"Isn’t she married to Logan Kingsley now? How could she cheat on him?" One woman whispered, her tone dripping with mock shock.
The other chuckled.
"Oh, I heard it’s an old photo... back when Jean and Tyler Dominic were a thing."
They both gasped, hands covering perfectly painted lips, before dissolving into an spirited laughter.
"How is she so lucky with n? I an... she’s not even that beautiful," The first woman scoffed.
The second waved a dismissive hand.
"Oh, co on... I think n only want her because she’s from the Adams family. Other than that, she’s got nothing."
The words hung in the air, foul and petty.
Hannah felt heat rushing up her neck, her anger boiling over. She stepped forward sharply.
"Excuse ."
The won turned, startled.
"You two have so nerve talking about soone you know nothing about. Jean built her own empire before she even married Logan. She doesn’t need anyone’s na to stand where she is now. And as for her beauty?" Hannah’s eyes narrowed, her voice low and firm, "It’s sothing your cheap gossip could never touch."
The won stared at her, faces flushing in embarrassnt. One opened her mouth to argue, then quickly snapped it shut. They turned and hurried away, heels clicking against marble floors.
Hannah’s heart still pounded in her chest as she finally stepped inside the powder room.
There, by the wide mirror above the marble sink, stood Jean. Perfectly composed. Her back was straight, hands calmly resting on the cool porcelain, head lifted.
Their eyes t in the mirror.
Jean offered a small smile... not forced, not brittle, just... steady. As if the laughter outside had never touched her. For a mont, Hannah felt her anger drain away, replaced by sothing close to awe.
That’s why she’s Jean Adams, Hannah thought. That’s why she’s a queen.
Jean turned slightly, her voice soft but teasing. "Took you long enough. Were you making friends out there?"
Hannah let out a breathy laugh, rolling her eyes. "Hardly. You should’ve heard the trash they were saying..."
Jean waved her hand gently, still smiling. "Let them talk. Their words don’t feed , and they can’t break ."
Hannah swallowed, her chest tightening with respect. She moved closer, her voice lowering. "Jean... you don’t always have to hold it together, you know."
Jean’s eyes softened. Just for a second, her lashes lowered, and sothing tired, sothing terribly human, flickered there.
"I know," Jean whispered, "But tonight... I need to."
Hannah nodded, silently promising to stand beside her... no matter what ca next.
Together, they stepped out of the powder room.
________________________
As they stepped back into the softly lit dining hall, the warm hum of conversation and clinking glasses seed to swallow them. Jean’s posture remained graceful, chin lifted, as if no shadow could reach her.
Hannah walked just a step behind, quietly watching. Even after that mont of softness by the sink, Jean had slipped the mask back on but Hannah could see it now, the barely-there strain at the corners of her mouth.
At their table, Logan was waiting. His phone lay forgotten by his side, untouched; his gaze had been locked on the restaurant entrance the whole ti. The mont he saw them, his shoulders eased slightly... relief flickering across his features.
But then his eyes narrowed, dark brows drawing together.
"What happened?" His voice was low, controlled but edged with worry.
Jean t his gaze, her lips curling into a calm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Nothing at all. Just freshened up."
Hannah opened her mouth to speak, to tell him about what those won had said but Jean’s hand brushed hers lightly, stopping her.
Logan didn’t miss the silent exchange. His jaw tightened.
"Jean..."
Jean shook her head gently, eyes locking with his.
"It’s fine, Logan. Truly."
She slipped back into her seat, reaching for the glass of water in front of her. Logan watched her every move, the way her hand hovered just a little longer than usual, the slight tremor she quickly hid.
She heard sothing, he thought. Sothing that must have hurt her.
But she wouldn’t tell him, not now... maybe not ever. Sotis it’s better to keep things unspoken.
Logan exhaled, tension still taut in his chest. His gaze shifted to Hannah, silently asking, but Hannah only gave him a faint nod... she’s okay... for now.
Jean took a sip of water, steadying herself, and placed the glass down. She finally looked up at him and with a calm smile on her face she spoke. "Sorry. I must’ve kept you both waiting."
Logan leaned back, forcing a small smile. "Don’t apologize. Just glad you’re here with a smile on your face."
For a fleeting second, Jean’s lips parted, as if to say sothing more but she closed them again, swallowing the words.
The plates before them remained mostly untouched. Logan’s gaze flickered to her al, then back at her.
"Jean," He murmured, softer now, "Will you at least eat a little? For ?"
She stopped, caught by the tenderness in his voice... The quiet plea rather than demand. Slowly, she picked up her fork, cutting a small bite.
It wasn’t much, but she ate it.
Hannah watched them, sothing gentle softening her expression. Even if she won’t lean on anyone else, she thought, with Logan... she’s at least trying.
And for a while, the three of them sat there under the golden glow of chandeliers, the rest of the world fading into hushed murmurs and distant clinks... a small island of quiet solidarity in the chaos still waiting outside.
Their table fell into a gentler silence, broken only by the faint scrape of silverware. Logan couldn’t stop glancing at Jean... watching the way she chewed quietly, her gaze drifting sowhere far away every so often, only to snap back when Hannah spoke to her.
He thought about reaching for her hand across the table. But sothing in her eyes... the fatigue, the walls still carefully built around her heart... kept him still.
Then, Logan’s phone buzzed on the table, its vibration sharp against the hush. Jean lifted her gaze, startled; Hannah’s brows rose in quiet question.
Logan glanced at the screen... Priya’s na flashing and answered imdiately.
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