The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 66: A Speech With The Enemy

Chapter 66: A Speech With The Enemy

Their eyes locked across the room...

No surprise.

No smile.

Just quiet recognition.

Logan stood tall beside his younger sister, dressed in a classic black suit, the kind that made people feel small just by looking. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes said it all.

He hated her.

But also... he didn’t.

There was no love. No forgiveness. Just a storm between them that never really passed. He hadn’t forgotten what she did to him. Not at university. Not even now. And he had no plans of letting her forget either.

Jean held her chin up, unblinking. She couldn’t stand him, not his pride, not his arrogance... but deep inside, she knew... Logan was the only man in this room who wouldn’t hurt her for sport.

She didn’t know if that made things better or worse.

Alex leaned in, whispering, "Don’t even think of starting something with Kingsley tonight."

"I wouldn’t," Jean replied, eyes still on Logan. "Not if he starts it first."

Logan gave a half smirk. Cold and calculated.

This game had only just begun.

Just then, a hostess approached Jean, graceful and smiling, holding a beautifully decorated silver tray. On it lay a small white envelope with gold trim.

"This is for you, ma’am. From the organizers of tonight’s event," the hostess said warmly.

Jean reached for the envelope, but before her fingers could touch it, Alex snatched it.

"Can’t have you receiving love letters in front of everyone," he muttered with a mocking grin.

Jean gave the hostess a polite nod, masking her irritation. As soon as the woman turned away, she glared at Alex.

He didn’t care. With no shame, he tore open the envelope.

"Oh. It’s not a love letter," he said.

Darla, nearby and already annoyed by Jean’s presence, tilted her head. "Then what is it?"

Alex read aloud, "They want her to give a speech. About surviving the accident in South Korea. A special feature for the night."

Jean’s breath caught. She took the card from him and read it herself. It was all formal... praising her fighting spirit, asking her to share a few words at the end of the evening.

But that wasn’t what skipped her heartbeat.

It was the second name listed.

Logan Kingsley.

Her eyes flicked across the room instantly... And there he was.

At the same time, Logan received his own envelope. He held it in his hands, eyes narrowing slightly as he read.

Of course they would do this.

Pair the two survivors. Two names tied together in public. In front of the world.

Derek muttered beside her, frowning, "Ah, those annoying Kingsley shits... They aren’t even in the corporate world for that long to be celebrated. Just got lucky in business and now one of them’s giving a speech?"

Jean didn’t respond.

She kept staring at Logan... Because he was already staring back.

His expression was unreadable.

But the message in his gaze was loud and clear.

Let’s see what story you tell tonight, Jean.

Logan stared at the card in his hand, jaw tightening. The corners of the envelope dug into his palm as if mocking him. Of all the people in the world... it had to be her again.

"Why do you look like you just swallowed a lemon?" Hannah peeked over his shoulder, reading the card before he could hide it. "Oh wow. You’re giving a speech. With Jean Adams?"

Logan shot her a glare, but it was too late.

Jared chuckled beside them, patting his son’s back. "Well, look at that. Fate really has a sense of humor."

"More like karma," Logan muttered under his breath.

Martha leaned in with a knowing smile. "Don’t be so grumpy. Maybe it’s God’s plan that you two keep crossing paths. Surviving an island together wasn’t enough, now you’re sharing a stage too?"

Hannah gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "What if it’s a love story in disguise? Enemies to lovers, the perfect plot!"

Logan groaned. "This isn’t a drama. It’s real life. And I don’t want any part of it."

"Too bad," Jared said, raising a glass of wine. "Because the universe seems determined to throw her at you again and again. Maybe it’s trying to tell you something."

Logan didn’t reply.

He looked across the room once more, eyes settling on Jean’s pale figure surrounded by her family. Her fingers gripped the card tightly. She wasn’t looking at him now... but he knew she’d read it too.

And just like that, the silence between them stretched again.

Tense; familiar and unresolved.

______________________________

Jean’s heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked toward the backstage waiting room. The soft music and chatter from the ballroom faded with every step, replaced by the dull thud of her heartbeat in her ears.

She didn’t want to do this.

Not with him.

The instruction card in her hand had been clear... wait backstage for your name to be announced. She reached the door, exhaled, and pushed it open.

Just then, she felt a presence behind her.

Her body stiffened.

Turning slowly, her heart sank deeper than it already had. Logan Kingsley, sharp in his tailored black suit, was walking straight toward her, the same envelope tucked in his coat.

Of course.

He didn’t even flinch at the sight of her. Just walked past her into the room like he owned the air she breathed.

Neither of them spoke until the door clicked shut.

Then, like a volcano that had waited too long...

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jean snapped, eyes blazing. She knows why he was here, but being in the same room as him, that was her first natural reaction.

Logan scoffed. "Wow, great to see you too. Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not thrilled either."

Jean stepped forward, arms crossed. "You’re the one following me everywhere. First the island, now this. Can’t you just stay in your lane?"

"I was invited, just like you," Logan said through gritted teeth. "And trust me, princess, if I had known they’d pair me with you, I would’ve set the damn invitation on fire."

"Do it now," she said, voice sharp. "Go ahead. No one’s stopping you."

He took a threatening step closer. "Don’t tempt me."

Their eyes locked like swords clashing midair... fiery, bitter, and far too familiar. The room felt colder despite the tension heating it.

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