The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 146: Walk, Talk and Ruin Egos

Chapter 146: Walk, Talk and Ruin Egos

The atmosphere in Logan Kingsley’s office was razor-sharp... silent, focused, and tense like the calm before a corporate storm.

Behind the wide mahogany desk, Logan sat in his high backed leather chair, fingers steepled, jaw locked in quiet calculation.

Henry, his assistant, stood by the wall, tablet in hand, a small team of Logan’s most trusted strategists seated around the table.

"Let’s begin." Logan’s voice was low, but it commanded the room instantly.

Henry stepped forward and tapped the tablet, projecting a confidential map of the land Alex Adams was targeting. A pristine area on the city outskirts... ideal for a resort, a tech hub, or even a luxury private estate.

"It’s a hot piece," Henry said. "Only a handful of corporate names got the invite. Alex Adams is one of the top contenders. But we can outbid him if we strike with precision."

Logan shook his head in denial. "I don’t want precision. I want devastation. I want him to realize, the moment he raises that paddle, that he’s already lost." He leaned back, eyes cold."This is personal."

The Team Analyst shows him a bar chart, "Sir, the Adams Corporation has diverted nearly 40% of their short term liquid into this project. If they lose this, it will cause serious volatility in their market confidence."

Logan’s lips curved faintly, the ghost of a cruel smile. "Perfect."

Henry nodded. "We’ll register through a shell subsidiary... make it clean. No connection to Kingsley Corp. But internally, we’ll leak that an anonymous bidder is coming in hard. That’ll unnerve Alex before he even arrives."

Logan asked. "And the valuation?"

The Analyst checked immediately. "We estimate Adams won’t go higher than 190 million. We’ll prepare 250. Just in case."

Logan’s knuckles brushed against the tabletop as he murmured, "If he wants to play war, let’s show him how it feels to lose everything in silence."

The room fell into a heavy silence, each man exchanging looks, understanding the stakes were more than just corporate. This wasn’t about land.

This was about Jean.

Logan stood up abruptly, buttoning his coat with crisp, deliberate movements. "I want all details on Adams Corp’s finances for the last three years. Especially where Alex has personal stakes. If this fails, we move to the next phase."

Henry asked curiously... "Which is?"

Logan turned to the window, eyes fixed on the glowing horizon.

"We strip him of his power. Slowly, beautifully... one asset at a time."

_____________________________

The golden hue of the setting sun spilled lazily into the living room, wrapping everything in a soft, melancholic glow. Jean sat curled on the plush couch by the window, her arms folded over her knees, her bandaged shoulder gently rising and falling as she stared into the distance.

She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t even thinking, really. Just breathing... just being there. For now.

The door clicked open quietly behind her.

Footsteps. He is back.

Jean didn’t move. She didn’t need to.

She already knew it was him.

Logan.

He stood just a few feet behind her, fresh from the war room of Kingsley Corp, his presence as heavy and commanding as ever, but right now, there was a hesitation in his steps. His eyes landed on her... her silhouette framed against the window, still, quiet, unreachable.

She looked like she didn’t want to be disturbed.

So he stood there.

Watching.

Debating.

Saying nothing.

But then... she turned.

Slowly.

Her eyes met his.

For a moment, the air between them pulsed with the weight of unspoken words. Apologies. Gratitude. Affection. Pain. Desire. Fear.

She wanted to speak. So did he.

But nothing came out.

It was as if they were both waiting for the other to say something first. To be the one to break the spell. And neither did.

Then suddenly...

Bzzzz.

Logan’s phone buzzed. Loud in the silence.

He exhaled quietly, almost in relief, and looked down at the caller ID.

"Excuse me," he murmured, and turned away, answering the call as he stepped into the hallway, his voice fading behind him.

Jean let out a small sigh, her gaze drifting back to the window.

She should’ve said it.

She wanted to.

She wanted to ask if she could go with him... to the bidding. To the battlefield. To stand beside him, even with her healing wounds, even with her body still sore and her soul stitched together by borrowed courage.

But she already knew the answer.

"No, Jean. You’re still recovering."

"Stay home."

"Rest."

Logan would say it with care. With his own stern tone. But it would still sting.

So she said nothing.

Instead, she closed her eyes briefly and whispered to herself,

"Let me be strong enough to fight beside you one day... not just be the reason you fight."

_____________________________

The aroma of freshly cooked steak and garlic mashed potatoes filled the air, dimmed pendant lights casting a cozy golden glow over the dining table. Jean sat across from Logan, dressed in one of his oversized shirts... something she’d stolen from his closet again.

Her hair was still damp from a shower, she looked effortlessly beautiful... annoyingly so.

She didn’t even know what effect she has on men.

Logan, in a crisp white shirt with sleeves rolled up, was nursing a glass of wine as he cut into his steak. They ate in a comfortable silence, occasionally catching each other’s gaze, as if they were waiting for a storm to break.

Jean was the one to start it.

"I want to come with you tomorrow."

Logan paused in the middle of a bite, eyes slowly lifting to meet hers. "To the bidding?"

She nodded, placing her fork down and folding her arms on the table. "It’ll be good for the public image. Two strong names... Adams and Kingsley... standing side by side. Power couple stuff."

Logan’s brows twitched. "You’re still healing."

"I can walk, talk, and ruin egos just fine."

He smirked. "That so?"

Jean leaned in slightly. "You said it yourself, Logan. They should think our marriage is for love, not for strategy. Let them see it. Let them choke on it."

Logan didn’t reply at first. He chewed slowly, looking at her with those sharp calculating eyes. Then suddenly, a slow, wicked smile curled on his lips.

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