I Want You With Me

Title:

I Want You with Me

Author:

Kaida Sterling

First Edition:

June 2025

Cover Design:

Cálice Editorial Services

All rights reserved

All content of this work, including the text, characters, names, and events depicted, is the exclusive property of the author, Kaida Sterling, and is protected under national and international copyright laws.

The total or partial reproduction, distribution, public communication, transformation, or any unauthorized use of this work is strictly prohibited without the prior, express, and written consent of the author.

For lovers of dramas featuring older men who fall for women who've never been truly valued.

BEGINNING

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

THE END

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR

"When you learn to let go of what hurts you, you realize that happiness wasn't in what you lost, but in what's still yet to come…"

BEGINNING

Shanghai 2020

Traffic is a nightmare.

I check the time on my phone for the third time in less than five minutes. I'm running late, even though I have plenty of time. I grip the handle of my bag tightly and take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Tonight is important, and I won't let an unexpected traffic jam ruin it.

Still, a small voice in my head keeps insisting this shouldn't be happening. Qin Rui knew how much this dinner meant to us, yet he didn't even bother to ask how I planned to get there. In the past, he would've insisted on picking me up—or at least sent a driver. Now… he's simply ignored it.

I pull a small mirror from my bag and check my face. Everything is in place: precise eyeliner, soft lip color, a perfectly fixed updo. I've taken care with every detail because tonight I need to look flawless.

Finally, the taxi pulls up in front of the hotel. I get out quickly, adjust the hem of my dress, and cross the majestic lobby. The echo of my heels on the marble floor sounds like a steady heartbeat. I head toward the elevator without hesitation—there's still time to save the evening.

The golden doors reflect back a version of me I barely recognize: a woman smiling with hope, though her eyes reveal a shadow of doubt. I inhale deeply. I'm here because I'm going to marry the man I love, and that should be all that matters.

The elevator stops smoothly at the top floor, where the exclusive restaurant overlooking the Bund is located. I feel the cold brush of the pearls against my skin as I adjust them carefully around my neck. My mother always said they symbolized elegance and commitment, and tonight I need to believe that.

I slowly open the doors to the private dining room and see my parents already sitting at the table. Across from them, Qin Rui's parents are engaged in cheerful conversation, smiling as if this dinner marked the beginning of something wonderful. And in the center of it all—him.

Rui remains seated, impeccable as always. But something feels off. He doesn't look up when I arrive. He's absorbed in his phone screen, brow slightly furrowed, as if whatever he's reading is more important than everything else.

"Darling, you're finally here!" my mother exclaims, rising to greet me with a kiss on the cheek. "You look beautiful."

I smile and take a seat beside the man I love. I slide my hand gently over his arm, but he barely reacts. He glances at me for a second, offers a brief smile, and then returns his gaze to the phone.

"Your fiancée is here, sweetheart. Put it down for a moment," his mother says warmly.

He simply nods, turns off the screen, and places the phone face down on the table.

I tell myself it's fine. We're here to set the date for our wedding, and my dream of becoming his wife is about to come true.

The waiter serves the first course: a fragrant soup with ginger and fresh seafood. I lift the spoon carefully, trying to keep the unease from seeping into my thoughts. Our parents talk enthusiastically about the preparations. My mother suggests possible dates, and Rui's mother lights up at the idea of a grand celebration at a luxury hotel.

"We'll have the most beautiful wedding Shanghai has ever seen," she beams.

A wave of emotion swells in my chest. I'm about to marry the man I love. But just then, the phone vibrates again on the table. Rui picks it up immediately, and his eyes fixed on the screen with the same intensity. And he smiles. A small, fleeting smile… but real.

When he looks up, our eyes meet. He holds my gaze for barely a second, then resumes his neutral expression and murmurs,

"Work."

One word is enough to unravel me.

Of course. Work. His company consumes him entirely. He's in the middle of an important project.

"Sweetheart, do you have any date in mind?" my father asks in that gentle tone of his.

I look at Qin Rui, hoping he'll speak first. After all, this is about both of us. He runs a finger along the rim of his wine glass before answering, without much emotion:

"Six months."

A chill runs down my spine, as if an invisible shadow had crept between us.

"Six months?" I repeat, confused.

"I'm in the middle of a key project for the company's IPO. I need to stay fully focused."

No one objects. Our parents nod convinced it's a reasonable thing to do. To them, six months means nothing. But to me… it's a chasm I never saw coming.

Still, I smile. I nod, pretending to be calm. I tell myself it's okay to wait a little longer. What matters is that we're together, that we love each other.

The waiter returns with a bottle of wine. Our parents raise their glasses for toast.

"To the future marriage of our children," Rui's father announces proudly.

The glasses clink with a delicate, solemn sound. I turn to Rui to share the moment, but his phone vibrates again. And once more, he doesn't ignore it. He picks it up, scans the screen quickly, and his jaw tightens.

"Excuse me," he says quietly. "I have to take this call."

He gets up with his usual elegance, though his movements carry urgency. His steps are quick, as if he needs to get away. He walks out with the phone pressed to his ear.

And there I remain. Sitting at a table where we were supposed to celebrate the announcement of a bright future, listening to our parents talk about a wedding that, suddenly, I'm no longer sure will ever happen.

CHAPTER 1

Four months later…

The apartment is ready.

Candles flicker gently on the table, casting shadows on the minimalist white walls. The scent of freshly cooked dinner floats in the air, laced with the fragrance of the flowers I placed at the center. Everything looks perfect… or at least, I need to believe it does.

I pause in front of the hallway mirror, adjusting the dress I so carefully chose: black, fitted, with a discreet yet alluring neckline. Tonight, I want it to be special. I want Qin Rui to look at me like he used to—to remember that we're still a happy couple.

But time passes, and he doesn't show up. The candles slowly burn down, and the clock already shows over an hour's delay. I sink into the sofa, trying not to check my phone every few seconds. I don't want to seem desperate, although… aren't I already? Every minute without news is a tiny wound that keeps stinging.

This apartment, our future home, feels bigger and emptier than ever. The white walls that once felt bright and full of promise now seem cold, impersonal. In the middle of the living room, a vase of fresh flowers adds a splash of color that clashes with the stark surroundings. I thought of every detail with us in mind, imagining the home I wanted to build by his side. But this endless waiting taints everything.

I remember the first time he brought me here: he smiled, held my hand, said this would be where we'd start something new. That smile now feels as distant as in the past. I wonder if he'll ever look at me with that light in his eyes again.

At last, I hear the turn of a key. I jump to my feet, smooth down my dress, and force a nervous smile. The door opens, and Qin Rui walks in with a steady stride, without even glancing at me. He's holding his phone, as if it were an extension of his hand. No smiles, no kisses, no words. He tosses his jacket over the back of a chair and sits down at the table, as if this were just another night—and not a woman's silent plea to recover what's been lost.

But for me, it's not just another night. This dinner isn't routine. It's a quiet cry for help.

"Hi," I say, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "How was your day?"

"Fine," he replies without looking up from his screen.

I stand still, watching him. He used to greet me with a kiss when we were alone. Now, he doesn't even brush against me. I approach and rest a hand on his shoulder; he barely flinches, as if I weren't even there.

"I made your favorite dishes," I say with a forced smile. "Shall I serve you?"

"Yeah," he answers, still not meeting my eyes.

With trembling hands, I serve the food onto his plate, careful not to spill anything. Every movement is filled with care, with hope. But he doesn't notice. He chews without looking up, absorbed in the screen. Every notification seems more important than my presence.

"Do you like it?" I ask, trying to start a conversation.

"It's fine," he mutters, emotionless.

Silence settles between us like a third guest at the table. I want to scream, to shake him, to ask what's wrong, why does he no longer look at me the way he used to. But I don't. I just sit down across from him, watching him ignore everything I prepared with love.

"Rui," I whisper, "I've been thinking about something that might be good for us."

He looks up for a moment, as if my voice pulled him out of a trance.

"What?"

"I adopted a kitten," I say with a timid smile. "His name is Bo. He's small, gray, with the most beautiful green eyes. I thought it might be good to have him here, at home."

He says nothing. Just nods vaguely, indifferent, as if my words were background noise.

"He's in the bedroom," I add gently. "Do you want to meet him?"

"Not now," he mumbles, and drifts back into his phone.

The pain settles in my chest like a stone. Everything I've done tonight—the candles, the dinner, the dress, even Bo—seems to mean nothing to him. Then the phone rings again. He checks it, stands up, and says:

"I have to take this. It's important."

"But—"

I don't finish the sentence. He's already grabbed his jacket. He walks out without looking at me, without a word. The door closes behind him with a dull thud.

And I'm left alone. In the middle of everything I prepared with hope. The candles are still burning, but their light no longer warms. The dinner grows cold. And the silence… the silence becomes unbearable.

