CHAPTER 163: THE BITTER BREAKFAST

The next day...

Jean was buttoning up her coat, her movements stiff and sharp as she paced across the room. Her mind was a storm... of worry for Emma, confusion over the accident, and fury that every time she tried to act, someone tried to stop her.

Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes cold and unreadable. But there was tension in his stance... like a loaded gun waiting to fire.

"I’m going to Morris’s estate," Jean announced, grabbing her bag. "Emma tried to contact me when she was in danger, and I’m not sitting here while everyone plays dumb."

Logan’s brows furrowed. "No, you’re not."

Jean froze, hand tightening around the strap of her bag. She turned to face him slowly. "Excuse me?"

"I said you’re not going alone," Logan repeated, his voice like steel. "Whatever happened at that estate... It’s not just a coincidence. It’s a warning message."

Jean scoffed, walking past him. "You don’t get to suddenly start acting like a husband now."

That hit.

Logan’s eyes flashed with something hot and unspoken. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Jean spun on her heel, voice rising. "It means ever since the bidding ceremony, you’ve treated me like I’m the enemy! Like I did something wrong by having a past that doesn’t fit your expectations. You barely looked at me. Barely spoke."

"I was trying to process what I saw!" Logan fired back, stepping toward her.

Jean stared at him. "And did you ask me about it? No. You just assumed the worst." Her voice cracked. "And now? Emma’s in the hospital. Burnt. Broken. And no one knows why. You think I can just sit here and do nothing?"

She turned again, furious tears burning in her eyes.

But before she could take another step, Logan grabbed her wrist... not hard, but enough to stop her.

His voice was quieter this time, but full of tension. "You’re not going alone, Jean. That house is filled with people who’ve treated you like a problem since day one. You think they’ll let you walk in and walk out just like that?"

"I can handle them. I have been doing so all my life."

"No," Logan said flatly, "you can’t. Not alone."

Jean yanked her wrist free, glaring at him. "You don’t get to protect me now. Not when you’ve been protecting yourself from me."

A flash of guilt crossed Logan’s face.

"You’ve been cold. Distant. Like I disgust you," she said. "So don’t stand here acting like you care about me."

"I do care," Logan snapped, louder than he meant. His hands clenched at his sides. "That’s exactly why I’m not letting you walk into that lion’s den. You don’t know what they’re capable of."

"I don’t?" Jean laughed bitterly. "You have no idea what I know, Logan."

He went still.

Jean stopped too, realizing what she’d almost let slip. Her chest rose and fell quickly.

Logan narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

Jean looked away. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Nothing."

But Logan wasn’t stupid.

He took a step closer, now standing right in front of her. "Jean... what do you know?"

She stayed quiet.

The silence between them was deafening.

Finally, Logan exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. "You’re not going to that house alone. We go together. And when we do... you’re going to tell me everything."

Jean stared at him for a long second.

"But first I want to go visit Emma."

__________________________

The clinking of cutlery echoed faintly across the long mahogany dining table. Accompanied by the scent of buttered toast and freshly brewed coffee. It was a picture-perfect morning... except for the thick tension lingering in the air.

Alex Adams sat at one end of the table, slouched in his chair, lazily spooning his eggs. His mother, Darla Adams, was seated elegantly beside him, flipping through a luxury magazine. At the head of the table sat Derek Adams, his sharp eyes fixed on his plate but his mind elsewhere.

He finally set down his fork with a loud clink, slicing through the silence.

"Alex," Derek said without looking up. "Where did you go that night from Morris’s house? You said you went out for a smoke. But you didn’t come back in."

Alex paused mid-bite. He blinked. "I came straight home."

Derek’s gaze slowly lifted, cold and unforgiving. "No, you didn’t."

Alex’s grip tightened around his spoon.

Derek continued, his tone eerily calm. "Your mother and I saw the surveillance footage this morning. Since you left from Morris’s house... but you didn’t arrive home until hours later."

Alex shifted in his seat, the cool arrogance slipping ever so slightly from his face. "I... went to a friend’s place. Had a drink. Crashed on his couch. That’s it."

"And the car?" Derek asked, deadpan. "The one you were driving?"

Alex didn’t answer immediately. His jaw clenched. "Still parked at my friend’s house."

Derek leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking ominously. "Which friend?"

"I...I don’t remember if you know him. From college. Doesn’t matter."

Darla finally looked up, her eyes darting between father and son. "Derek, please. He said he didn’t do anything. You’re acting like he ran Emma off the road."

"Did he?" Derek asked coldly, not looking at her.

Alex scoffed, trying to summon his usual charm, but it came out shaky. "You really think I’d do something to Emma?"

"I think you’ve lied three times in less than five minutes," Derek said sharply. "And if Morris finds out you had anything to do with Emma’s accident... God help you, Alex. That man will burn this family down."

"Dad, it wasn’t me!" Alex snapped, finally losing control. "She probably got drunk or something and crashed... how is that my fault?"

"Because I think you were the last one who saw her!" Derek barked, slamming his palm on the table. "Because when you disappeared, she ended up in a hospital... burned and half dead!"

Darla raised her voice this time. "Stop blaming our son without proof! Emma always acted on impulse. She might’ve driven off in a rush or..."

"Stop covering for him, Darla!" Derek snarled, turning to her. "You’ve done it his whole life, and look where that’s gotten us!"

Alex stood up abruptly, his chair screeching back. "You think I’m a murderer now? That’s what you think of your own son?"

Derek’s eyes narrowed. "I think I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore."