The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 121: The Kingsley Invasion

Chapter 121: The Kingsley Invasion

Arrangement?

Did they know it wasn’t real?

Or were they just guessing?

Jean’s lips parted, as if she might speak. But then... No lie instantly came to her mouth. Martha Kingsley shouldn’t be lied to.

So instead of responding, she just smiled again.

"If there’s anything you truly need to worry about," she said lightly, "it’s the paparazzi’s obsession with our dining habits. Logan’s still trying to recover from the fact I almost forked him to death."

Mr. Kingsley let out a low chuckle. "Sounds like him."

Mrs. Kingsley laughed too, but her eyes were still searching Jean’s face for something.

Jean turned to the butler and asked him to bring tea. She needed a few minutes. Not to freshen up.

Just... to breathe.

____________________________

Jean shut the bedroom door behind her like she was running from a war zone.

She had faked a migraine.

A graceful escape, really. One dramatic hand over her temple, a weak smile, and a promise to rest. Logan’s parents had nodded with concern, though Martha Kingsley’s eyes said she wasn’t fooled.

Jean flopped on the bed, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and immediately dialed Logan.

He picked up on the second ring.

"I’m in a meeting," he said, voice low, likely pressed between board members and a CEO who didn’t know the Kingsley heir had just married a woman who could throw a fork with perfect accuracy.

Jean didn’t even greet him. "Your parents showed up."

There was a pause. "At the house?"

"No, at a karaoke bar. Of course at the house," she snapped. "They just walked in like this was some Sunday family brunch."

Another pause. "Did they say something rude to you?"

Jean sat up, her robe falling slightly off her shoulder. She didn’t care. "They didn’t have to say it. They asked how we were adjusting. If we were settling in. And then your mom gave me this... sympathetic look like I was either being held hostage or recently divorced."

Logan sighed. "That’s just how she talks."

"Oh no, Kingsley. This wasn’t ’talk.’ They were sniffing around the arrangement."

That caught him.

"The what?"

Jean rolled her eyes. "The arrangement. Our deal. Our little ’let’s pretend we love each other and make the world fall for it’ game."

"You’re being dramatic," Logan replied. "My parents might suspect things, but they won’t confront us unless they’re sure. Relax."

"I’m not relaxing until I see your face," she hissed. "I need backup. Emotional, legal, armed... anything. Come home."

"I’m at work, Jean."

"I don’t care if you’re giving a TED talk on how to be a narcissist in five easy steps... come home. Now."

He let out a long breath. "Why does it feel like I married a tyrant in silk robes?"

"Because you did," she said sweetly. "Now move those billionaire legs and drive home before I tell your parents we sleep in separate beds."

"You wouldn’t dare."

"I would. I’d even describe the layout. You... King sized bed. Me... The emotional support couch."

Logan groaned. "Fine. I’ll wrap this up and be there in an hour."

Jean hung up before he could say goodbye.

She tossed the phone on the bed, lay back, and covered her eyes with her arm.

They were doing such a great job faking it for the world... but it was Logan’s own parents who might become the crack in their perfectly curated illusion.

And worse?

Jean wasn’t sure which part she hated more... being accused of faking a marriage... or realizing how much it almost made her felt guilty.

_____________________________

Logan loosened the first button of his shirt as he entered the quiet house, the familiar scent of home surprisingly comforting after a long day of damage control and a hastily ended meeting.

The evening was calm... eerily calm.

The staff had all left. The house, usually bustling with discrete movement and light footsteps, now carried only the faint sounds of a TV murmuring in the drawing room.

Logan stepped inside and instantly saw his father reclining in his favorite armchair, flipping through news channels with casual arrogance.

"Dad?"

Harvard Kingsley turned his head slightly and offered a knowing smile. "Oh, you’re back already? I thought you’d be held up longer at the company."

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly at the not-so-subtle implication. "I wrapped things up as fast as I could. Can you explain what you’re doing here?"

Harvard gave a theatrical shrug. "Why? Can’t a father visit his son’s house?"

Logan took a slow breath, keeping his tone level. "I’m married now, Dad. I don’t live alone anymore. Jean stays here."

"Exactly," Harvard said with a nod and a touch of forced warmth. "Which is why we came to check if she’s adjusting well or not."

Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That wasn’t checking. That was inspecting.

They came to sniff out cracks in the foundation. Test the walls of their so-called marriage. Watch for any sign of illusion.

"And where are the others?" Logan asked instead, removing his watch and placing it on the side table.

Harvard flicked off the TV and leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. "Your mother and Jean are in the kitchen. Preparing dinner together."

Logan raised a brow. Jean... cooking?

Harvard chuckled. "Your wife asked us to stay for dinner. Isn’t she such a sweetheart?"

A pause.

Logan exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening just slightly.

"She’s full of surprises," he muttered.

But in his mind, a dozen questions swirled.

Jean, playing the perfect hostess?

Jean, willingly entertaining his parents?

Was this another layer of the mask... or was it her own form of defense?

Whatever the answer was, he wasn’t about to let Harvard Kingsley sniff her out and draw his own conclusions.

Straightening his shoulders, Logan started toward the kitchen.

If Jean wanted to play the role of his wife, he’d damn well be the devoted husband.

Let the game continue... because it wasn’t just the world they were fooling anymore.

It was the family.

And they were the hardest ones to lie to.

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