I collapse onto the sofa, feeling the weight of loneliness wrap around my shoulders like a frozen blanket. Then I hear a soft meow. Bo appears from the bedroom, walks over cautiously, and looks up at me. I pick him up slowly and run my fingers through his soft fur. He purrs, as if he understands.

"You're not going to leave me, are you, Bo?" I whisper, as tears stream down my cheeks.

Bo looks at me with those big green eyes, deep as emeralds in the wavering candlelight. There's more comfort in his gaze than Rui has offered me in weeks.

His eyes hold me—warm, quiet, and knowing—as if he understands every fracture in my heart.

And in the midst of this emptiness, only he remains small, silent… but present.

 *****

The bridal shop had always been, in my imagination, a place filled with magic.

Soft lighting glows over the white gowns hanging neatly on their racks, each more breathtaking than the last. Giant mirrors reflect brides trying on dresses, their faces lit up with joyful smiles. But today, that magic doesn't reach me. I'm sitting on a velvet sofa, hands folded in my lap, waiting for the sales assistant to call me for the final dress fitting. Beside me, Rui also sits—but he might as well be miles away.

All around us, other brides laugh as they twirl in front of the mirrors, surrounded by family and friends admiring them with excitement. Their voices float in the air, full of joy and anticipation. I watch them from my corner, feeling like an outsider in a dream that no longer belongs to me. They shine, lit from within by the certainty of a desired future. I, on the other hand, feel like an actress playing a part—pretending to believe in an illusion that fades more with each passing second.

He's holding his phone, as always. His fingers move quickly over the screen, typing messages with the kind of focus he no longer gives me. Every time a notification sounds, his expression changes, like the whole world revolves around that tiny device. I try not to look—but I do. I know he's talking to her. The same woman whose name first appeared on his screen months ago.

I remember that night far too clearly. We were eating dinner in silence, as we often do lately. Rui left his phone on the table, and when he got up to go to the kitchen, the screen lit up with a message. A name I didn't recognize popped up, along with a short text: "I need you to come as soon as possible." The air caught in my throat, and my heart started pounding.

When he came back, his expression shifted the moment he saw me holding his phone. Confusion turned to anger in seconds.

"What are you doing with my phone?"

"Who is she?" I asked, surprised by the strength in my voice.

"It's none of your business," he said coldly, as if I weren't his fiancée.

"None of my business?" I let out a bitter laugh, feeling rage and fear collide inside me. "We're about to get married, Rui. What are you hiding from me?"

He stood up and looked at me with a hardness I'd never seen in him before. For the first time, he looked at me like an enemy.

"Don't invade my privacy, Ling. She's just a friend."

"A friend?" I repeated, stunned. "Why have you never mentioned her before?"

"Because she's not important," he said, avoiding my eyes. "Don't start imagining things."

The air grew thick. Part of me knew he was lying, but I wasn't ready to face it yet.

That night, I slept on the sofa, crying silently, while he locked himself in the bedroom. Since then, everything has changed. We're no longer the couple we used to be.

"Miss Zhi, we're ready for you," the sales assistant announces, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I rise from the sofa, feeling as though every step grows heavier. Rui doesn't even glance up from his phone. I walk into the fitting room, where the dress I chose so carefully is waiting. It's beautiful: delicate lace, a graceful silhouette, a long veil that seems to float. But as I slip into it, I feel… nothing. I look at myself in the mirror and ask the question I've been avoiding for days: Why am I doing this?

The assistant helps adjust the fit, praising how lovely it looks on me, but her words sound distant. All I can think about is Rui—his coldness, how much we've changed. When I finally step out, hoping for some reaction, he's gone.

"Miss Zhi, your fiancé left a few minutes ago," the assistant says gently, with an apologetic smile. "He asked me to tell you something urgent came up at work."

A chill runs down my spine. I look at my reflection: a perfect wedding dress… with no groom waiting for me.

And then I understand. It's not just that he no longer sees me. It's that he's no longer here. Our relationship is over, even if I'm not ready to say it out loud—and perhaps the saddest part is that no one will notice it but me.

CHAPTER 2

Inside this apartment, everything is still—except for the sound of my uneven breathing and the soft purring of Bo, who lies curled up in my lap with his eyes nearly closed.

I run my hand gently through his silky fur, letting the warmth of his small body soothe me. He's my only companion tonight, and even though I should feel lonely, lost… when he's near, I feel just a little less empty.

Qin Rui no longer comes home.

It's been days since I last saw him. Every morning, I wake with the foolish hope that his silhouette will appear at the door, smiling with that carefree expression, keys jingling in the lock—but it never happens. Not a call. Not a message. Just the echo of his absence filling every corner of this apartment that, once, was our dream.

I close my eyes and let myself sink into memory, knowing full well it's like diving into a sea of shattered glass. Every image of Rui and me cuts a little deeper.

We met five years ago—not by chance, but by arrangement. Our grandmothers, inseparable since childhood, had spent years dreaming of uniting our families through the marriage of their grandchildren. I didn't agree. Neither did he. The very idea of an arranged relationship felt like an unbearable intrusion. But everything changed the night he arrived at that dinner.

Our first dates felt like pages from a romance novel: walks along the river, candlelit dinners, conversations that stretched into dawn. I remember the night he held my hand for the first time. There were no grand gestures, no dramatic declarations—just his warm palm covering mine as we walked through the crowd. And that alone was enough to make my heart race like never before.

Our first kiss happened in the rain. It wasn't planned. We were leaving the cinema when a storm caught us by surprise. We ran for shelter down a narrow alley, and between laughter and raindrops running down our cheeks, he held my face and kissed me.

"I really like you, Ling," he whispered, his forehead resting against mine.

I laughed, trembling from the cold… and from emotion. I told him I liked him too.

I breathe deeply and open my eyes. Bo is staring at me with his feline gaze, as if he can read my thoughts. His tail sways slowly, a calm, hypnotic rhythm.

"Everything's changed, Bo," I murmur, running my fingers along his back. "I don't know when I lost him."

Bo purrs in response, as if to say he's here, that I'm not truly alone.

I look around. Every piece of furniture, every detail—we chose together. We painted the walls one weekend, laughing and kissing between coats. We argued about which sofa to buy—he wanted something modern; I preferred something classic. In the end, we compromised on a grey one that now feels cold without his body beside me.

I walk slowly toward the kitchen. The two coffee mugs are still on the counter: his, with his company logo; mine, with little cat drawings—something silly I always found adorable. I move on to the bedroom. The bed is made, pristine, as if no one had slept in it. As if he had never been here at all.

I press my lips together, holding back the lump rising in my throat. Rui started changing months ago. At first, I blamed stress, work, and pressure. But now I know it was something else. Someone else.

Bo jumps onto the bed and curls up on Rui's pillow, unaware of everything. But I'm not. The bed no longer smells like him. It's no longer warm on the other side. I lie down next to Bo, curling into myself, letting the emptiness stretch out beside me.

"You're lucky to be a cat," I whisper. "You don't have to worry about love."

Bo blinks slowly and nudges my hand with his head.

It's the first time I feel lost inside my own life. I've always been organized. Since I was a child, I've made lists, planned my days, and stuck to routines. But now… now I don't know where to begin.

I promised myself I'd do everything I could to save my relationship with Rui—that I'd fight until the end.

But what's the point of fighting when the other person has already given up?

My throat tightens. I cling to Bo, letting the tears fall freely down my cheeks. I hold on to his warm little body like it's the only solid thing left in this sea that's swallowing my world.

 *****

The rhythmic clicking of keyboards and the low murmur of technical conversations make up the usual background noise of the office when I arrive.

The building is imposing glass walls that offer a panoramic view of the sprawling city from the forty-second floor. My desk is at the back, near the digital security station where we monitor the internal networks. The office breathes constant efficiency. The screens display real-time graphs, lines of green code blinking steadily, confirming everything is under control. Keyboards tap at different rhythms and voices remain low, focused on encrypted data and servers running uninterrupted tasks. From my seat, I can see the analytics team reviewing reports and the engineers fine-tuning the firewall configurations.

Everything is in order. Everything is calm.

Until it's not.

I take a deep breath and walk with purpose between the cubicles. Whatever's happening in my personal life doesn't matter here—here, I'm in control. Here, there's no uncertainty. Only lines of code, strict protocols… and digital firewalls.

"Morning, Ling," says one of my coworkers.

I look up. Xiao Wen, one of the analysts, offers me a cup of coffee from the machine. It's nothing fancy, but I accept it with a smile.

"Thanks. I'm going to need it," I reply, taking my seat.

I glance at the screen. Everything looks stable. The company's secure network is functioning normally, and the servers show no signs of trouble. No vulnerabilities in sight… for now.

