The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife-Chapter 193: Weaponizing Pain

Arjun grunted softly. "The MAC address shows pings from the internal Wi-Fi router on Floor 6. It’s been active five times in the past two weeks. Always late at night. Whoever it is... they’re covering their trail well. No logins under personal employee accounts. Just Emma’s."

Hannah stilled. "Can you track which workstation or laptop is using that MAC address?"

He hesitated. "I mean... that’s not exactly authorized unless it’s a company investigation."

Hannah smiled wider, voice soft as silk.

"Then let’s call it... a pre investigation. No harm in checking, right? Jean just needs confirmation before she takes this to legal. And you’d be helping us protect the company from a mole."

Arjun sighed dramatically, already giving in. "Fine. But you owe me another one of those blueberry muffins you always bring to HR."

"Deal." She winked.

Two minutes later, Arjun leaned back, whistling.

"Found it. Laptop ID cross registered to a guest workstation." He paused. "That’s weird."

"What is?"

"That laptop’s checkout history... it’s signed out under the cleaning staff registry."

Hannah blinked.

"Wait. The janitorial crew? You mean like... the nighttime team?"

He nodded.

"Yup. Which means someone used the cleaning staff’s laptop to log into Emma’s account. That’s either a hell of a coincidence... or someone’s really trying to fly under the radar."

Hannah straightened slowly, lips pressed into a thin line.

This wasn’t just sabotage. It was a planned sabotage.

"Thanks, Arjun," she said, her voice now low and serious. "You’re better than a muffin. You might’ve just saved Jean’s entire company."

As she walked away, her heels clicking with new purpose, Hannah pulled out her phone and sent Jean a message.

"Got something. Someone’s using a cleaning staff laptop to log in as Emma. And they’ve been doing it after-hours. We’ve got a mole and they’re hiding in plain sight."

___________________________

Jean was in the boardroom... the post-lunch sun pouring through the glass like it had something to prove but her mind was only half present as a junior manager pitched quarterly engagement charts.

The world around her buzzed with words like conversion rates and digital pipeline. But she couldn’t stop thinking about that login.

About Emma’s name being used like a tool. About the pain in her gut that wasn’t just physical anymore... It was personal.

Her phone buzzed in her lap.

Hannah.

Jean casually lowered her eyes while still nodding at the presenter. One look at the text and her breath hitched.

"Got something. Someone’s using a cleaning staff laptop to log in as Emma. And they’ve been doing it after-hours. We’ve got a mole and they’re hiding in plain sight."

Jean stared at the words, heart thrumming.

Cleaning staff.

Not a hacker. Not an outsider. Someone walking these halls every night.

She forced a calm smile and stood up slowly. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I need five minutes."

The second the door closed behind her, Jean power-walked to her office, locked the door, and opened her secured laptop.

Facility Access Records.

She logged in with her override credentials and filtered the data by after-hours building access. Specifically, non-administrative staff.

There it was.

Workstation Tag: GUEST-JNL-0604 Accessed: 2:17 AM, 3:03 AM, 1:49 AM — all on different nights. Logged under: E. Murray (Emma). Signed out by: MAINTENANCE-9 / ID: 2045-AZ.

She scrolled further.

The name attached to the ID: Susan.

Jean’s brows furrowed.

That name didn’t ring a bell but then again, she’d never personally met the night shift janitorial staff. It wasn’t her job.

But maybe it should’ve been.

She clicked deeper. Background check form. Clean.

But the contract agency Rina belonged to?

Spring Clean Solutions.

Jean’s spine stiffened.

Spring Clean had been a last-minute switch, approved only a few months ago when their prior agency went under.

And the person who’d personally recommended it during the breakfast table?

Darla Adams.

Jean’s mother.

Her hand curled into a fist over the trackpad. She thought her mother was helping her, trying to show interest in her achievements but it was all to keep an eye on her.

She didn’t have proof yet. Not solid proof. But the storm clouds were no longer theoretical.

Someone had opened the gates.

And Jean?

Jean didn’t know how to tackle this obstacle.

_________________________

The sky was already turning ink black by the time Jean stepped out of the building. The city hadn’t slowed... horns still blared, lights blinked, life throbbed but her world had narrowed down to a single tight knot in her chest.

She hadn’t taken Logan’s car or let anyone drive her home. She didn’t want to drive herself either.

She needed to think.

The cab ride was silent. Her forehead leaned against the cool glass of the window as skyscrapers slipped past like silent spectators. Her fingers were still curled around the crumpled copy of Susan’s employee record... folded and refolded until it was a square of suspicion pressed against her palm.

When she finally stepped into the apartment, the lights were dim. Logan wasn’t back yet. A note was stuck to the fridge in his handwriting.

"Late client dinner. Get some rest, okay?— L."

Jean peeled off her blazer, hung it neatly, and walked barefoot into the living room, her body aching with every step. Her cramps had returned with a dull persistence, but she welcomed the distraction.

Because her mind was on something else now.

Susan. SpringClean Solutions. And her mother Darla.

Her mother had walked away from her... cut her off emotionally, financially, even socially... when Jean refused the arranged merger and declined to let them take over her company. So why would she recommend a vendor?

Unless... she hadn’t expected Jean to know.

Unless it was a setup from the start.

I should’ve known.

Jean sat on the edge of the couch, switching on a small lamp. The golden light didn’t warm her but it cast enough glow for her thoughts to spiral safely.

She thought of Emma.

Would Emma have noticed the irregularities faster? Would she have caught the login anomaly sooner? Was this hole in the company Jean’s failure?

She pressed her fingers to her temples.

No.

She wasn’t going to break tonight.

Not because of Darla.

Not because of whoever was pretending to be part of her house, wearing Emma’s name like a mask.

Not because she was tired, hurting, or nearly alone.

Because if there was one thing Jean Adams had learned over the years, it was that being underestimated was her greatest weapon.

And Darla? She still thought Jean was just the daughter who ran off with her pride.

She had no idea Jean had learned how to weaponize her pain.

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