The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife-Chapter 213: A treat from Sister In Law

"Nervous?"

"Why would I be?" Jean asked, a little too quickly. "It’s just, I don’t know what the world is thinking about me and my family. All these times I have been faking that I belong to a happy family but now that the truth is out... I don’t know what to do anymore." She shook her head, "... Anyway, leave it. I’m fine."

"Mm." He didn’t press. Just squeezed her fingers gently, as if to say even if you are, it’s alright.

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The car slowed as they approached the tall glass facade of her company building. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Jean’s breath caught... the sight of it always made something tighten in her chest. Pride. Responsibility. And lately, dread.

Logan glanced out the window, then back at her. "Remember," he murmured, leaning a little closer, "I’m just one call away if they try anything."

Jean met his gaze, surprised at the softness behind the words. "Logan, I can handle it," she said, though her voice lacked its usual steel. "I’m used to it."

"I know." His lips curved, a softer smile now. "But you don’t always have to."

The car stopped.

Jean gathered her things, but before she could reach for the handle, Logan’s hand caught hers.

"Hey."

She turned, and the sight of his tie perfectly knotted, hair neatly swept back, eyes so very manly, just like typical Logan... made her chest tighten.

"About last night," he said, voice lower now, teasing warmth back in his gaze. "I still expect you to make it up to me."

Her eyes widened. "Logan... in front of my building?"

He leaned in, brushing a light kiss to her cheek. The brief contact set her skin tingling.

"Focus on your day first," he whispered near her ear, the faint scrape of his breath making her shiver. "Then tonight, we’ll talk about my... blue balls."

Jean swatted lightly at his shoulder, scandal and heat rising in equal measure.

He chuckled, then leaned back, all easy confidence again. "Go," he said gently, nodding toward the glass doors.

Jean stepped out, clutching her files to hide the flutter in her chest. As the automatic doors closed behind her, she glanced back.

Logan was still watching... one hand resting on the window, unreadable eyes tracking her every step. She could feel it.

_________________________

The afternoon sun cast a soft glow through the office windows, dust motes swirling lazily in the light. Jean sat behind her desk, reviewing a thick stack of reports, when there was a hesitant knock at her door.

Hannah peeked in, tablet hugged to her chest. "Got a minute?"

Jean glanced up, surprised at her little sister-in-law’s serious expression. "Come in."

Hannah stepped closer, perching nervously on the edge of the visitor’s chair. "You asked me to bring the numbers from the last quarter... but, um..." She bit her lip, brows knit. "Some of this isn’t adding up for me."

Jean set aside her pen, leaning forward. "Show me."

Together they went over the projections, the dips and spikes, the parts Emma usually handled without blinking. Jean guided Hannah through it gently, explaining the strategy Emma used to spot hidden patterns and correct them early.

Hannah’s frown slowly eased into understanding, her eyes lighting up. "Oh... that’s why Emma always checked supplier data twice!"

"Exactly," Jean nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "It isn’t just about numbers on a sheet... it’s about the story they’re telling you."

They worked side by side for over an hour, Jean catching herself slipping into Emma’s old teaching tone... calm, patient, encouraging.

And in those small moments... Hannah’s eager nods, the quiet satisfaction of seeing the pieces click for her... the weight Jean carried felt a little lighter.

When they finally wrapped up, Jean noticed the clock. Past lunch already.

"You’ve done well today, Hannah," she said, voice softening. "Emma would be proud."

Hannah’s cheeks flushed with a shy smile. "Thank you... really. I know I still have a lot to learn."

Jean hesitated, then decided. "Come on. Let’s go out."

"Out?" Hannah echoed, surprised.

"Lunch. Or, well... late lunch," Jean corrected, standing to grab her bag. "You’ve earned it. Your favorite place, my treat."

Hannah’s eyes widened. "Really? The Italian place with the ridiculous desserts?"

Jean couldn’t help but laugh at the spark of genuine excitement in her voice. "Yes. Even the ridiculous desserts."

For a moment, they weren’t CEO and intern, but two women sharing a rare, warm pause in the chaos.

As they walked out together, Hannah brushed her arm against Jean’s lightly. "Jean... Thank you. For trusting me."

Jean glanced down at her, then forward again, swallowing the words that caught in her chest.

It’s not about trust, Hannah, she wanted to say. It’s about family. And I’m learning what that means too.

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Jean expected a glossy restaurant with velvet seats and quiet music... the kind where the menus felt like ancient scrolls and dessert cost more than a week’s groceries.

Instead, Hannah led her through narrow side streets lined with old brick walls and neon signs. The smell of grilling meat hung heavy in the warm afternoon air. The breeze carried laughter, the clatter of tin trays, the hiss of oil on iron.

"Are you sure?" Jean asked, her brows lifting as she took in the smoky food truck alley. "You know I can cover anything you want. Anywhere you want."

Hannah shot her a look over her shoulder, her ponytail swaying. "And what if this is what I want?"

They stopped first at a rusty old truck selling pork skewers glazed in something sticky and sweet. The man behind the counter had a wide smile and grease stained apron; he greeted Hannah like an old friend.

Hannah ordered confidently, then turned to Jean. "Two trays and extra sauce, please."

Jean raised a brow but let herself be tugged along. Next came a tiny pastry cart where cinnamon and chocolate tangled in the air, and then an even shabbier stall offering cold beer and spicy rice cakes on wooden sticks.

Jean took a small sip, coughing at the unexpected gulp of the beer. Hannah laughed.

"You’ll get used to it," she promised, popping a rice cake into her mouth.

But why do I feel the opposite?