Not ten minutes pass before something changes.

A sharp alarm cuts through the routine. The sound is unmistakable: intrusion attempt. I tighten my grip on the coffee cup and spin toward the monitor.

"INTRUSION DETECTED. SYSTEM COMPROMISED."

The message flashes in red across the top of my screen.

Within seconds, the office's quiet hum turns into chaos: shouting, commands overlapping, keyboards clacking frantically.

"What the hell is going on?!" bellows the head of cybersecurity.

My eyes scan the data matrix. Someone's trying to breach our servers. This isn't a basic attack. It's a blend of brute force and SQL injection—they're probing for weaknesses from multiple vectors at once.

If we don't act now, they could steal financial data and bring down the company.

Protocol can wait.

"I'm heading to the central terminal!" I shout, jumping to my feet.

My boss nods. He trusts me more than anyone.

I race between desks, dodging employees frozen in panic. The central terminal is on the other side of the floor, next to the CEO's office. It's the only machine with root access—capable of neutralizing the attack completely.

My heels pound against the floor, but I don't stop. As I pass by the executive wing, I notice two figures watching me. One is my direct supervisor, tracking my every move with anxiety. The other is a man in a dark suit, arms crossed, face unreadable.

There's no time to dwell on it.

My fingers fly across the keyboard. I open the console and start tracing the attacker's route.

"192.68.1.109 — Location: unknown."

Shit. They're using a VPN. I can't trace them directly.

"They're flooding the database with millions of fake requests!" Xiao Wen yells from his station.

I scan the code. The hacker has injected a remote shell—sophisticated and dangerous. If I don't stop it now, it'll spread. My brain kicks into overdrive.

"You're not getting into my system, bastard," I mutter, typing furiously.

I decide to launch a dynamic firewall. It's risky, but if I can predict their next move, it might work. I write a new rule to block all logic ports—except one. I leave that one open on purpose.

If they take the bait and go through it, I'll be able to trace their real IP.

I type faster than I ever have. I'm so focused I don't notice the entire office watching me.

After what feels like hours—but can't be more than a few minutes—something shifts.

The attack stops. The code freezes. Remote access has been blocked. I check the console. My trap worked. I've traced the IP.

"Location: Shanghai Financial District."

"We got them!" one of the technician's shouts.

Applause breaks out across the room. My supervisor claps me on the back with pride.

I exhale deeply and sink into my chair. I did it. But then I feel a gaze fixed on me.

I look up and meet a pair of dark, cold eyes studying my every move. It's the man in the black suit. I don't know who he is, but his presence is commanding. Arms crossed, he shows no surprise, no admiration. He just watches—like he's trying to figure out something about me that even I don't know.

Before I can say anything, he turns and walks back into the CEO's office. I'm left frowning.

Who the hell is that man?

CHAPTER 3

The car stops in front of the building.

It's neither impressive nor modern, and there's nothing particularly remarkable about it. A five-story structure with exposed brickwork and windows that, judging by the thick layer of dust, haven't been cleaned in months. The plaque next to the entrance reads TecnoNova Solutions, a name that tries to sound innovative but does little to hide the truth: this company is on the verge of collapse.

I step out of the car and adjust the knot of my tie. The dark, impeccable suit contrasts sharply with the modest surroundings. I'm not here out of pity or sentimentality. I'm here because somewhere within these deteriorating walls, there might be something worth saving. Something that, with the right investment and a radical restructuring, could become a valuable asset in my portfolio.

The owner of the company, a middle-aged man in a brown suit with a smile far too eager, greets me at the door.

"Mr. Han, it's an honor to have you here," he says, extending his hand with enthusiasm bordering on desperation.

I shake his hand firmly, without returning the smile. I haven't come to make friends.

"Mr. Fu," I reply in a neutral tone. "I hope this meeting proves productive."

Fu nods energetically and leads me into the building. The lobby is small, with worn linoleum flooring and an empty reception desk. There's no receptionist, no security, not even a sign pointing at the correct direction. He notices my critical glance and hurries to justify himself.

"We've had to cut back on a few things," he explains with a nervous laugh. "But our team is excellent. I assure you; you won't find a more dedicated group."

I don't respond. I don't waste words on unnecessary excuses.

We take an old elevator that cracks with every floor. Fu keeps talking, filling the silence with a stream of information about the company's history.

"TecnoNova was founded fifteen years ago," he begins as the elevator ascends slowly. "We started as a small startup specializing in software solutions for SMEs. We had some pretty good years, although the competition is fierce and, lately, things have gotten a bit complicated."

Complicated. A polite way of saying they're on the brink of ruin. You don't need to be an expert to see it—the building, the skeleton staff, the lack of resources… everything screams decay.

The elevator stops on the fourth floor. Fu leads me down a narrow hallway with yellowing white walls. The doors are open, and behind them are cluttered desks, outdated monitors, and employees clumsily pretending to be busy.

At last, we reach his office. A modest space with a cheap wooden desk, two chairs, and a window overlooking a back alley. No luxuries, no details suggesting success. Just a man clinging to the remains of his project.

"Coffee?" he offers, gesturing to a capsule machine in the corner.

I shake my head.

"No, thank you."

I sit calmly and cross my legs. Fu takes the seat across from me. His hands fidget on the table. Outside, the murmur of arriving employees begins to filter in. He glances through the interior window that overlooks the open-plan office, and his expression softens briefly.

"They're like a little family," he says, trying to stir my empathy. "I can't let them end up on the street. I need this investment, Mr. Han. Not just for me, but for them."

I don't respond immediately. My eyes scan the office, reading between the lines of what he's not saying: disorganization, obsolete technology, a complete lack of strategy. This company doesn't need a savior. It needs a surgeon—someone to cut out the dead weight and rebuild from scratch.

"List your company's strengths and weaknesses," I say at last, meeting his eyes. "I'm not a sentimental man, Mr. Fu. I'm pragmatic. If you don't convince me, I'll return to the hotel and focus on my next meeting. I have another company to evaluate. Another decision to make."

Fu swallows hard. He knows he can't afford any mistakes.

"Our strengths," he begins, voice slightly trembling, "are our highly skilled team and a loyal customer base. We've lost some key contracts, yes, but we still have a presence in the market. Our software solutions, while not cutting-edge, are stable and affordable."

He pauses, searching for a way to continue.

"Our weaknesses," he goes on, with less conviction, "are the lack of investment in technology and the fierce competition from larger companies. We need capital to modernize and expand our services."

I nod slowly. It's not enough. Not by a long shot. And yet… there's something here. If managed correctly, it might have potential. The team, for example. Loyalty and experience aren't minor attributes. And the company name, while low-profile, does carry some recognition in the local market.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Fu," I say, rising to my feet. "I'll consider what you've told me and let you know my decision."

He stands immediately and offers his hand again.

"Thank you, Mr. Han. I hope you'll consider our proposal."

I shake his hand again, offering no further sign. I turn around and, just as I'm about to leave the office, something changes.

An alarm pierces the silence. Raised voices erupt from outside. Fu and I exchange a quick glance. Without a word, we both head for the hallway.

Chaos is immediate. Employees rush back and forth, orders overlap, screens flash with errors, and the clatter of keyboards sounds like a frantic downpour.

Fu goes pale. His gaze fixes on a young woman running between desks. I remain still, observing.

This is when the true value of a company reveals itself. Not through its technology or budget—but through its people.

And that woman… might just be the key to it all.

 *****

My attention locks onto her.

While everyone else is panicking, the young woman remains calm. Her fingers fly across the keyboard; eyes fixed on the screen. She's the only one who seems to grasp the magnitude of the problem—and, more importantly, how to fix it.

"Central server breach!" someone shouts from the back of the office.

You don't have to be an expert to know what that means: a cyberattack. Someone is trying to access the company's systems and, if they succeed, everything will come crashing down. Money, data, reputation—everything.

She, however, doesn't flinch. She keeps typing, focused, as if the world around her has vanished. I step a little closer, careful not to draw attention. I want to observe her in action, to see if she's really as capable as she appears.

"They're flooding the database with millions of fake requests!" cries a young man with glasses and a wrinkled shirt.

She nods without taking her eyes off the monitor.

"I need root access," she commands, voice steady. "Now."

Someone hands her a laptop. She sits at an empty desk, surrounded by cables and scattered papers. Her fingers move with a speed I haven't seen in a long time. She opens a console and begins typing lines of code. I don't understand all the commands, but I recognize the essentials: dynamic firewalls, IP rules, port blocking. It's a risky maneuver—but effective, if she knows what she's doing.

Time seems to stop. Everyone around her holds their breath. And then it happens: the screens stop flickering, the alarm falls silent, and the office is plunged into stillness… until someone shouts:

"We did it!"

