The door closed, leaving behind silence, the air thick with lingering fear and sorrow. Hannah exhaled shakily, stepping closer.
"Jean... are you okay?" Jean nodded, though her hands still trembled slightly.
The office felt heavy with the echo of Morris’s words. Jean stood still for a mont, palms pressed lightly on her desk, her breathing shaky but controlled. Hannah lingered by her side, eyes full of worry.
"Jean... maybe we should call Logan," Hannah suggested softly, her hand hovering near Jean’s arm. "You need him right now."
Jean shook her head, the blonde strands brushing against her cheeks.
"No," she whispered, gathering the papers scattered on her desk, her movents deliberate. "If I call him, he’ll rush over and leave everything. I don’t want that."
She paused, eyes lingering on the door Morris had stord out of, her mind replaying his haunted face.
"I’ll go to him," She decided, her voice steadier now. "It’s better if I talk to him in person."
Hannah hesitated, then offered a quiet smile. "Then let’s get ready. I’m coming with you."
Jean glanced at her... grateful, but still proud. "You don’t have to... It’s my problem Hannah."
"But I want to," Hannah cut in gently. "Besides... you shouldn’t face anything alone anymore and I care about Emma too."
A faint warmth flickered in Jean’s chest. Without another word, she gathered the docunts she might need, checked her reflection in the glass... smoothing her dress, fixing the slight smudge in her lipstick. Her brown eyes t her own reflection, and for a second, she saw the trembling girl she used to be. She exhaled deeply, letting that fear slip away.
’Not anymore,’ she reminded herself. ’I have people beside now.’
Hannah handed her a light coat, sensing the autumn chill outside.
"Co on, let’s go," She said, her voice tinged with gentle resolve.
Together, the two won stepped out of the office... heels clicking in quiet rhythm down the marble hallway. The staff turned and respectfully lowered their heads as Jean passed. Even with the recent chaos, her posture remained composed, her chin held high.
Outside, the car was already waiting. Hannah opened the door, and Jean slipped in, staring ahead with silent determination.
’Logan...’ she thought. ’I just need to see your face right now.’
As the cityscape blurred past the window, Jean’s heart beat faster... not out of fear this ti, but out of sothing gentler, sothing that felt like hope.
_______________________
The ride to Logan’s building had been quiet, yet Jean’s mind roared louder than ever. Emma is missing... I have to find her. Before Alex does. Before anyone else does.
As the elevator rose floor by floor, Jean replayed every possibility, every clue. She needed Logan. Not just as her husband... but as the only person who could truly stand beside her in this storm.
When they stepped into the sleek marble lobby of Kingsley Tower, the staff imdiately recognized her.
"Good morning, Mrs. Kingsley," one greeted, bowing respectfully. "Miss Kingsley," another nodded toward Hannah.
Jean offered a faint smile, polite but distant. This was only her second ti stepping into Logan’s domain. The first ti... she had co to ask for a marriage of convenience, her heart an armored shell. Now she was here again... not for herself, but to ask him to help find Emma.
The elevator chid as they reached the top floor. Stepping out, Jean’s eyes instinctively searched for Henry’s familiar presence. His seat, usually occupied, was empty.
Where’s Henry? Jean wondered, an unease curling low in her stomach.
Without waiting, she and Hannah walked to the tall glass doors leading into Logan’s office. Jean’s heels clicked against the polished floor... each step fueled by urgency.
Pushing open the door, she was ready to speak, the words at the tip of her tongue. But the sight before her made the words die in her throat.
A young woman stood behind Logan’s chair, leaning close. Her hand lightly brushed the top of the chair as she pointed sothing out on his computer screen. Her posture was casual, her proximity uncomfortably intimate... like soone who had the right to be that near.
Jean’s chest tightened.
For a brief, unreasonable mont, the world felt distant... muffled, like sound underwater.
Logan, from where he sat, hadn’t yet noticed Jean’s presence. His eyes were on the screen, expression focused.
Hannah, sensing the sudden tension beside her, glanced at Jean... Brows knitted in confusion.
What am I doing? Jean scolded herself silently, forcing her feet to move forward. I’m not here to watch him. I’m here to ask for his help. For Emma.
But even so, sothing about seeing another woman stand that close to Logan... sothing about how familiar it looked... made Jean’s heart feel heavier than she expected.
She drew in a slow breath, finding her voice again.
"Logan," She called, her tone calm but cool. "Can we talk?"
Logan’s head lifted at once, and the brief flicker of surprise in his eyes quickly softened into sothing warr when he saw her. He stood up imdiately.
"Jean?" His voice held surprise and relief. "Of course."
Jean kept her expression composed, but her knuckles were white around the folder she carried.
She wasn’t here for jealousy. She was here for Emma.
The mont Logan saw Jean’s face... that quiet steel behind her eyes... his expression changed. Without missing a beat, his gaze flicked toward the woman beside him.
"Amara, give us a mont. Wait outside," He instructed, voice firm but polite.
The woman... Amara hesitated for a breath, her eyes darting to Jean and then back to Logan. She offered a brief nod, gathered her tablet, and stepped aside, the soft click of the door closing behind her leaving the room wrapped in silence.
Jean kept her eyes on Logan. She had co here determined to speak about Emma, but the words that tumbled from her lips first were not what she planned.
"Who is she?"
Jean asked, her voice low but edged, betraying sothing even she didn’t want to admit.
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