still managed to paint him like some low grade playboy.

And that stung more than he was willing to admit.

He slammed a folder down on his desk and sat, eyes narrowing as his fingers gripped the edge.

Why does it still hurt?

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