Applause erupts. She leans back in her chair and exhales deeply. A smile forms on her face—relief, and something more. I can't tell if it's pride or satisfaction, but whatever it is… it's fascinating.

Mr. Fu appears beside me, his tie askew and his face drenched in sweat.

"God… I don't know what we'd do without Ling," he mutters, watching her with admiration.

Ling. So that's her name...

"Mr. Fu," I say, turning to him. "We need to talk."

He looks at me, startled, but nods. We return to his office and sit across from each other. Fu fidgets with a few papers, visibly uneasy. I, on the other hand, am calm. I've already made my decision.

"I'm going to invest in your company," I announce bluntly.

He stares at me, mouth open.

"Seriously?" he asks, voice trembling.

"Yes," I reply. "But you have a choice: accept the original price or take double."

"Double?" he repeats, stunned.

"Exactly."

"And what would I have to do?"

People like this would sell their soul for money. I don't want him. I want hers.

"I need all the information available on the young woman who just solved the problem."

"Zhi Ling?"

I nod. No need for further confirmation.

"What do you want to know?" he asks cautiously.

"Everything. And when I say everything, I mean every detail, no matter how trivial it may seem."

"Even… her personal life?" he adds, confused.

"Everything."

I see the internal struggle on his face. His conscience tells him to refuse, but that other voice—the pragmatic one—reminds him that with double the offer, he won't just save the company. He'll relaunch it.

"When do you need it?"

"When do you want the money in your account?"

"You'll have everything I can find before the end of the day," he says at last.

I knew it. Another objective achieved. Although I'm not sure if this one will benefit me… or destroy me.

"Mr. Fu," I say, standing up. "You've made the right decision."

He rises too and offers his hand.

"I don't know if it's the right one… but it's the best for my company."

I shake his hand firmly, without betraying any satisfaction. I walk out of the office at a steady pace. The workspace has returned to its usual rhythm—employees chatting in low voices, some even laughing.

But my attention isn't on them. It's on her.

I watch from a distance as she speaks with a colleague. She doesn't know I'm watching. She doesn't know I've just changed the course of her life.

But she'll know soon enough.

CHAPTER 4

The ticking of the clock echoes in the silence, marking the passage of time with a relentless rhythm that seems to bounce inside my head. I'm sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, a glass of water in my hands, while Bo curls up beside me. His steady breathing and constant purring are the only comfort I have tonight.

The apartment is dimly lit, illuminated only by the faint glow of the television, playing a muted news channel. On the coffee table sits an unlit candle and the remnants of a dinner I never touched. I cooked out of habit, on autopilot, but when I served the food, I realized I was alone.

Again.

I glance at the dining table, where two untouched glasses still rest. The bottle of wine remains unopened. I had prepared dinner for Rui and me, hoping that this time he would say yes. But his response was the same as always: "I can't. I have an important meeting." He didn't even bother to come up with a better excuse. Just that—blunt, cold, as if he didn't care that our relationship is falling apart.

I sigh and lean back against the sofa, running my hand through Bo's soft fur. He stretches lazily and gives me a sleepy look before purring again.

"You're lucky not to understand any of this, Bo," I murmur, though part of me believes he somehow does.

The phone vibrates on the table, and I look up, startled. For a few seconds, my heart skips a beat. What if it's Rui? What if he changed his mind? What if he's coming home? But the screen shows an unknown number. I frown and unlock it. The message is short, but its words hit me like a punch to the stomach:

"You don't know me. But I know you, and I don't think you deserve what's happening. If you want to see the truth around you, go to this address: Jinmao Tower Hotel, room 1908."

My hands freeze on the screen, and the air turns dense—heavy. Something tightens in my chest, like an invisible fist squeezing my lungs. I read the message again. Once. Twice. A third time. A joke? A trap? A mistake?

But my instincts say otherwise.

A shiver runs down my spine, like icy needles piercing my skin, warning me that something is terribly wrong. I sit up slowly, as if my body needs time to process what I've just read.

"If you want to see the truth around you…"

My vision blurs. Bo gets up, shakes himself off, and brushes his head against me in a comforting gesture. But I can't move. I can't even breathe properly, because deep down, I already know what this message means. I've just been refusing to admit it.

I stand up, though my legs tremble as if the floor beneath me has become unstable. I walk to the kitchen and turn on the tap, letting cold water run. I put my hands under the stream and then press them to the back of my neck, trying to clear my head.

I could ignore it. Delete the message and pretend it never arrived. Stay home, with Bo on my lap and the television playing something irrelevant. I could keep living the lie.

But something inside me refuses.

I bite my lower lip hard. I glance back at the living room. The phone is still on the table, the screen glowing, displaying that message like a sentence. What if it's true? A knot of rage, anguish, and something like fear coils in my stomach.

I look around. We built this apartment together. Every piece of furniture, every detail, every corner holds a part of us—our laughter, our late-night talks, the stolen kisses while cooking.

But Rui isn't here anymore. His body may still be around, but he left a long time ago.

If I don't go, I'll never know the truth. If I do… it might destroy me.

I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. When I open them, I already know I've made my decision.

I turn off the tap and look for my coat. While I do, Bo watches me, his tail twitching with unease. I pause for a second and give him one last stroke before heading out.

"I don't know what I'm going to find, Bo… but something tells me everything's going to change tonight."

The cat tilts his head and licks the palm of my hand before settling back on the sofa.

I take a deep breath, grab my phone and keys, and leave the apartment.

The cold night air hits my face, cutting through the fog in my mind for a moment. I pull out my phone and open the taxi app. My fingers tremble as I type in the address: Jinmao Tower Hotel.

A notification pops up: Driver arriving in 5 minutes.

Five minutes to change my fate.

 *****

The taxi stops at the given address, and for a moment, I remain frozen in my seat, staring at the towering building before me. The steel and glass structure reflects the city's glow, the lights flickering like artificial stars. I pay the driver with trembling hands and step out of the car, the cold night air striking my face.

I walk toward the lobby with stiff legs, as if I have lead weights tied to my ankles. Everything about this place screams luxury and exclusivity: the warm lighting, the polished marble floor, the reception desk manned by impeccably dressed staff.

The elevator doors are at the far end, and with every step, the knot in my chest tightens. My sweaty fingers clutch the phone, the room number still lit up on the screen: 1908. Nineteenth floor. Each digit feels like a sentence.

When I reach the elevator, my reflection in the metallic doors shows a stranger: lips pressed tight, dark eyes clouded with doubt, anger, and fear. I'm not the same Zhi Ling who woke up this morning believing there was still something left to save.

The elevator opens with a cold, mechanical sound. I step in, press the button, and the doors close. The ride feels eternal. Or maybe too short. With each passing second, my body tense more. Possibilities unfold in my mind like a cruel puzzle. What if it's all a misunderstanding? What if Rui really is here for work? What if…? No. No excuse could justify this.

The number 19 flashes on the screen. I take a deep breath. The elevator stops. The doors slide open and a long corridor stretches before me: dark velvet carpet, dim lights, an almost sacred silence. I walk slowly. Each step is a heartbeat. Room 1908 is just a few meters away. My breathing grows shallow and shaky. The hallway lights seem to flicker as I pass—or maybe it's just my vision blurring. Doubt screams at me to turn back, to spare myself the pain, but something inside me, stronger than fear, keeps me going.

When I reach the door, I stop. The elegant dark wood rises before me like a wall between the life I knew and what's to come. My hand trembles over the handle. And then I hear it: a gasp. My blood runs cold. I lean in slightly, holding my breath. A laugh. A woman. Then his voice. Rui's voice. My legs are weak. No. No. No.

My phone screen glows with one of many apps I've developed to play with digital security. Just one tap. One command. The soft click of the unlock barely registers in the room—but in my mind, it booms like thunder. The door swings open, and time stops.

They're there. In bed. Clothes scattered across the floor. Their bodies tangled in the sheets as if the world belongs to them. She laughs, still lost in pleasure, her red lips parted, her hair messy against her bare chest. He... he freezes. His eyes lock with mine in horror. No words. No excuses. The air leaves my lungs. My heart shatters.

And then he breaks the silence.

"Ling… baby, this isn't what it looks like."

His voice is shaky and desperate. He scrambles to cover himself with the sheet.

"Not what it looks like…"

The words echo painfully in my mind. What else could it possibly be, Rui? Rage boils over. I grab the first thing within reach—a cushion, then a lamp—and hurl them with all my strength.

"You are lying bastard!" I scream, fury taking over. "How long have you been mocking me? How long have you been a coward?"

The woman covers herself with the sheet, shrinking away as if I'm the intruder.

"Ling, please…" Rui gets up, trying to come closer.

I step back as if his presence burns.

"Don't you dare touch me."

My nails dig into my palms. The physical pain is the only thing that keeps me upright. He looks at me with a silent plea, but he can't fool me anymore. Betrayal has covered everything—love, trust, everything we were. All that's left is emptiness.

My eyes burn, but I won't let a single tear fall. I won't give him that. I turn and walk out of the room with steady steps, leaving behind what no longer means anything.

The elevator shields me for a brief moment. The doors close, and when I see my reflection, I hardly recognize myself. Smudged makeup, messy hair… and the eyes. My eyes are a wreck. I try to wipe my face, but it's pointless. The images are still there, burned into my memory. My dreams, my future, everything I built with him… now reduced to ashes.

The doors open. The lobby noise hits me like a punch. I walk fast, desperate to get out, to breathe cold air again.

As I step through the hotel doors, the chaos of Shanghai traffic greets me. I make my way toward the curb, searching for a taxi, but my vision swims. My steps drift past the edge of the sidewalk, and then I hear it—a deafening roar. A car speeding straight toward me. I freeze.

Suddenly, a strong hand grabs me and pulls me back. The force throws me off balance, and before I can react, the ground disappears beneath me. We fall together. A hard impact. The air escapes my lungs and everything spins.

I blink, dazed, trying to make sense of it. Then I feel it. The heat of someone's breath. The soft, unexpected touch of lips against mine.

When I open my eyes, I find him. Close. Too close. The surprise on his face mirrors mine. His lips are still there, just barely brushing mine, as if neither of us has fully processed what just happened. And then reality crashes in.

My body reacts before my mind can. I pull back suddenly, sitting up awkwardly, blood rushing to my cheeks. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might burst out of my chest.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, avoiding his eyes.

He sits up calmly and adjusts his suit with an almost automatic gesture. His gaze never leaves mine, and there's something in it I can't quite read. Something that cuts through me.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his deep voice echoing inside me.

I nod quickly, though I'm not sure I am. My hands tremble, and my mind is a mess. I don't know who this man is, but his presence overwhelms me. And amid the pain and confusion, his gaze stirs something I don't know how to name.

"Yes… thank you," I murmur before turning and running toward the taxi that has just pulled up.

I don't look back. I don't want to.

But as the car drives away and I glance up—he's still there. Watching me.

I don't know who he is. I don't know what just happened.

All I know is that my world, already shattered, has just become even more chaotic.

CHAPTER 5

Time has always been my greatest ally.

In business, knowing how to use time is more important than money or talent; mastering it, manipulating it, is the key to winning any negotiation

Tonight, however, I don't want to think about time. I want to think about what I'm going to gain.

As the car moves through the streets of Shanghai, I glance over the documents my assistant sent me this morning, though I can't focus. I have two missions today: the first, to find out whether she read my message and went to the hotel room; the second, to meet with a desperate businessman eager to sell a company for far more than it's worth.

But I don't care about the second one. I care about the first. I care about Ling.

I know it will hurt her. Betrayal is never easy to face. But I had no choice—removing that obstacle from her life was essential. That bastard, incapable of valuing the treasure he had beside him, had to disappear from her world. The sooner, the better.

When the car stops in front of the hotel, I lift my gaze. The building towers beneath the night lights; its glass and steel facade gleams with an elegance that exudes control and perfection. I step out of the vehicle in one smooth motion, adjust my cuff, and enter the lobby with the ease of someone who's always in command.

My phone vibrates. I take it from my pocket.

The image the hotel director sends me makes me smile just as expected, she didn't need a master key. She opened the door with her own phone.

"Proceeding as agreed, Mr. Han."

Of course he is. I made sure of that.

I glance around, searching for the elevator she'll come out of. She'll be shattered eyes swollen with fury, hair disheveled, barely holding herself together. I have no intention of approaching her. I just want to watch her reaction.

The metallic sound of an elevator opening snaps me to attention. I turn. It's the one on the right. The doors open… and Ling steps out.

I was right: her eyes are bloodshot with rage, her hair wild as if she's come through a storm. She walks quickly, fists clenched, tension radiating from every movement. A bad feeling stabs through me. That sharp instinct that only strikes when something is about to spiral out of control. Without thinking, I follow her through the hotel doors.

Something's wrong. Her shoulders are slumped, her hands trembling... She raises one to hail a taxi, but her motions are clumsy, like she's moving on autopilot.

Then it happens.

She steps too close to the street, too far off the curb. A car barrels down the lane at full speed, the roar of the engine splitting the air. My entire body reacts. I lunge toward her, adrenaline kicking in. I grab her arm tightly and pull her back. We both fall to the ground. The impact is hard, but I barely feel it. All I register is her rapid breathing, her trembling body against mine.

I open my eyes. Her pupils—deep, rich brown—meet mine with unsettling intensity. Despite the chaos, something in her gaze is startlingly clear. For a second, the world stops. The traffic, the lights, the noise… all vanish.

There's only her.

And me.

Her face is so close I can feel her warm breath. A strand of her hairbrushes against my cheek. Then it happens unexpectedly: our lips touch. A brief, weightless contact, like a breath… but enough to erase everything else. She pulls away instantly, clumsy and blushing with shame.

"Are you alright?" I ask. My voice sounds deeper than usual, as though emotion is still tightening my throat.

"Yes… thank you," she replies without looking at me.

By the time I realize it, she's already climbing into a taxi. The door slams shut. I watch her go, not daring to look back. My eyes follow the car as it turns the corner—and just before it disappears, I memorize the license plate with surgical precision. I don't know why. I just know I don't want her to vanish so easily.

"Han, everything alright?" Wang's voice snaps me out of my trance. He approaches with an easy stride, though his eyes study me carefully.

"All good," I reply, adjusting my jacket. My tone is steady, but her face is still burned into my mind.

Wang doesn't press. He knows me. He understands that if something unsettles me, I won't admit it in public. He's one of the few who gets that vulnerability, for me, isn't something to be shown. Only hidden.

We walk toward the meeting room, but my thoughts remain trapped by her face. Every time I close my eyes, I see hers—full of pain.

And something else.

Something I can't name.

Something that, in just a single second, has taken root inside me… and refuses to let go.

 *****

The door to the meeting room opens with a soft click, pulling me from my thoughts. Inside, the company owner is already waiting. A middle-aged man in a suit that screams excess more than elegance. His smile is broad but lacks warmth—more an attempt to assert authority than to be agreeable. I recognize the gesture instantly. I've used it countless times myself.

Yet while he tries to project power, I've already calculated his every move.

Wang and I take our seats across from him. The first few minutes will be filled with empty courtesies—hollow phrases meant to fill the air while we measure each other's strength. In business, every word is a move on an invisible chessboard. And I always play to win. There's no room for doubt. No room for compassion. Only strategy.

"Mr. Han, it's an honor to have you here," he says, extending his hand with a smile that never reaches his eyes.

I shake his hand briefly, without returning the smile. I'm not here to make friends, I'm here to acquire a company.

"The honor is mine," I reply in a neutral tone that reveals nothing.

He leans back in his chair, trying to appear relaxed, but his fingers tap against the table—betraying his nerves. Wang sits silently at my side, observing. He knows this is my arena. He doesn't need to intervene.

"Allow me to show you the figures," the man adds, opening a folder and sliding a sheet of paper toward me.

I glance at it for a second. I already know every number by heart. The data is inflated, designed to impress—but I'm not impressed. Nothing ever impresses me.

"Interesting," I say, placing the sheet back on the table, showing no sign of commitment.

He frowns slightly. He expected more enthusiasm. He won't get it. The longer I keep him waiting, the more pressure he feels. And once he feels cornered, he'll make mistakes.

"Mr. Han, I'm sure you understand the value of my company. This isn't just a business, it's a unique opportunity in today's market," he declares, leaning back with a practiced smile.

I tilt my head slightly, as if considering his words, but keep my gaze locked on his, unwavering. The silence between us isn't accidental. I learned long ago that sometimes silence speaks louder than words.

"Of course. But I also understand the risks inherent in acquisition of this scale. My offer is fair—generous, even—when all factors are considered," I reply firmly, without raising my voice.

It's an infallible tactic: show confidence without aggression. My tone leaves no room for doubt, and he feels it. He adjusts his collar, uneasy. Try to regain control of the conversation—but he won't. This is my game, and I set the rules.

"Mr. Han, I think you're underestimating the potential of my company," he says, trying to sound firm, though his voice falters slightly at the end.

"I'm underestimating nothing," I reply calmly, but with a coldness that cuts. "I'm simply evaluating the facts. And the facts show that your company needs a capital injection and a complete restructuring to be viable. My offer meets those needs—and allows you to walk away with dignity."

He goes quiet. His fingers stop tapping. I can see him trying to process my words, searching for a reply he can't find. Finally, he nods, resigned.

"I understand your perspective, Mr. Han," he says, his earlier confidence gone.

"I'm glad to hear it," I reply, my voice giving away no trace of satisfaction.

The negotiation drags on for hours. There are offers and counteroffers, technicalities and conditions, but it all serves to reinforce my position. In the end, as always, I get what I want. The owner accepts the terms, his expression a blend of defeat and respect.

As we shake hands, he adds one final comment:

"I hope you'll take good care of what you just bought, Mr. Han. This company has a legacy."

I nod, saying nothing. Legacies don't interest me. Only what I can build on the ruins I just claimed.

Once he leaves, Wang lets out a low whistle and leans back in his chair. He pours two glasses of whiskey from the bottle brought up by the hotel staff.

"I never get tired of watching you crush big egos," he says with a grin, handing me a glass.

I offer a brief smile, but my mind is elsewhere. The whiskey burns down my throat, but it doesn't dull the unease spreading through me. While Wang talks about integration plans, my thoughts drift back to her.

It's irrational—but something about that woman has left a mark I can't ignore.

"Everything okay, Han?" Wang asks, leaning in with a curious look. He studies me closely, searching for any sign that something is off.

"Everything's fine. I was just thinking about the next step in consolidating the acquisition," I lie, raising my glass to mask the distraction.

Wang nods, satisfied, and continues discussing projections and financial forecasts. I barely listen. I pull out my phone and type a quick message to my secretary:

"I want to know if the woman picked up by taxi license plate HZ-5821 at 19:20 has arrived safely at her destination."

I need to know if Ling is alright. That she made it safely. She can cry, scream, break everything if she needs to—but she must be safe. Her life must not be in danger.

I never intended for anything serious to happen to her…

I never intended for our lips to meet at the worst moment of her life.

And yet it happened.

And despite everything—it's the best thing that's happened to me in years.

"What are you thinking about now?" Wang asks, raising an eyebrow as he swirls his glass between his fingers.

"How much I hate wasting time," I reply, leaning back in the chair with a dry smile.

Wang keeps talking, listing figures and strategies. I nod now and then, letting him think I'm following along. In truth, I'm only waiting for my secretary's reply.

I need to know she's okay.

Only then will I be able to breathe again.

CHAPTER 6

Fifteen days later...

The city stretches out before me like a fulfilled promise. From the top floor of Tian Enterprises, Guangzhou offers me its most ambitious face: skyscrapers rising like glass spears, highways winding like living arteries between towers of steel, lights that never go out—not even in the dead of night. I've spent years staring at this same view from my office without the slightest tremor in my pulse, without emotion ever distracting me. Today, however, something is different.

I lean back in the black leather chair and let my body rest for a moment while my gaze remains fixed on the hazy horizon. The city has been my battlefield, my chessboard… and I always play to win. Since I was fifteen—since the day I buried my parents—I've fought a silent war against oblivion, mediocrity, and fragility. Every business deal, every decision, every sleepless night has been a brick in this tower that now belongs to me.

I've waited a long time. I've remained silent more than anyone could endure. Ten years of patience and calculation. And finally, the moment has arrived.

In a few hours, I have a meeting at Jardin Rouge, that colonial-style restaurant by the river where only deals worth eight digits are discussed. Today, I'll sign the contract for a project many once considered pointless: land I bought when no one wanted to build so far from the center. But now the government has given its approval. The permits are secured. I'll carry out what I imagined from the beginning: three ten-story towers, two apartments per floor, understated luxury, swimming pools, recreational areas, private security, vertical gardens. A residential complex even the most demanding families will aspire to.

This isn't just a project, it's my legacy.

The buzz of the intercom breaks the silence. I blink, not because I'm distracted, but because my mind had been buried too long in the thought of success.

"Go ahead," I reply, my voice deeper than usual. It sounds like I've just awakened, though I never truly sleep.

"Mr. Han," says Lu Wen, my secretary. "Mr. Fu has sent more information about Miss Zhi."

I open my eyes fully.

"Good. Send it over."

My tone is flat, emotionless. Lu won't suspect that I've been waiting for this report like a man waiting for a vital answer. The same day I returned from Shanghai, I contacted Fu. I wanted to know everything. I told him clearly—this wasn't about spying on her but understanding her. I needed to know whether she was suitable for what I'm about to offer her.

Mr. Fu agreed without question. I rewarded him, accordingly, signing a collaboration agreement with Guangdong Technology Holdings, one of the most influential conglomerates in Guangzhou. His small company will now have access to bids he never would have dreamed of. That's how deals work with me: you give me what I ask, and I give you the world.

I open the email. As expected, there's an attachment. I don't open the photos just yet. I begin by reading the short note that accompanies the report:

"She continues working normally. The wedding has been cancelled."

For a second, I stop breathing. Then, the air escapes my lungs violently. I hadn't realized I had been entertaining the possibility… that she might forgive him. That she might go back to him after everything. I suppose that would have been the most logical outcome. Noble women tend to forgive the unforgivable in the name of love.

But not Ling. Ling has made the only acceptable decision. Not because her fiancé's betrayal is irreparable, but because someone who doesn't protect you doesn't deserve a future by your side.

I lean toward the screen and open the images. There she is.

Seated at her desk, in front of her computer. Hair tied back, calm expression. Her fingers glide across the keyboard with precision, as if nothing had changed. Her colleagues are around her, each focused on their own tasks. It could look like any ordinary morning, just another workday. But I know what lies beneath that calm. What pulses in silence when she returns home. Does she cry? Does she blame herself for trusting?

I don't have those answers.

I move on to the next image. A closer shot. Her profile lit by the screen, her brow faintly furrowed as she reads a report. There she is—the woman who has endured without theatrics, who hasn't abandoned her routine despite being broken inside. I don't know whether I'm drawn to her beauty or her ability to rebuild herself without making a sound. Maybe both.

I breathe deeply.

I'm about to make a decision that will change many things. I know it. I'm not afraid. In the past, every choice was calculated to exhaustion: I weighed pros and cons, ran simulations, planned exit strategies. Not this time. This time, I act without a map. Because I have no interest in wasting time. Because, for the first time in my life, there is a woman who awakens something I can't even name.

I reach out and press the intercom.

"Mr. Han?" Lu answers immediately.

"I want full control around Miss Zhi."

Silence.

"Of course. I'll get started right away."

I disconnect. I rise slowly and walk toward the window. In the distance, I can glimpse the cranes in the construction district, the projects others envy and I control with a single call. But today, I'm not looking at those buildings. Today, my eyes go further.

East. Toward Shanghai.

Three hours by plane. That's all that separates us. A minimal distance, compared to the time she still needs.

It's not proximity that matters now but knowing how to wait. And although I've always despised pauses—although wasting time makes me sick—this time I have no choice. She's been betrayed. She needs to rebuild.

When the time comes,

I will make her an offer she won't be able to ignore.

CHAPTER 7

It's been fifteen days since I last saw him—since the world crumbled silently before my eyes, without shouting, without warning; just an open door, a body that wasn't mine, and his voice gasping someone else's name.

Since then, time has become an uneven line. Some hours stretch like a lament; others vanish before I even notice. I've clung to rituals: making the bed, washing the mugs, feeding Bo, working... as if they were prayers, as if maintaining a perfect routine could save me from chaos inside.

I haven't answered any of his calls. I haven't read his messages or listened to his voice in the notes he's left me. I don't need his words; I already know them all—excuses in disguise, silences dressed up as love.

And yet, here I am, waiting for him. Not because I want to see him or because there's even a shred of hope left, but for me. Because I deserve to end this without running. Because I want to look him in the eye and say everything I never said, everything I kept to myself when his kisses began to fade, when his "I love you" stopped sounding like truths and turned into echoes.

Bo sleeps curled up on the blanket beside me. His purring is the only constant, and sometimes it makes me feel like I'm not alone—that there is something, someone, still here without asking for anything in return.

The lock clicks. I don't flinch. I simply sit up slowly, my body stiff after so many hours of waiting. My heart stumbles once, then again. I wipe my hands on my thighs for no reason, and that's when I realize I'm sweating. The door opens, and he walks in.

Qin Rui, the man I was going to marry—the one who broke me—enters with measured slowness, like he's not sure if he's allowed to be here. His eyes search for me immediately. I can see the tension in him, the hesitation. His shirt is wrinkled, his beard unshaven, and for the first time in a long while, he no longer looks like the perfect man the world admires.

"Ling," he says, barely more than a whisper.

I don't answer. I rise to my feet and cross my arms. I keep my distance. I want to observe him without letting his closeness cloud my judgment. I want to remember what this rage feels like—because if I forget it, I might be tempted to forgive him.

