The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 119: The unsaid feelings

Chapter 119: The unsaid feelings

Few moments earlier...

A knock at the door pulled Logan out of his thoughts. His maid stepped in, handing him a thin stack of morning newspapers.

"Leave them there," he said flatly, already guessing what he’d find.

Sure enough, the headline was there, bold and mocking...

"Cassandra Cole Causes Scene At Jean Adams’ First Appearance As Mrs. Kingsley!"

"The Ice Queen Defends Her Husband... But At What Cost?"

Logan sighed.

So much for a smooth public launch.

He carried the paper towards her room and after knocking, he opened her door without waiting for her response.

Jean was curled under her sheets, clearly trying to fall back asleep. Her phone lay beside her, buzzing non stop. She didn’t even look at him as he stepped in.

"Morning, darling," Logan said dryly, waving the newspaper. "Thought I’d deliver your fan mail."

"Tell the fans I’m dead," she mumbled, face buried in her pillow.

He chuckled under his breath. "Well, you might want to come back to life soon. According to the media, you’re now the poster girl for ’unhinged protective wives.’"

Jean didn’t move.

But Logan saw her shoulders tense.

"You did well," he said, voice softer now. "Even if Cassandra’s stunt nearly wrecked the night... you handled it."

Jean sat up slightly, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her hair was a mess, her eyeliner smudged from last night, and yet there he stood ...Logan Kingsley, perfectly dressed in a crisp white shirt and black trousers, holding a folded newspaper in one hand and his usual smug expression on his face.

She squinted. "Seriously? Barging in now? What is this, a routine checkup?"

He didn’t answer. Instead, he strode toward her bed and tossed the newspaper onto her lap.

It landed with a dramatic flutter, and Jean didn’t even need to read the headline.

Her own face stared back at her in full color. Right beside Logan’s.

And beneath it, in bold font...

"TROUBLE IN PARADISE OR A POWER COUPLE ON FIRE? Jean Adams Protects Husband From ’Ex Lover’ Scandal at High Stakes Dinner Date."

Jean groaned, rubbing her eyes. "Tell me this is a prank."

Logan smirked and crossed his arms. "You tell me. I’m just here to deliver the news."

She flipped through the article groggily. It was a full spread... photos, quotes, analysis, and speculation. Cassandra’s interruption had made it all the way to the headlines, but it was Jean’s sharp words and calm demeanor that had stolen the spotlight.

"A true queen in stilettos," one caption read. "Jean Adams shows Cassandra... and the world... who holds the Kingsley throne."

"Unbelievable..." Jean muttered.

She looked up and noticed Logan wasn’t smirking anymore. He was watching her, his gaze quietly observant.

"You didn’t say anything to them, did you?" she asked.

"No. They did all this with what they saw. Which, honestly, was kind of impressive." He looked at her a little too long before adding, "You surprised me."

She snorted and folded the newspaper. "Surprised myself too."

There was a pause.

Silence.

Logan’s eyes lingered. Not on her face. Not in the newspaper.

But on her hands.

Her fists were balled in the sheets again... just like last night in the car.

"Jean," he said quietly.

She stiffened.

His tone was different now. Not teasing. Not arrogant.

She looked away.

"I saw how you reacted... after dinner. In the parking lot."

Her breath caught.

For a moment, silence stretched between them like a tight wire, vibrating with tension.

"I Don’t." She turned her head slowly, eyes sharp. "I don’t want to talk about it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan stopped mid sentence. He didn’t push. He only gave a small nod. She looked at him like she’d stab him with her eyes if he continued.

"Right," he said quietly, raising both hands in surrender. "None of my business."

Jean rolled back to the other side, mumbling, "You’re finally learning."

"Alright," he said simply.

And that was it.

He left the newspaper on the bed, turned around, and walked to the door. But just before stepping out, he paused.

"You don’t always have to act like nothing ever hurts you, Jean. I’m not just your husband in front of cameras," he said softly. "You can talk to me. When you’re ready."

The only response he got was the faint rustle of blankets as she pulled them tighter around her body.

But Logan didn’t need words this time either.

He already knew... she was unraveling. And it scared her more than anything else.

But Logan didn’t miss the flicker of something in her voice.

Pain. Shame. Regret.

And he couldn’t help but wonder... What happened to her? What scar is she hiding beneath all that fire?

____________________________

Then he closed the door behind him.

Leaving Jean staring at the paper.

And the truth she couldn’t escape.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Jean stared at the door for a long time after it shut, as if waiting for Logan to return. But he didn’t.

Of course, he wouldn’t.

She exhaled, the weight in her chest sinking deeper.

The newspaper still lay across her lap like a cruel reminder of everything she wanted to forget. Her fingers grazed the photo... her own face caught mid expression, eyes sharp, lips parted as if she were in the middle of defending something worth protecting.

"You don’t always have to act like nothing ever hurts you, Jean."

His voice echoed in her ears, unwanted and persistent. She hated how those words lingered like a bruise that hadn’t fully formed yet.

Jean clenched the sheet between her fingers.

She hadn’t meant to react that way last night. That woman in the parking lot... her glow, her smile, the way she held her belly like it was the world’s greatest gift... all of it had clawed at a wound Jean thought she’d buried deep.

But trauma had a way of recognizing itself... especially when it was triggered by joy she was never allowed to have.

Her hand moved to her own stomach without thinking. It was flat now.

Cold.

Empty.