The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 84: Tear This City Apart

Chapter 84: Tear This City Apart

As the door shut behind them, the apartment fell into silence.

Logan looked at the wall clock. 4:00 AM.

Jean moved slowly, crossing the room to stand by the window, her silhouette outlined by the faint city glow outside. Logan didn’t say anything at first, just watched her.

The quiet between them was no longer just awkward... It was heavy. Like something unspoken lingered in the air, thick with history, bitterness, and something else... anticipation.

"Are you finally going to tell me what’s really going on?" Logan asked quietly.

Jean didn’t turn around. "You wouldn’t understand."

"I’m not asking to understand," he said. "I’m asking because I need to know what I’m walking into."

She glanced over her shoulder at him, the faintest flicker of vulnerability crossing her features before she buried it again.

"I already told you," she said. "This marriage... It’s not about love. It’s war. And I don’t want anyone else bleeding because of me."

Logan stepped forward, just enough to close a bit of the distance between them.

"You keep saying that as if you’re not the one who’s about to bleed the most."

Jean turned to face him fully now, her voice soft but firm.

"Maybe that’s exactly what I want."

Jean dropped back on the couch, her fingers clumsily brushing over the last empty beer bottle. "Damn. All out."

She pushed herself up slightly and looked around the room, bleary eyed. "I need more. If I’m going through with this marriage, I can’t do it sober."

That made Logan freeze.

The words stung more than they should have. He turned to her, jaw tightening. "You’ll have a massive hangover in the morning."

Jean gave a bitter little laugh. "Exactly. Then I’ll be too miserable to process the disaster I’m walking into."

Logan looked over at the cluttered coffee table. Bottles everywhere... she’d been drinking like she was preparing for a funeral, not a wedding.

Jean tilted her head, her voice slurred but defiant. "Don’t I deserve to spend the last hours of my single life the way I want?"

Logan clenched his fists. He wanted to tell her it was his last night of being single too. But Jean was drunk. She wouldn’t care, or worse... she’d mock it.

He sighed, gave her a dry look. "Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll get your damn beer."

Jean gave a lazy wave from the couch. "Bless you, Kingsley."

He shook his head in disbelief, glancing at her one last time. Her eyes were half lidded, her legs curled beneath her, still draped in his shirt like it belonged to her. Maybe it did now.

____________________________

Moments later, the door to his penthouse creaked open again.

Logan entered with both arms full... one with a chilled six-pack and a few extras tucked in for good measure, the other with soft, neatly folded women’s pajamas he’d never thought he’d have to buy.

He stepped in quietly, expecting to see her demanding another drink.

But she was out cold.

Jean lay curled up on the couch, the city lights casting a faint halo across her sleeping face. Her knees were pulled to her chest, one arm tucked under her cheek. Even with her hair a mess and her eyeliner smudged, she looked heartbreakingly peaceful.

Innocent.

Logan stood there for a long second, his heart unexpectedly twisting.

"She’s going to hate herself in the morning," he muttered to himself. But the smile tugging at his lips betrayed something softer.

For the fourth time, he found himself lifting her into his arms.

"Getting used to this," he whispered, carrying her bridal style into the bedroom.

He gently lowered her onto the bed, her body curling into the mattress instinctively. He stepped back and crossed the room to the closet, pulling out a fresh blanket. Walking back, he draped it carefully over her.

"There," he murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "Now you’re warm."

He lingered a moment longer, watching her breathe.

Then, quietly, he turned off the light and walked out of the room... heading to the guest room to get what rest he could.

The real storm was only hours away.

____________________________

The grand Adams estate was silent... too silent. The usual air of superiority that clung to its hallways now hung heavy with dread.

In the drawing room, the tension was thick. Darla Adams stood near the window, arms crossed, lips trembling despite the steely expression she tried to maintain. The rest of the family sat stiffly, no one daring to speak.

Then the double doors burst open.

Tyler Dominic stormed in, his presence crackling with rage, followed closely by his father, Daniel Dominic... the true shark in the room. Cold. Calculated. Deadly.

"Where is she?" Tyler growled, his eyes blazing.

Darla turned sharply. "Tyler, please calm down..."

"Don’t you tell me to calm down!" he snapped, stepping dangerously close. "She’s missing because of you. All of you!"

"We didn’t ask her to run off," Darla said quickly, her voice defensive. "Jean made that choice..."

Tyler’s fist crashed against a table, sending a glass crashing to the floor. "Stop making excuses!" he roared. "You’re her mother! You let her disappear right under your nose!"

"She’s not a child anymore! We can’t control her!" Darla shouted back, but the fear was clear in her eyes.

Daniel finally stepped forward, his voice calm, but it was the calm that came before a hurricane. "This is the last time we’re going to tolerate your incompetence, Mrs. Adams."

The room fell into dead silence as his icy tone chilled the air.

"We made a deal. Our families were to unite. Tyler will marry Jean. And if she’s not found in the next twelve hours..." he paused, his gaze sharp as a knife, "...you’ll wish she was dead. Because the hell I’ll rain down on your precious legacy will be biblical."

Alex paled, clutching the back of the couch for support. "You can’t threaten us like that..."

"I can," Daniel said, voice smooth. "And I will. If you don’t find Jean, I’ll bury your reputation. I’ll crush every deal you have, every connection, every whisper of your family’s name until you’re nothing but a disgraced footnote."

Tyler’s voice cut in, lower this time but filled with venom. "I don’t care about your excuses or your family drama. I want Jean. She belongs with me. I’ll tear apart this city if I have to."