"Thank you for letting me in," he adds, as if this were some polite courtesies.

I look at him again, this time without hiding the coldness.

"You've been gone so long you've forgotten this place is still your home," I reply, laced with sarcasm.

He lowers his gaze. His lips move, but he says nothing. He runs a hand through his hair. That gesture used to seem endearing. Today, it feels pathetic.

"I know you're angry…" he begins.

I laugh, but there's no joy in the sound.

"That's what you think? That I'm angry? Is that really your takeaway from all this? That I'm upset, like you forgot a birthday or showed up late to dinner?"

He stands still. The silence between us grows thick. Bo opens his eyes briefly from the couch and watches us.

"What happened… it wasn't what it looks like."

Ah, the classic line.

"Wasn't what? Wasn't sex? Wasn't your hands on someone else's body? Wasn't your voice whispering things that used to be mine?"

He falters. For the first time in years, I see him cornered.

"It was a mistake," he says, as if that settles anything. "A moment of weakness. I was feeling lost. I don't know what came over me."

"You felt lost, and the solution was someone else's bed?"

I'm surprised at how calm I sound, though inside, my stomach turns.

"It didn't mean anything," he insists, like that makes it less filthy.

"Did I mean anything while you were doing it?"

"You don't understand… I was overwhelmed. You were distant…"

"Because you weren't here anymore, Rui!" I finally shout. "Do you want me to remind you the last time you really looked at me? The last time you touched me without rushing. When was the last time you cared how I felt?"

He doesn't respond. He swallows. His eyes shimmer, but I can't tell if it's emotion or just defeat.

"I waited for you. I made excuses. I kept quiet. I shrank myself so you wouldn't feel suffocated. And while I was disappearing, you were out there catching your breath in someone else's mouth."

His eyes well with tears. He doesn't cry. Not yet. He steps towards me. Instinctively, I tense. His cologne hits me—that scent that used to wrap around me now makes me recoil.

"Ling, I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I'd do anything to undo this."

"You can't."

"We can start over."

"I don't want to start over with someone who betrayed me. Someone who's dirty."

"I love you."

"No," I cut him off. "You loved me. Past tense. And now you've come to rescue what you destroyed."

"You can't just erase me like this. You can't delete me from your life."

"Can't I? Didn't you erase me long before this?"

He clenches his fists. Now there's anger—frustration.

"You're making a mistake," he snaps, like he still thinks he holds power over me.

I look at him with all the pain, all the memory, and all the dignity I've gathered.

"Maybe. But this mistake will be mine—not just another one of yours."

Qin Rui turns. He hesitates at the door.

"You'll regret this."

"I've already regretted enough," I reply, emotionless.

The door slams shut.

I don't feel relief. I don't feel victorious. Only a dense silence, the kind that comes when there's truly nothing left to say. My legs give out. I collapse onto the couch, as if my body no longer knows how to hold itself upright. Bo comes over, clumsily climbs into my lap, and starts purring. His warmth is so small… and yet so constant.

I hold him. It's the first time I've cried since that night. The tears fall soundlessly, one after another, dampening his fur. He doesn't move. He just purrs louder, as if he's trying to tell me he's here. That he's not going anywhere.

"You won't fail me, will you, Bo?"

He replies with a gentle headbutt under my chin. I hold him tighter. Kiss the top of his head.

"You're the only one I trust now."

My whole life fits in with his tiny paws—and I don't need anything else.

For the first time, I breathe.

And this time…it doesn't hurt as much.

CHAPTER 8

Shanghai, six months later…

The apartment is almost empty.

The walls, once covered in photos and memories, now show only pale marks where the frames used to hang. Those traces, as silent as they are persistent, seem to watch me with the same resignation I feel as I walk through each corner one last time. The boxes stacked by the entrance stand as silent witnesses to a chapter about to close—one I once believed would last forever.

I walk slowly, as if my footsteps could knock the memories down. There's no furniture to muffle the echo; everything sounds larger than it really is. And yet, inside me, everything shrinks.

What's strange isn't sadness. Not even the nostalgia. It's something deeper: the certainty that this… is truly over. It's been six months since Rui vanished from my life. Since the last word. Since the last lie.

This apartment, which once sheltered me, which was the setting for kisses, shared dinners, and comfortable silences… no longer recognizes me. We've sold it.

My immediate destination is my parents' house. A familiar place, but one that no longer feels like mine. Going there means going backwards, losing part of the independence I fought so hard to earn. And even though I have no other option for now, I know I don't want to stay long. I need something of my own place where I can breathe at my own pace, without tiptoeing, without bothering anyone.

Bo follows me closely, as always. He slips between the boxes with elegant steps, stopping only to look up at me from the floor. His green eyes glow calmly. He doesn't ask, doesn't judge. He just is. And that's all I need. Since the day he came into my life, he's been the only bond that didn't break. When everything else fell apart, he stayed. Loyal. Constant. Wherever I go, he goes. Today is no exception.

I open the last drawer in the dresser. My hands tremble slightly. A folder. Inside, dozens of photographs. Us. Smiles. Trips. Toasts. A Rui who no longer exists, and a Ling I no longer am. I stare at them without blinking. They don't hurt anymore. They just leave a bitter taste.

Loving someone who never loved you the way you deserved leaves a flavor time never fully washes away. Without thinking, I throw them into the trash. One by one. No dramatics. No hesitation. I don't want to take anything that smells like him.

We haven't seen each other since that last conversation. Everything related to the apartment sale was handled through lawyers. As if I were a stranger. As if the years we shared had never existed. And deep down, maybe they never existed for him.

I heard from others that he married the woman from the hotel. Apparently, she got pregnant, and the Qin family wanted to avoid a scandal.

I think about it, and I don't feel anger. Just pity. For her. Because now she's where I once was. Because she probably thinks she can change him—and she doesn't know that some people don't want to change. They just want to win.

Bo brushes against my legs, pulling me out of the spiral that had started tightening around my chest. I stroke his head gently.

"What would I do without you?" I murmur.

He purrs and lets himself be held. It's incredible how such a small creature can offer so much peace.

I sit on the sofa one last time. The texture of the cushion, the scent of the fabric, the soft creak of the wood… all of it we shared. We sat here to watch movies. He kissed me here the first time he said he loved me. Here, too, he ignored me for weeks.

And now this sofa is just that: a piece of furniture that won't be here anymore.

I look at the boxes, the suitcases, everything I have left. In a few days, the moving truck will take my things to a storage unit. I don't want to take anything to my parents' house. Neither physically nor emotionally. I need the illusion of independence, even if that's all it is—an illusion.

Suddenly, the phone rings. I jump. I don't recognize the number. I hesitate for a second, but I answer.

"Miss Zhi Ling?" asks a male voice, firm but polite.

"Yes, that's me," I reply, not hiding my distrust.

"My name is Jin Wei. I'm calling from the Human Resources Department at Tian Enterprises. We've reviewed your professional profile and would like to invite you to an interview tomorrow at 9 a.m."

Tian Enterprises? I blink. I don't remember applying there.

"Excuse me?" I whisper. "Could you repeat the name of the person you want to interview?"

"Miss Zhi Ling. That's you, right?"

"Yes… but… I didn't respond to any job posting from your company."

"We know. One of our contacts recommended your profile. In fact, everything's already arranged: your flight leaves this afternoon at 4. A member of our team will pick you up at the airport and take you to the Ritz-Carlton hotel. A suite has been booked in your name."

My brain shuts off for three full seconds.

"A flight? A personal escort? A suite?"

"That's correct. Does that work for you?"

I nearly laugh. Is this some kind of prank show?

"Sorry, how did you get my résumé?"

"It was submitted by an external collaborator who spoke very highly of you. Can we count on your presence tomorrow?"

"Yes…" I reply, still trying to process it all.

"Perfect. I'll send all the details to your email."

I hang up. I stare at the phone like it might explain what just happened.

Flight booked. Hotel. Chauffeur. Tian Enterprises.

And I'm not even looking for a job.

I stare at the screen, and for a moment, I fear the worst. A scam? Identity theft? Another deception? My heart races. I feel cold sweat on the back of my neck. What's the meaning of all this? Just as I'm about to block the number, a notification appears. A message. From Mr. Fu.

"Ling, our investor asked for the company's top profiles. I sent yours. I wish you the best. You deserve it."

The phone slips from my hand. I catch it before it falls. I breathe. Once. Twice. Three times. Then everything clicks. It wasn't a trap. It wasn't a fantasy.It was real.

I freeze. Then I laugh. First shyly, then louder.

Bo watches me from the hallway, puzzled. I stand up. I scoop him into my arms and start spinning around the living room.

"It's real, Bo! It's real!"

