Last night at the restaurant
Brandon Carter sat across from Jean, his expression smug, as if he had already won. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and gave her a condescending smile.
"You don't need to think about this too much, Jean. A woman like you needs a man like me," he said smoothly. "Your mother understands that, which is why she arranged this dinner. You should be grateful she's looking out for your best interests."
Jean lifted her wine glass, swirling the liquid slowly before taking a deliberate sip. She had already decided how this night would end, but she let him speak… if only to amuse herself.
"You expect me to be grateful?" she echoed, setting the glass down with a soft clink.
Brandon smirked, adjusting the cuffs of his designer suit. "Of course. I have wealth, influence, and the power to give you a life of ease. You just need to understand your role. My wife will respect me, support me, and follow my lead without unnecessary… opinions."
Jean exhaled slowly, staring at him for a moment. Then, with calm precision, she placed her napkin beside her plate and stood up.
Brandon blinked, caught off guard. "Where are you going?"
Jean picked up her clutch and straightened her dress. "Anywhere but here."
Brandon's expression hardened. "Jean, sit down."
She turned her back to him, already walking away. "I don't take orders, Brandon."
He made a move to stand, but the sharp sound of her heels against the marble floor drowned out any pathetic attempt he had to salvage his pride. She didn't glance back… not once.
As she strode past the other tables, she felt the weight of an all-too-familiar gaze on her. She knew exactly who was watching.
Logan Kingsley.
Jean didn't acknowledge him. She didn't need to.
She had said everything she needed to say… with her actions.
The next day
The dreading air in the dining room was thick with tension.
Jean could feel it the moment she stepped inside. The heavy silence, the clinking of silverware against fine china, the sharp glares piercing through her skin, it was all too familiar. Yet, this morning felt different. It felt worse.
Her mother, Darla Adams, sat at the head of the table, perfectly composed, except for the tight grip on her teacup. Jean had seen this look before, the eerie calm before a violent storm.
"You ungrateful girl," Darla spat, her voice slicing through the quiet like a whip. "Do you even realize what you've done?"
Jean didn't respond. She simply pulled out her chair, sitting down as if the world wasn't about to collapse around her.
Her father, Derek Adams, folded the newspaper with deliberate slowness and set it aside. He didn't even look at her as he spoke. "Brandon Carter called me this morning."
Jean's stomach twisted.
"Do you know what he said?" her mother continued, her voice rising. "He said you rejected him… humiliated him."
Jean let out a slow breath, keeping her expression unreadable. "I didn't humiliate him. I simply told him I wasn't interested."
A sharp sound echoed in the room… her mother slamming her cup onto the saucer. "And what exactly makes you think you have the luxury to decline?"
Her elder brother, Alex, who had been silently scrolling through his phone, finally spoke. "Honestly, Jean, do you even think before you act?" His tone was laced with irritation. "Brandon Carter is one of the most influential businessmen in the city. Aligning with him would have been beneficial."
Jean clenched her fists under the table. "Beneficial for whom?"
"For the family, obviously," Alex scoffed, as if her question was absurd.
Derek sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're twenty-seven, Jean. How long do you plan to keep up this childish behavior?"
Jean swallowed the sharp retort that burned on her tongue. She knew how this conversation would go. No matter what she said, it would never be enough.
Her mother's eyes bore into her, filled with cold disappointment. "We have done everything for you, and this is how you repay us?"
Jean met her gaze, refusing to look away. "Everything for me? Or everything for the image of the Adams family?"
Darla's face twisted in fury. "Don't start with your nonsense!"
Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.
Jean had ruined another date. And in their eyes, she had ruined them.
Again.
Jean felt her chest tighten as the weight of their words bore down on her. It was always the same, her mother's disappointment, her father's indifference, and Alex's condescending tone. But today, something inside her snapped.
Before her mother could throw another insult, Jean's chair scraped against the floor as she stood abruptly. "Enough."
Darla's lips parted in shock, but Jean didn't give her a chance to speak.
"You keep treating me like I'm nothing more than a pawn for this family's gain." Her voice was calm, but her hands trembled at her sides. "You talk about loyalty and duty, but do you want to hear about betrayal?"
The air shifted.
Jean's heart pounded as she let her gaze sweep over the faces of her so-called family. Her father stiffened, his grip tightening around his coffee cup. Alex stopped scrolling his phone, his eyes narrowing. And her mother, the ever-poised Darla Adams… went unnaturally still.
Oh, they knew where this was going.
Jean took a step forward, her voice dangerously quiet. "Do you really want me to remind you of the one thing you've spent your entire lives hiding?"
Darla's nails dug into the tablecloth, her breathing uneven now. "Jean." It was a warning. A plea.
Jean let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, so now you want me to be quiet?" She tilted her head, a cold smirk playing on her lips. "I wonder what would happen if I stopped protecting your precious secret. If I let the world see the truth behind the Adams family's perfect image."
Her father's jaw clenched. Alex looked between them, suspicion flashing in his eyes.
Jean had never spoken about it before. Never dared. But now, after years of being suffocated, after being blamed, judged, and controlled, she was done.
The fear in her mother's eyes was the sweetest satisfaction Jean had ever felt.
"Try to control me again," Jean murmured, voice sharp as glass. "And I will ruin you."
The room was silent. No one dared to move.
For the first time in her life, Jean saw something she never thought she'd witness… her mother looked powerless.
She turned on her heel, stepping away from the suffocating weight of their presence. "Breakfast is over," she muttered, striding out of the room without a single glance back.
She had won this round. But she knew this was only the beginning.
Driving to her office Jean suddenly felt uncomfortable. Her stomach growled in hunger and that's when she realised she didn't get to have even a bite today. Luckily, she found a cozy coffee shop and without wasting any time she got out of the car.
Jean's heels clicked against the pavement as she stepped out of her car, her stomach twisting… not in nerves, but in hunger. She hadn't touched a single bite at breakfast. Not that she could, with her mother's shrill accusations still ringing in her ears.
Ungrateful. Irresponsible. Embarrassment.
The words replayed in her head, but she shook them off. She had bigger problems, like the way her stomach growled again, demanding attention.
Spotting this cozy café on the corner, she felt lucky but only to groan inwardly at the long line stretching toward the counter. Of course, she thought. Just my luck.
With no other option, she stepped into the queue, crossing her arms as she waited. She could practically taste the coffee already, hoping the caffeine would be enough to power her through the day.
And then…
A presence.
That all-too-familiar, irritating presence.
Before she even turned around, she knew.
"Fancy seeing you here, princess."
Jean closed her eyes briefly, inhaling deeply before facing the source of her misery.
Logan Kingsley.
Smirking. Taunting. Looking far too amused for her liking.
She exhaled through her nose, refusing to let him get under her skin. "Don't call me that."
His smirk only deepened. "You look grumpy this morning. What happened? Bad date?"
Jean clenched her jaw. I will not kill him in public. I will not kill him in public.
"Shouldn't you be off terrorizing someone else?" she muttered, facing forward again, willing the line to move faster.
Logan leaned in slightly, voice low and dripping with amusement. "But watching you suffer is far more entertaining."
Jean gritted her teeth. Coffee first. Murder later.