The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife-Chapter 222: THE YATCH PARTY: PART 5

Jean took the phone, confusion still in her eyes until the photo filled the screen.

She froze.

Her breath caught painfully in her throat. Her skin went cold, blood draining from her face.

"W-What...?" The pen she still clutched slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the floor.

She stared at the photo. Her face is soft in sleep but in reality she was passed out in shock, her body was bare and her shoulders exposed. Tyler beside her, half smiling, his hand clearly holding the camera.

Jean’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

Why God? Why?

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The phone slipped from Jean’s numb fingers, landing face down on the carpeted deck. Her knees gave away as she broke down on the ground.

She couldn’t breathe. The pounding of her heart drowned out everything, even Logan’s voice, concerned and urgent, asking her to say something.

"Jean." Logan’s hands caught her arms, steadying her. His grip was gentle, but there was barely contained rage trembling under his skin.

She tried to speak, her lips dry in fear, her voice came out as a raw whisper. "That photo... it’s real. Logan, it’s real!"

Logan’s brow furrowed, confusion and pain battling in his eyes. "What do you mean real?"

Jean’s chest heaved painfully. She could barely force the words out, her throat closing as if wrapped in barbed wire. "Tyler... he must have taken it," she whispered. "When he was... when he robbed me of my... Back then... When I was... when I was passed out with drug and pain."

Saying it felt like tearing open old wounds... wounds she’d sewn shut so tightly even she barely dared look at them. But the image was burned into her mind now. She could see herself, laying there unconscious, vulnerable with nothing on her violated skin; and him, smiling next to her as if it were a trophy. "He... must have kept it. All these years. Waiting for the main moment."

A single tear rolled down her cheek. Not because she was weak, but because the past she’d fought so hard to bury had clawed its way back, monstrous and alive.

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He stood frozen, her words echoing in his skull. Yet nothing made sense. All he could understand is... Tyler is not right in his head. This is the second time he had shown his grovelling intentions against Jean.

Every muscle in his body coiled tight, screaming to protect her, to destroy Tyler, to erase that pain from her eyes.

His chest burned. She was so young... she had no one... and that bastard Tyler is another person who is tormenting Jean. Logan swallowed hard, pushing back the rage that threatened to blind him. His voice dropped, hoarse. "Jean, look at me."

Her wide, shattered eyes lifted to meet his.

"This isn’t your fault," he said, voice low but fierce. "Not then, not now. You hear me? None of this is your fault."

She tried to nod, but another sob shook through her.

Logan pulled her into his chest, his arms wrapping around her small frame protectively. He pressed his lips into her hair, forcing himself to speak through the fury tightening his throat. "I swear to you, Jean... I’m going to end this. I’m going to make sure he can never hurt you again."

For a moment she tried to breathe steadily, she stayed stiff in his embrace. Then, again trembling, she buried her face into him... clinging to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

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Jean felt her breath catch as Logan’s eyes met hers.

For a moment, there was nothing. No words, no sound... just the low thrum of music and distant chatter from the yacht deck. Then, in the space between heartbeats, she saw it. She felt the doubt in his eyes.

A faint crease between his brows. A question he hadn’t spoken but it clung to him all the same.

Why? That’s the question in his eyes.

Her chest tightened painfully. One part of her wanted to pretend she hadn’t noticed. To keep holding on to that illusion... that Logan believed in her completely. But pretending had never brought her peace. Not really.

She swallowed hard, the taste of hurt and shame rising in her throat. "You’re doubting me."

The words pierced through him sharper than any accusation. "Jean..." he started, but the words tangled in his mouth. Because she was right.

He hated himself for it, but the thought had crossed his mind. Not because he thought so little of her but because he’d been blindsided before, and the photo felt so damning, so real.

If she was with Tyler once... then why hide it?

But deep down, something felt wrong about that idea, too. Jean wasn’t someone who lied easily. And she had always, always recoiled from any man’s touch... except his. She confessed it! But the photo says different story.

Still, he saw how his silence hurt her. How it cut deeper than anything he could have said.

She drew a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "It’s okay," she said, though it wasn’t. "I can see it in your eyes Logan."

Logan denied, "it’s not like that Jean... I’m not mad at you."

The words trembled on her lips, like they’d been waiting years to come out. Her chest felt tight, as if wrapped in iron bands. "You’re asking yourself... if I never let any man touch me, why does this photo exist?"

She looked down, unable to meet his gaze, her heart thundering painfully. "The truth is... I don’t know when that photo was taken. I don’t remember it. Because that night... I wasn’t... I was drugged."

Her voice broke on the last word, like something sharp had cracked inside her.

He watched her shoulders curl in on themselves, as if she was trying to become smaller, to disappear from his sight. It twisted something deep inside him.

The urge to pull her close, to shield her from every stare, every whisper... it burned in his chest.

And guilt... thick, suffocating guilt... crashed over him. How could I even let the thought cross my mind?