The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 57: Logan’s Brewing Revenge

Chapter 57: Logan’s Brewing Revenge

Jean swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. His gaze was burning, unrelenting.

"I did it all for your sake," he continued. "Went against every instinct. Signed away justice. And what do I get in return?"

He leaned in, close enough that she could feel the tremble of his breath against her cheek.

"Nothing."

Jean’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Logan’s voice dipped lower... bitter and personal.

"The least you could do is say thank you. Or does your rich-girl pride not allow for that?"

A heavy silence followed, thick with emotion neither of them dared name.

Jean slowly raised her chin, refusing to let him see the tremble in her breath. "You want a thank you, Kingsley?"

Her voice was icy, each word sharper than the last. "Fine. Thank you for jumping into the ocean like a fool. Thank you for playing the hero. And thank you for signing away your precious clean record just so you could have leverage over me."

His jaw clenched. Hard.

Jean’s eyes flashed with fury. "You think this was easy for me? You think I wanted to take hush money and play dirty? Do you have any idea what kind of hell I live in every damn day? No... you don’t. Because you only see what you want to see. A backstabbing, manipulative woman who ruins your pride."

Logan’s fists tightened at his sides. "Because that’s exactly what you are."

"Then stay away from me," Jean hissed, eyes blazing. "Go back to your perfect empire. Your spotless image. And leave me the hell alone."

"You don’t have to tell me twice," Logan said, venom lacing his voice. "After today, you’re nothing to me. You’ll get your wish, Jean. I’ll stay far away from you, as if you never existed."

He turned and stormed toward the door. His hand paused on the handle for a heartbeat...long enough to second guess but he didn’t look back.

"I should’ve left you on that island," he muttered, barely audible.

The door slammed shut behind him.

And for the first time in days, Jean finally let her shoulders fall.

She didn’t cry.

But the silence in the room was deafening.

________________________________

Late evening in Jean’s private jet...

The soft hum of the private jet was the only sound in the cabin, aside from the occasional turning of a page as Jean pretended to read the in-flight magazine. Emma sat beside her, watching her in silence for a long minute before finally asking the question lingering between them.

"Did something change between you both?"

Jean didn’t answer immediately. She turned a page, eyes scanning words she couldn’t comprehend.

After a long pause, she murmured, "Nothing that wasn’t already broken to begin with."

Emma’s brow furrowed. "But... the way he looked at you. The way you looked at him..."

Jean shut the magazine and set it aside. Her voice was brittle but composed. "We were just two people trying to survive. Don’t mistake survival for connection."

Emma didn’t press further. She knew when Jean was putting up her walls.

Jean turned to the window, watching the clouds drift past in the fading light. Her reflection stared back at her, unreadable.

But deep down, she knew something had shifted.

And that scared her more than anything.

Simultaneously...

Logan sat alone, whiskey in hand, his tie undone and collar loosened. Henry sat across from him, laptop closed, brows raised.

"So..." Henry ventured cautiously, "Did something change between you both?"

Logan downed the rest of the whiskey and set the glass down a little too hard. His answer came without hesitation, sharp and clipped.

"No."

Henry didn’t believe it for a second. "You sure? Because you’ve been staring into that glass for an hour like it owes you answers."

Logan’s glare could slice through steel. "Nothing changed. It was a mistake from the start."

Henry leaned back, nonchalant. "If you say so."

Silence settled again.

Logan glanced toward the window, eyes narrowing as he stared into the dark sky.

"She’s not who I thought she was," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Henry said nothing.

Because even in his denial, Logan had just admitted something had changed.

______________________________

The airport press was waiting, as expected.

Flashes lit the air as Jean Adams stepped out of the sleek black car. Dressed immaculately in a beige trench coat and dark glasses, she looked every bit the corporate heiress... composed, cold, untouchable.

Emma stayed close beside her, shielding her from the questions being hurled.

"Miss Adams, is it true you were stranded with Logan Kingsley?"

"Was there foul play involved on the yacht?"

"Are you two romantically involved?"

Jean didn’t flinch. She gave them the same look she gave the boardroom... sharp, decisive, dismissive.

"No comments," she said coolly, brushing past them and into the building where her world awaited.

Back in her office, everything was as she had left it... sterile, structured and perfect.

But nothing felt the same.

She walked past her assistant’s greetings, past the congratulatory murmurs for surviving the ordeal, and shut her office door.

Only then did her shoulders sink... just slightly.

She reached for the framed photograph of her team on her desk... and next to it, the unsigned marriage RSVP card her mother had left for her.

Found another suitor for you, David Radcliffe.

She turned it over without a word.

______________________________

A storm was brewing.

Logan marched through the marble halls of Kingsley Corp like a man possessed. His team scattered to give him space, used to the intensity but unfamiliar with the heat radiating off him now.

Henry caught up to him just before he reached the executive elevator.

"Welcome back, boss."

He opened the door to his office and let him inside. "You should watch this." He says turning on the TV in the room.

His jaw clenched, lips pressed into a hard line as he watched the press conference Junho apologised to the crowd air on TV behind him... the one he was supposed to attend. But he didn’t.

Why bother? He had already signed the deal. Sealed his silence with ink and swallowed the bitter taste of defeat. The hush money had dirtied his hands, and worse... it had touched his pride.

All because of her.

Jean Adams.