The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 24: Back to enemies

Chapter 24: Back to enemies

Jean’s body ached, her head was pounding, and Logan’s words were like needles, but she couldn’t argue with him. Not now. She didn’t have the strength for it.

Her mind replayed flashes of the storm, the deck, Farah’s horrified face... and then the phone. Her heart skipped.

She had tucked it into her body shaper right before the wave hit.

Jean’s eyes widened, and she turned to Logan, grabbing his arm weakly. "Logan... I have it," she said, her voice breathy. "I have Farah’s phone."

Logan blinked, confused. "What?"

"The phone," she repeated, eyes hopeful. "Farah’s phone, with which she took our photo. I slipped it into my shapewear before the wave... before everything."

He stared at her in disbelief.

Then his jaw tightened.

"You’re kidding me," he said slowly, voice rising with frustration. "You almost drowned. We almost died... and you’re worried about some damn phone?!"

Jean flinched, but she held her ground.

"That phone has proof," she said softly. "Proof of everything. Of what they were planning to do. If we lose that..."

"I don’t care!" Logan snapped. "You don’t risk your life for a phone, Jean!"

His chest was heaving now. He ran both hands through his wet hair, turning away from her again. His voice dropped, but the anger still simmered under it. "God, you’re unbelievable..."

Jean looked down, biting her lip. She didn’t regret saving the phone, not really. But now that she saw how furious he was, she wondered if it was worth it.

She knew it was.

She didn’t care about death. If that photo leaked, that would be her death.

Before Jean could say another word, Logan suddenly gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"I see a mountain!" he shouted.

Jean’s heart jumped. She quickly turned to where he was pointing. In the distance, rising above the endless waves, was a dark shape, jagged and green.

"Logan... that looks like an island," she whispered, hope lighting up her face.

Logan nodded eagerly, the tension on his face replaced by a flicker of relief. "Yeah. It’s covered in trees... that has to be land."

But the island was still far. Too far.

Jean’s hope wavered. "How do we get there? This raft won’t move on its own..."

Logan looked around quickly, scanning the raft for anything that could help. His hands moved to the sides, checking for paddles, ropes... anything.

Nothing.

"Damn it," he muttered. "No paddles. This thing must’ve broken off from the yacht during the storm."

He sat back for a second, jaw clenched in frustration, mind racing.

Jean’s eyes stayed locked on the island. "We can’t just sit here," she said. "What if it drifts away from us instead of closer?"

Logan glanced at her, then back at the waves.

"We’re not letting that happen," he said firmly.

He pulled off his soaked jacket, tying the sleeves together tightly. "I’ll try to use this like a paddle. It won’t be much, but it might help steer us closer."

Jean wanted to stop him... he was exhausted, barely holding on but she also knew he was right.

They had to try.

Her eyes followed Logan’s movements, her chest tightening. He looked like he was about to pass out any second, but still, he was trying.

She looked around the raft herself, searching for anything that could help. Her eyes landed on a broken piece of the raft’s frame... flat and long enough to push water.

"This might work," she said, grabbing it and crawling beside him. Her limbs were still trembling, but she forced herself to sit up straighter. "We’ll paddle together. Maybe we can catch a current."

Logan turned to her, surprised. "You sure you can do it?"

Jean gave a small nod. "I have to. We can’t rely on luck."

He gave her a look, he admired her effort but he worried for her health... he didn’t argue. He shifted to one side and they began paddling together, using their makeshift tools, trying to steer the raft toward the distant island.

The waves still pushed against them, and the current wasn’t easy. Their arms burned, muscles aching, but neither of them stopped. Minutes passed like hours. The sun broke through the clouds now, shining down on their shivering forms, but it didn’t bring much warmth, just clarity.

"I think we’re getting closer," Jean said breathlessly.

Logan glanced up. "Yeah... we are."

They didn’t say much after that. Just the sound of water splashing and their heavy breathing filled the air.

Hope... faint but real, carried them forward.

Logan’s eyes flicked to Jean. Her arms were shaking, every stroke of the paddle clearly costing her strength she didn’t have. He clenched his jaw. He could do this... he should do this. She was already half dead when he pulled her out of the water.

"Leave it, Jean. I can handle this," he said, not looking at her.

Jean turned her head slightly, one eyebrow raised. "You think I can’t keep up, Kingsley?"

He groaned under his breath. "That’s not what I meant..."

She cut him off, her paddle hitting the water harder. "Sounds like exactly what you meant."

Logan looked at her. She was pale, soaked, clearly exhausted, and yet... stubborn as hell.

"Stop it, Jean. You’re weak right now. Just let me do it," he snapped, frustration and worry mixing in his voice.

That was it.

Jean threw him a sharp look. "Don’t ever call me weak, Kingsley."

The wind picked up again, the waves slapping against the raft. But they kept paddling. Keep bickering. Kept pushing forward... until their arms gave out and both of them collapsed, lying on the raft, gasping for air.

They stared up at the sky, silent now. Just the sound of the ocean around them.

For a moment, the argument didn’t matter.

They were still alive.

The waves had settled for now, just a soft push and pull against the sides of the raft. Logan lay on his back, his chest rising and falling as he stared up at the dull sky. Every muscle in his body ached, but the ache inside his chest was worse. He turned his head slightly and peeked toward the mountain... still painfully far.

He let out a quiet groan of disappointment. "Damn it..."

A small sound broke the silence. A whimper.

He looked at Jean. Her eyes were closed, but her eyebrows twitched, and she looked like she was in pain.

"Did you hit your head when the waves crashed on you?" he asked, frowning.

No response.

He pushed himself up on one elbow, annoyance creeping into his voice. "I asked you something, Adams. Don’t show me that attitude. It’s useless here."

Jean’s eyes flew open. "Why does it matter, Logan? Don’t act like you care! Mind your own business."

Her voice was shaky, but the anger in her tone was real.

Logan stared at her for a moment, his jaw tight. He didn’t mean to care. But he did.

He hated that he did.

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