The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 130: A Father’s Betrayal

Chapter 130: A Father’s Betrayal

Morris Adams turned, his posture guarded.

Emma shut the door gently behind her, muffling the distant murmurs from upstairs.

"What are you really doing here?" she asked, voice low but sharp. "You’re not just here to catch up with Derek and Darla... are you?"

Morris looked at her, trying to play it cool. "This isn’t your business, Emma."

"It is my business," she said, stepping closer. "Jean is my business. She’s more family to me than these people ever were."

Morris scoffed under his breath. "Don’t get sentimental. That girl is a liability. She’s never been one of us."

Emma flinched.

There it was again... the truth she’d tried so hard to ignore.

"You said she was just a pawn. That giving her to Tyler Dominic would benefit everyone," she whispered bitterly. "You told me to let it happen. Why? What do you get out of this?"

Morris didn’t deny it. But he couldn’t say the real truth behind his rage either. "She would’ve had a life. Security. You think Logan Kingsley married her for love?"

Emma looked away, trying to push down the ache in her throat.

Her eyes narrowed now. "I thought I could forget it. I thought maybe... just maybe, you were trying to protect your reputation. But now? You’re here. In their living room. I know there’s something going on."

Morris looked rattled for the first time. "You don’t understand the danger, Emma..."

"No, you don’t," she snapped. "You don’t understand the danger of underestimating Jean and my friendship."

"You don’t get it," she said softly. "You only ever saw her as a problem to fix or even thought of selling her off. I saw her cry when no one did. I saw her keep surviving when no one even asked if she wanted to. And she still protected this family and its secrets."

Morris’s jaw tightened.

Emma continued, "You don’t deserve to be her uncle."

His face hardened. "You’ve changed, Emma. You never talked back to me like this."

"No," she said, her voice steady now. "I’ve just opened my eyes."

Footsteps echoed upstairs, and Emma knew she didn’t have much time.

She turned to go, but stopped at the door.

"If you’re here to warn them, save it. Jean’s already two steps ahead. And if they ever try to hurt her again... you’ll lose me too."

She didn’t wait for his reply.

By the time she returned to Jean and Hannah upstairs, her face was calm again, her voice light.

"Need help packing?" she asked with a grin.

Jean smiled, unaware of the quiet war Emma had just fought for her.

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"Pack these too," Jean instructed the maids, her voice calm but firm as she pointed to the designer luggage set in the corner of the room.

Emma walked beside her, opening the drawers while Hannah followed quietly behind, her arms full of neatly folded clothes.

"This one as well," Jean added, gesturing toward a locked jewelry case. "Be careful."

They moved like a small army of shadows... swift, silent, efficient.

Jean glanced at Hannah. "Take care of everything and wait outside with the others while I go get my cars, alright?"

Hannah nodded without protest. "Got it."

"Take the helper with you. Make sure nothing gets scratched."

With one last glance toward Jean, Hannah turned and exited with the rest, leaving the two women alone in the echoing bedroom that once served as Jean’s prison.

The silence was sudden.

And crushing.

Jean stood in the middle of the room, her arms crossed tight over her chest. Her eyes scanned the pale wallpaper, the now bare dresser, the half drawn curtains letting in a filtered gray light. Her lips parted, but no words came out... just a shaky breath.

Emma stepped closer and rubbed her back, grounding her.

Jean finally spoke, her voice cracking. "This is the last time I’ll ever be here."

Emma said nothing.

"I don’t even know why I’m sad..." Jean whispered. "There’s no good memory here. Nothing. Just betrayal, silence, chains. So why... do I still feel like I lost something?"

Emma’s heart twisted. She wanted to say something comforting... anything... but all she could hear was her father’s bitter words ringing in her ears.

Still, she tightened her hold on Jean.

"Let’s go, Jean," Emma said gently, her voice trembling. "There’s nothing good left in this house. No need to cry over a broken past, because in the future... I see you shining bright and free."

Jean breathed in slowly, blinking back a stubborn tear before letting it fall.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice finding its strength again. "Let’s go get my babies... and leave the hell out of this place."

They turned together, no longer looking back as they headed for the garage... toward freedom, toward the future.

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The large metal doors of the garage rolled open with a grating groan, revealing the dimly lit space lined with sleek, polished silhouettes under satin covers.

Jean stepped in first, her heels clicking against the concrete floor like the ticking of a clock. Emma followed, her eyes wide with awe as the lights flickered on.

Jean stopped in the center and looked around.

These weren’t just cars. These were her milestones. Her trophies. Her rebellion wrapped in steel and speed.

She walked toward the first one, slowly removing the cover. A deep red Aston Martin shimmered beneath, sleek and powerful.

"They never bought me anything," she whispered. "Not a bicycle, not even a bus card when I was in college. But look at this, Emma..."

She turned, eyes glinting not with tears but fire.

"I bought this with the money from my first skincare line."

Emma smiled, walking toward a white McLaren. "You earned every bit of it."

Jean pulled off the next cover... her favorite: a matte black Porsche with custom pink trim. "I built my own empire from the ground up. Not a cent from my family. And now..." She paused, running her fingers lovingly across the hood. "These are my babies."

She tossed Emma a key. "Drive that one. I’ll take this."

"What about the stuff?" Emma asked, glancing behind at the suitcases they had packed.

Jean pressed a button on her phone and called the driver. "He’ll follow behind with the luggage in the van. Let’s move."

The two engines roared to life like wild beasts awakening from slumber.

They pulled out of the garage and rolled down the driveway, where Hannah stood waiting patiently with the help.

But something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Hannah’s face had turned pale. Her eyes wide.

And behind her... flames.