The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 51: A Mother’s Love, A Mother’s Hate

Chapter 51: A Mother’s Love, A Mother’s Hate

"I’m Logan’s mother. Martha Kingsley."

Jean’s entire body tensed.

Of course.

Another Kingsley.

Seeing Jean’s reaction, Martha gave a small smile. "I was about to leave... but since you’re awake..." she said gently. She stepped a little closer but stayed near the door, respecting Jean’s space.

Jean narrowed her eyes, suspicion crawling up her spine. She had no idea what this woman wanted from her.

An apology?

A warning?

A demand?

But Martha didn’t seem like she was here for any of those things.

"I just wanted to say..." Martha’s voice softened even further, almost like she was speaking from a place of deep, maternal gratitude. "Thank you. For saving my son."

Jean blinked, caught off-guard.

"I know my Logan," Martha continued with a soft chuckle. "Stubborn as a mule. Always has been. He would have tried to survive the island on his own just to prove something." She smiled sadly. "But... I know he wouldn’t have made it without you."

Jean’s throat tightened, emotion she didn’t expect pricking at her chest.

Martha smiled at her warmly. "You’re braver than you think, Ms. Adams."

Jean didn’t know what to say. No one had ever thanked her like that before. Not without some hidden agenda lurking underneath.

After a beat of silence, Jean finally muttered, "You’re welcome."

Martha gave her a small nod, her gaze kind but knowing, as if she saw something in Jean no one else bothered to notice. "I hope you take care of yourself too," she added softly.

Then, without waiting for any more awkwardness to settle between them, Martha turned and left, quietly closing the door behind her.

Jean stared at the empty doorway long after she was gone.

For the first time in days, she felt something strange bloom in her chest, something almost like... A warmth.

______________________________

Logan sat stiffly at the table, reluctantly letting his mother fuss over him. Martha carefully poured a hearty stew into his bowl, clucking her tongue at how pale he looked. Hannah sat across from him, sneaking bites of bread and grinning mischievously.

"Eat, Logan," Martha insisted, sliding the bowl closer.

He grumbled but picked up the spoon.

Halfway through his meal, he finally asked, "Where did you go earlier, Mom?"

Martha wiped her hands on a napkin and smiled. "I went to visit Jean."

Logan froze mid-bite. His eyes snapped up to hers. "You what?"

Martha calmly took a seat beside him, ignoring his shocked look. "I visited her room. She was alone, resting. I wasn’t planning to stay, but she heard me and invited me in."

Hannah snickered behind her hand. Logan scowled. "Mom, you didn’t have to go to her."

Without missing a beat, Martha reached over and gave him a light smack on the arm. "Why not? I should thank her properly for having your back on that island."

Logan leaned back, glaring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. "She’s not..." He stopped, clenching his jaw. "She’s not a good person, Mom. Don’t fall for her innocent face."

This time Martha smacked him again, a little harder. "Ow!" Logan yelped, pulling his arm away.

"I didn’t raise you to speak ill of someone behind their back," Martha said sternly, "especially not a woman who went through the same hell you did."

Logan sighed heavily, raking a hand through his hair. "I know... I know. But let me tell you something about her, Mom. I don’t trust her... and neither should you."

He turned toward Hannah next, leveling her with a look. "You too, Hannah."

Hannah gasped dramatically, throwing a hand over her heart. "But Logan! She’s Jean Adams! The owner of Divine Beauty! A very successful influencer!" She giggled. "I kinda like her too!"

Logan arched a suspicious eyebrow.

Hannah rolled her eyes at him. "Silly boy, not in that way. She’s like a ’girl crush’ figure for me."

He didn’t bother replying to that. Instead, he pushed his bowl away slightly and said grimly, "there might come a day when Jean and I will clash against each other, harder than before. Don’t have high hopes about her being some saint. She’s the kind who can go to any limit for victory... and I don’t like that about her."

Martha and Hannah exchanged a look... a knowing, woman-to-woman kind of look... but said nothing.

Logan, brooding in his chair, didn’t notice.

