The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife-Chapter 223: THE YATCH PARTY: PART 6

He stepped forward, reaching for her hand, but she flinched back, just an inch. Enough to make his heart sink.

"I know what it looks like," she whispered, staring somewhere past his shoulder. "But I’ve never... I never had sex with anyone." The air tasted bitter, her mouth dry. Her voice shook. "But now... I only want you. Only you."

She didn’t dare look at him, afraid of what she might see... relief, pity, or worse... disbelief.

For a breath, he stayed still.

Then, quietly, as if afraid to startle her, he stepped close enough that she could feel his warmth.

His voice was rough, low, almost hoarse. "Jean... look at me."

She hesitated, then lifted her gaze.

And when she did, she saw it, the pain in his eyes, yes but deeper still, an anger not at her, but for her. And something softer, almost breaking.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, voice cracking. "I shouldn’t have doubted. Even for a second."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The breeze off the water felt too cold against her skin. Logan’s gaze pinned her in place his eyes searching for hers, almost desperate.

"Jean," he asked quietly, voice taut with something she couldn’t name, "did Tyler ever... try to do something to you? Against your will?"

The question sliced through the air, cutting straight to a place she had buried so deep she sometimes convinced herself it wasn’t there.

Her lips parted.

The truth burned on the tip of her tongue.

Yes. He did. He took everything from me. He raped me!

She wanted to say it. To tell him how she was barely nineteen, how Tyler had cornered her, stolen every piece of her, and left her with nightmares that never faded.

She wanted to tell him how her parents had told her to keep quiet... for the family name, for the company, for the sake of "moving on." How the police had looked the other way. How silence had been forced on her, wrapped around her like chains.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Her throat tightened until she could barely breathe. She saw Logan waiting... wanting something, anything from her. And she couldn’t give it.

Jean’s silence cut deeper than a confession.

The way her shoulders curled in, the way her eyes shifted... like she was bracing for a blow that wouldn’t come. It wasn’t guilt he saw. It was fear. Old, deep, bone deep fear.

But she wouldn’t speak.

Why won’t she tell me? The thought clawed at him, frustration warring with helplessness. He wanted to break that silence for her. To fight whatever ghost still chained her.

"Okay, Jean..." he breathed out, voice low, strained. "I got it."

She lifted her gaze, startled by his suddenly aggressive tone.

"This Tyler, I understand now that he’s hurt you somehow, hasn’t he?" His jaw clenched, eyes darkening. "And he’s obsessed with you. I understand that too."

For a moment, he paused, as if hoping she’d stop him, say something... anything.

But Jean stayed silent, trembling.

She wanted to reach out, to say don’t go. To finally speak the truth.

But the chains were still there... forged from years of fear, shame, and the crushing weight of being told to stay silent.

And so nothing came out.

Logan’s chest burned with a fury he couldn’t contain. If Jean couldn’t speak, he would speak for her.

"So tonight, I’ll let him know to never, ever mess with you again." His voice was like steel wrapped in quiet rage.

Then he turned on his heel, walking away with quick, sure steps... leaving Jean staring after him, eyes wide in shock, breath caught in her throat.

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The moment Logan turned away, something in Jean’s chest seized with panic.

She stood frozen for a second, the weight of old fear pressing down so hard she almost couldn’t move. Then her pulse kicked, thundering in her ears. No... he can’t. Not him. Not now.

Her heels scraped against the deck as she broke into a half running and half dragging herself, chasing after the tall, broad figure cutting through the sea of glittering guests.

She could see the anger in his stride... shoulders squared, fists clenched at his sides. Logan’s calm was gone; in its place was a storm brewing, and she knew exactly where it was headed.

Up ahead, Tyler Dominic stood near the rail, swirling a drink in his hand. Even from behind, Jean saw the smirk tug at the corner of his mouth... as if he could feel Logan coming.

Tyler turned slightly, gaze flicking over his shoulder, and their eyes locked. For a second, Tyler’s smirk widened; taunting, almost welcoming the confrontation.

Jean’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. She wove around a cluster of guests, ignoring startled looks, her breath coming quick and shallow.

Logan, don’t...

She reached them just as Logan stepped into Tyler’s space, towering over him, his voice a low growl Jean barely caught over the music and laughter.

"We need to talk. Now."

Tyler raised an eyebrow, still wearing that infuriatingly calm smile. "Well, if it isn’t the loyal husband. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Logan didn’t flinch. "Don’t play games with me. Whatever you think you’re doing, whatever the hell that photo was... it ends now."

Tyler tilted his head, feigning surprise. "Photo? Oh, you mean that memory. It’s hardly my fault if your dear wife has a past, Kingsley."

Jean sucked in a sharp breath, her stomach twisting. Logan’s fists clenched tighter, his knuckles paling.

"One more word..." Logan started, voice shaking with barely contained rage.

Jean grabbed his sleeve, breathless.

"Logan, please... don’t do this here."

Logan didn’t look at her right away. His jaw worked, throat bobbing as if he was swallowing every curse he wanted to spit out. Finally, his gaze dropped to her hand clutching his sleeve.

When their eyes met, Jean’s chest tightened. There was hurt in his eyes and confusion but above all, there was still that protective fire burning so fiercely it almost scared her.

Tyler chuckled softly, breaking the moment. "Sweet, isn’t it? The silent wife and the overprotective husband."