The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 125: Suffocating Walls

Chapter 125: Suffocating Walls

"Dad," Logan said again, this time his voice laced with alarm. "You didn’t even discuss this with me."

Jared shrugged. "Didn’t have to. I’m the majority shareholder and chairman."

Jean finally found her voice. "I... I don’t understand. Why would you..."

Jared smiled kindly. "Because you’ve taken our son’s name. You’ve stepped into this circus without flinching. And frankly, I’ve watched you long enough to know you’re not just a name on paper."

He leaned back, satisfied. "You’re sharp. You’re resilient. You’ve got that fire in you this family needs. Consider this not just a gesture... but a responsibility."

Jean stared at him in disbelief.

Logan looked between them, his jaw tight. "Dad, this is going to raise flags. Questions. Especially from the board."

"Let them ask," Jared said coolly. "They’ll know soon enough why she deserves it."

Jean’s throat felt tight. 30%. That wasn’t a symbolic amount.

That was power. That was pressure. That was... real.

And somewhere deep inside, she believed... This wasn’t just about family. It was about testing her.

And Jared Kingsley never handed out tests without knowing the stakes.

____________________________

The door clicked shut.

The moment Logan’s parents left the mansion, the suffocating formality finally evaporated from the air. Jean stood in the hallway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, staring at the staircase as if it might give her answers. Logan loosened his collar and looked at her, but before he could speak, she beat him to it.

"I don’t want the shares," Jean said, her voice flat but firm.

Logan blinked. "What?"

She turned to face him fully now, eyes sharp. "I don’t want to be part of your family’s power games. I don’t want your father’s money. I don’t need their approval. And I definitely don’t want to be made into a pawn in the Kingsley legacy."

Logan exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Jean, it wasn’t a trap. It was a gesture. You stood up to Cassandra, you played the wife role like a pro, you..."

"This isn’t a role to me anymore," she cut in quietly. "At least, not one I can fake without consequences."

There was silence between them.

Jean looked away, hugging herself. "I didn’t sign up for board meetings, press announcements, and corporate stakeholding. I signed that contract to protect myself and take revenge on my family. But I never agreed to be owned by your legacy."

"You wouldn’t be owned," Logan said, stepping closer. "You’d be..."

"Exactly," she snapped. "What would I be, Logan? Your partner? Your wife? A Kingsley on paper? Or just a useful name to distribute shares to?"

Logan frowned, his gaze narrowing. "You think I’d use you like that?"

"I don’t know what to think!" she said, finally meeting his eyes again. "Your father, your mother, your company... none of this was supposed to be happening. But now it’s all bleeding together. And I’m losing the line I drew when I agreed to this marriage."

He didn’t speak for a long moment. Jean’s voice lowered, steadier this time.

"I don’t want your empire. I want my own peace."

Logan swallowed hard, watching her carefully. "Then tell me what you want from me, Jean."

Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Because in truth, she didn’t know yet.

All she knew was that the more she let herself carefree... The harder it became to remember why she agreed to this marriage in the first place.

_____________________________

Jean has had enough for the day. She needs to get out from these suffocating walls now. Going upstairs to her room she directly went to her closet.

Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she descended the stairs in a crisp black pantsuit, hair pulled back, makeup immaculate. She looked flawless. Untouchable.

Logan, who had just finished his coffee, looked up... only to freeze when he saw her.

"You’re going out?"

Jean nodded, without a word.

"To the office?" he asked, setting his mug down. "That’s... good. I’m glad. I know how much you love your work."

That caught her off guard.

Not the words... but the softness behind them.

His tone wasn’t mocking or distant. It was almost... supportive. And that unnerved her more than if he’d said nothing at all.

Jean cleared her throat. "I haven’t brought my car here from my house yet. So..."

He stood up before she could finish.

"I’ll drop you off."

She looked at him, wanting to argue, to say she could book a ride. But something about the way he was already reaching for his keys silenced her.

Maybe it was exhaustion.

Maybe she just didn’t want to fight anymore.

"Alright," she muttered.

As they walked toward the door, neither said a word. Logan opened the car door for her. Jean got in without thanking him. She buckled her seatbelt with practiced grace, eyes on the road ahead as if she could escape this awkward space with sheer will.

Inside the car, silence settled again.

Logan glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was staring outside, fingers twitching slightly on her lap.

He wanted to ask if she was okay. He wanted to say something... anything... to break this unbearable distance.

But he didn’t.

Because some silences were deeper than noise.

And right now, Jean was building her walls brick by brick.

And all he could do was drive alongside them.

The car rolled to a soft stop in front of Jean’s office building. The towering glass façade reflected the early sunlight, just like the cold glint in Jean’s eyes when she unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door.

But Logan spoke before she could leave.

"Jean."

She paused, hand still on the handle. "What?"

"I meant what I said earlier," he said, keeping his tone casual... but not careless. "It’s good to see you like this again."

Her brows knitted. "Like what?"

"Like yourself." He leaned his arm on the steering wheel, turning toward her. "Head held high, suit like armor, sharp heels that sound like declarations of war on the floor."

Jean blinked.

Where was this coming from?

"You look like the Jean Adams I used to compete with. Not the one hiding behind house walls and emotional landmines."

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