As Logan continued grumbling under his breath, Martha watched her son carefully, her heart full yet heavy. She knew Logan... proud, stubborn, fiercely loyal to those he let close.

She also knew when he spoke ill of someone with such passion, it wasn’t always out of hate. Sometimes, it was fear. Fear of being betrayed again.

But that girl...

Martha thought of Jean’s tired eyes. She wasn’t just physically wounded; there was a sadness Jean carried, something no fame or success could hide.

Martha smiled faintly to herself, reaching over to squeeze Logan’s arm without a word. She squeezed Logan’s arm a little tighter before letting go. Sharing a secret glance with Hannah, and without missing a beat, Hannah leaned forward on the table with a mischievous grin.

"You know," Hannah said lightly, "for someone who doesn’t trust her, you sure talk about Jean an awful lot, big bro."

Logan narrowed his eyes on her. "Don’t start."

But Hannah only laughed, wiggling her eyebrows. "I’m just saying! First rule of romance novels... the guy who complains the most is usually the one who falls the hardest."

Martha chuckled under her breath, hiding her smile behind her hand. "Maybe we should start planning a wedding already," she joked, pretending to fan herself dramatically.

Logan dropped his fork onto the plate with a loud clatter. "For the last time..." he gritted out, glaring at both of them as they burst into soft giggles.

But deep down, even as he rolled his eyes and grumbled, something uncomfortably warm twisted in his chest.

And he didn’t like it one bit.

______________________________

Meanwhile, just a few blocks away from the hospital, Emma stood at the counter of a cozy little restaurant tucked between a pharmacy and a bookstore. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air, wrapping around her like a blanket against the rainy day outside.

She handed a few bills to the cashier, ordering a mild chicken soup for takeaway...something warm and light for Jean’s still so fragile stomach. As she waited, Emma clutched her phone tightly in her hand, her mind racing.

Earlier that morning, she had made an urgent call to the company’s lawyer, practically begging him to get on the next flight to South Korea. She needed someone sharp, someone she could trust to protect Jean because Jean wasn’t just her boss.

She was family. Emma knew Jean wouldn’t survive another blow if things spiraled out of control.

Hang in there, Jean. Help is on the way.

The waiter finally called her name, and she grabbed the soup carefully, wrapping it up before stepping back into the drizzle, heading straight for the hospital.

Emma walked quickly down the wet sidewalk, balancing the soup in one hand and her phone in the other. She tried again to call Jean’s parents. No answer. She tried Jean’s brother, Alex next. Straight to voicemail.

With a shaky breath, she redialed Darla Adams. For what felt like the hundredth time.

Finally, the call connected.

"What the hell, you fool! Why are you spamming me by calling continuously?" Darla’s sharp voice cut through the line.

Emma closed her eyes, steadying herself. "I’ve been calling because Jean is..."

Before she could finish, Darla interrupted coldly, "Dead?"

Emma froze.

For a second, she couldn’t speak. She was speechless.

Her throat tightened painfully. The casual way Darla said it... as if Jean’s death would have been nothing but a minor inconvenience... left her completely speechless.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

"Jean is back," Emma finally managed, her voice trembling in shock. "Safe and sound. We’ll be returning to New York very soon."

There was a long sigh on the other end. Annoyed and irritated.

"For this you called me?" Darla snapped. "If she’s alive, bring her back immediately. She’s been wasting her time in South Korea. If she had stayed here, she could have found herself a good match already. Good for nothing!"

The call ended abruptly.

Emma lowered the phone slowly, her hands shaking. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she stood in the cold rain. It wasn’t just anger she felt... It was heart-breaking.

How could they treat her like this?

How could they care so little?

Emma hugged the paper bag tighter to her chest. Jean didn’t just survive the island. She had been surviving her whole life.

And now, Emma knew without a doubt... Jean wasn’t just trapped by duty or expectations. She was trapped by the people who were supposed to love her most.

Emma wiped her tears quickly and kept walking. Jean didn’t need to see her cry. Jean needed someone to stand beside her... no matter what.