The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 149: The Bidding Ceremony (A Shocked Adams)

Chapter 149: The Bidding Ceremony (A Shocked Adams)

Inside the ballroom, murmurs rose.

"Is that Jean Adams with Logan Kingsley?"

"I thought she was out of the picture..."

"What is she doing here with him?"

"Heard they are married now...!"

Jean ignored every whisper. Her chin lifted, eyes sharp.

Emma and Hannah followed close behind, both dressed to kill, completing the entourage. But it was Logan and Jean who stole the spotlight.

The announcer approached with a polite bow. "Mr. Kingsley, your table is ready. Your assistant Mr Henry is already here."

Logan gave a tight nod. "Lead the way."

They were escorted to a table at the front... right across from the Adams Corporation’s delegation.

And seated in the middle of them all... was Alex Adams.

Jean’s jaw clenched ever so slightly, but Logan placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked past Alex’s table. His touch was subtle, possessive. Alex’s smirk dropped for a second too long.

The tension in the room could be sliced with a diamond-edged knife.

As they took their seats, Jean whispered under her breath, "You sure you’re ready to do this?"

Logan leaned in just enough for her to hear, his voice a smooth murmur. "Jean, I brought you here for a reason. Let’s make it unforgettable."

Jean smiled slowly, sipping from her champagne flute. This wasn’t just business anymore.

This was personal.

The ballroom lights dimmed slightly as the host took the stage, voice echoing through the gilded chamber.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s elite private bidding ceremony. Up for acquisition... 110 acres of prime land in the Crescent District. The land has been eyed for commercial and high-rise development... only the most capable shall win it tonight."

Logan’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest of his chair. His gaze never left Alex Adams, who leaned back at his own table with an arrogant smirk, casually sipping his scotch. His date... just another interchangeable socialite... leaned in to whisper something in his ear, but Alex was too focused on Jean.

Jean met her brother’s gaze with dead calm.

He didn’t expect her to be here. He definitely didn’t expect her to sit beside the very man threatening to rip his empire apart.

Let the games begin.

___________________________

Moments ago...

The murmur of the gathering elite filled the chamber, but inside Alex Adams’ private booth, tension was already thick.

He sat rigid in his armchair, hands clasped tightly, eyes locked on the entryway to the grand hall via the surveillance feed on the wall.

And then... there they were.

Logan Kingsley in an impeccably tailored black suit, exuding effortless dominance.

And beside him...

Jean.

She walked like she didn’t owe the world a damn thing... chin lifted, body draped in emerald silk, her injured arm wrapped carefully but not hidden. Her presence wasn’t a statement. It was a declaration of war.

Alex’s jaw clenched. His fingers dug into the leather armrest as he turned slowly toward his team.

"Tell me," he said, voice sharp as a blade, "why the hell are Jean and Logan here?"

His assistant flinched. "S-Sir, we ran the attendee list twice. Neither of their names were..."

"I asked you to cross check every invitation. Every guest. Every sponsor. Every seat." His voice dropped lower, colder. "And yet my traitorous sister and that bastard Kingsley just walked into my arena like they own it."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

"I want answers. Now."

"Th-they could’ve come as guests of another buyer," one of the junior analysts offered hesitantly.

Alex turned his gaze toward him, eyes glinting with fury. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? That I was outmaneuvered in my own territory?"

His date... some pretty young heiress with too much perfume and not enough sense... tried to place her hand on his arm. "Alex, maybe it’s just a coincidence. You can still outbid..."

"Shut up," he snapped, not even sparing her a glance. She recoiled, shifting away like a scolded child.

"Coincidence?" he sneered, eyes now on the live feed again. Logan was smirking. Jean, cool and unreadable, whispered something to him, and Logan laughed under his breath.

Alex’s face darkened like a storm cloud. "No. He’s here for me."

A pause.

"She’s here to taunt me."

His breathing sharpened, shoulders twitching in restraint.

"He thinks he’s clever... showing up with her on his arm like he owns her."

He turned, facing his team. "I want eyes on Logan’s team. I want to know what his cap is tonight. And make damn sure I’m not outbid."

"And if it’s a bluff, sir?" someone asked.

Alex’s eyes narrowed. "Then I’ll raise until he breaks. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of walking away with anything I want."

He downed the rest of his drink, jaw clenched.

"And especially not her."

"The base price is 10 million." The first paddle was raised... an oil magnate from the east. Then another. Then another.

"12 million," Alex called, not even blinking.

Logan smiled slowly. "20 million."

A gasp rippled through the room.

Jean arched her brow. "Aggressive start."

He whispered beside her ear, "I like watching them sweat early."

Alex narrowed his eyes.

"22 million," he countered.

"25," Logan said coolly, without even lifting his hand... his assistant Henry had already done so.

"26."

Logan leaned forward lazily. "30 million."

Jean looked at him sideways, impressed. "You do realize there’s no actual return for overbidding this early?"

Logan’s lips twitched. "Who said this was about returns?"

Across the room, Alex was beginning to lose that smug expression. He whispered something to his team, visibly agitated.

"35 million."

"40," Logan replied before the host could even echo the last number.

This wasn’t a bid anymore.

It was a war.

The tension thickened with each number, with each tick of the gilded clock above the stage.

Jean leaned in toward Logan again, her voice low and mocking. "He’s going to explode."

Logan’s smile darkened. "That’s the plan."

When Alex stood, furious, and called out "45 million!", everyone turned to stare.

The host blinked. "Sir, please raise your paddle to register..."

"I said forty-five million!"

Logan stood slowly, straightening his jacket. "Fifty million."

The room gasped.