He meows, slightly annoyed by the movement. I stop and hold him tightly against my chest. My eyes fill with tears.

Fate has moved its pieces without warning me—but it moved them well.

I check the time. Six hours until the flight. I look at Bo.

"We're leaving, buddy," I say softly, stroking his head. "We're going to Guangzhou."

And for the first time in a long while… the future doesn't scare me.

CHAPTER 9

The taxi pulls up in front of the airport terminal. The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror with a neutral expression.

"We've arrived, miss."

I nod silently and get out quickly, gripping my carry-on suitcase tightly. The cool afternoon air hits my face, clearing the fog of thoughts clouding my mind for a brief moment. The airport bustles with activity, like a living organism that never sleeps: hurried travelers rushing back and forth dragging suitcases and carrying bags; massive screens hang from the ceiling, displaying endless lists of flights; announcements echo through the loudspeakers, blending with the constant murmur of conversations, creating a chaotic symphony that wraps around me.

I take a deep breath, try to calm myself, and walk toward the main entrance. My suitcase glides smoothly over the polished floor, but each step feels heavier than the last. I'm not used to traveling like this—so rushed, without a clear plan. All of this is new to me, and the uncertainty clings to my chest like a persistent shadow.

Suddenly, a tall man in a black suit walks directly toward me. His stride is measured, his posture impeccable. He has that look of someone straight out of a spy movie, with a presence that commands respect without a word. His eyes, cold and professional, seem to analyze every move.

"Miss Zhi Ling," he says firmly. It's not a question. It's a statement.

I freeze, startled. How does he know my name? Who is this man?

"Yes…" I reply cautiously, noticing a slight tremor in my voice.

"Please, come with me," he adds, taking my suitcase with the ease of someone well-versed in situations like this.

I blink, completely bewildered. I don't have time to ask questions or try to understand what's going on. The man is already walking, and I have no choice but to follow him. I feel like an actress in a scene I haven't rehearsed, escorted by a bodyguard I never hired. The feeling is strange, almost unreal… but also intriguing. Who arranged all this? And why?

He leads me confidently through an entrance separate from the one used by regular passengers. There are no endless lines, no impatient people waiting their turn. Everything flows with an ease that unsettles me. An airport employee checks my boarding pass and smiles politely.

"Everything is in order, Miss Zhi. You may proceed," she says, handing the pass back with a courteous nod.

I want to ask what's happening, but the man keeps moving without pause, and I don't have time to react. I simply follow, while curiosity and suspicion collide inside me. This is strange. Far too strange.

At the boarding gate, a flight attendant greets me with a flawless smile. Her uniform is perfectly pressed, and her demeanor so polished it feels straight out of a protocol manual.

"Miss Zhi, welcome. If you'd be so kind as to follow me," she says with an unnerving poise.

Miss Zhi? Since when do airports treat you like you own the airline? My confusion deepens as I step into the cabin and notice something unusual: there's no one here. The seats are empty, as if the entire plane has been reserved for me. The thought seems absurd… and yet thrilling. Who could be behind something like this?

The seat I'm shown resembles a luxury armchair more than anything from a commercial flight. There's more than enough room to stretch out, a huge screen in front of me, and a menu with gourmet options that look like they belong in a five-star restaurant. On a silver tray awaits a glass of champagne and a small plate of fresh fruit: seedless grapes, perfectly sliced strawberries, and pieces of some exotic fruit I can't identify. The luxury is overwhelming… but I'm fascinated.

I take the glass and turn it slowly between my fingers, watching the bubbles rise. All of this is ridiculous, but… I like it.

The man who accompanied me takes a seat a few meters away, in a discreet corner. He pulls out his phone and begins to speak softly, as if delivering a confidential report. I can't make out what he's saying, but his demeanor sparks the inevitable question: who is he talking to? And why does he seem so interested in my every move?

A soft chime sounds over the speakers, followed by the captain's voice:

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We'd like to welcome you aboard this flight to Guangzhou. Currently, the temperature in Shanghai is eighteen degrees, while at our destination it's a warm twenty-five with clear skies. Our estimated flight time will be two hours and ten minutes. Please keep your seatbelts fastened until the light is turned off. We hope you enjoy the flight."

The flight attendant checks that my seatbelt is properly fastened and gives me another perfect smile.

"If you need anything, Miss Zhi, please don't hesitate to ask once we're in the air."

I nod, feeling both nervous and expectant. What's waiting for me in Guangzhou? And why all this luxury? The plane begins to move. I feel the acceleration, the light pressure on my body as we leave the runway behind. I breathe deeply and close my eyes. I'm not afraid of flying, but this situation is so surreal I need a few seconds to take it all in.

When I open them, I see the man on the phone again.

"Yes. She closed her eyes during takeoff," he says quietly.

I frown. Who is he talking to? And why is he reporting on me? The feeling that this is all much bigger than I imagined grows inside me. I'm alone, with no one to hold on to during this journey. The solitude feels heavier… but so does my resolve. Something is shifting, and even though I don't know what it is, I know I'm standing on the threshold of something new.

The flight continues, but my mind refuses to rest. Every gesture, every word, every detail seems to carry a hidden meaning. Who is behind all this? And what do they want from me? I look out the window, watch the clouds drift by… and for the first time in a long while, I feel I'm about to step into something that might change everything.

 *****

The plane lands smoothly, and the man who has accompanied me from Shanghai stands up with the same precision he has shown in every step until now. I follow him in silence, feeling reality blur into disbelief.

The terminal doors slide open, and the city's warm air greets me. The bustle of the airport is overwhelming, but he leads me to a VIP area where a luxurious black Bentley awaits with the engine running. The chauffeur, dressed in a flawless uniform and white gloves, approaches with a slight bow.

"Miss Zhi, welcome to Guangzhou. Allow me to take your luggage," he says with a courtesy that seems pulled from another era.

I nod without speaking, still trying to process everything that's happening. The bodyguard—if that's truly his title—opens the car door and helps me inside with the same efficiency with which he's handled every detail. I settle into the leather seats, feeling how soft material molds to my body. The interior smells of cleanliness and luxury, as if the car had just rolled out of the showroom.

The chauffeur closes the door gently, and the bodyguard takes his place in the front seat next to the driver. The car glides smoothly through Guangzhou's avenues. Through the window, I watch the city unfold before me: skyscrapers reaching into the sky, lights flickering in the night, streets full of life and motion. It's a vibrant city, brimming with energy, though I feel as if I'm moving through it in a bubble, isolated from everything.

I wonder what role the bodyguard truly plays. Is he part of Tian Enterprises? An exclusive service for candidates? Or is there something more behind all of this? He remains silent, absorbed in his phone, not even glancing at me. His demeanor is professional, distant, as if his sole mission were to ensure I arrive safely. He reminds me of the escorts assigned to powerful businessmen, and I can't help but feel I'm being swept into something far greater than I imagined.

The car stops in front of an imposing facade: the Ritz-Carlton. The entrance is majestic, with glass reflecting the glow of the streetlamps and a warm light welcoming the guests. The revolving doors, adorned with golden details, turn slowly, as if inviting me to cross a threshold.

The chauffeur opens the door and helps me out. The bodyguard steps ahead naturally to lead the way. I walk toward the entrance, hearing how the polished marble echoes the sound of my footsteps. The lobby is breathtaking: soaring ceilings, crystal chandeliers suspended like jewels, and an exclusive fragrance mixing fresh flowers with fine wood. Uniformed waiters offer champagne to VIP guests, and the atmosphere exudes a level of elegance that borders on intimidating.

The bodyguard approaches the front desk before I do. His firm voice cuts through the general murmur.

"Miss Zhi Ling," he announces, as though presenting an ambassador.

The receptionist, a young woman with a perfectly styled bun and a tailored uniform, looks up. Her initial expression of surprise quickly transforms into a wide smile. She picks up the suite key with a kind of reverence, as if handing over the key to a palace.

"Welcome, Miss Zhi. It has been an honor to prepare your stay," she says with a warmth that feels genuine.

She explains the hotel's services with the fluency of someone who's mastered the art: private spa, exclusive gym, panoramic pool, 24-hour butler service, personalized dining. Every word is designed to make me feel important.

""This is the key to your suite. We hope your stay will be a pleasant one," she adds, handing me a gold card with the hotel's logo.

I take it carefully, noticing its weight between my fingers. I glance around and catch the eyes of a few guests. They're dressed in designer clothes: Italian suits, silk dresses that shimmer under the lights. I, on the other hand, am wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and a denim jacket I bought at a Shanghai market. The contrast is obvious. A man in a suit that probably costs more than my monthly salary looks at me with curiosity—almost with disdain. I choose to ignore it. I'm not here to impress anyone.

Before I reach the elevator, the bodyguard stops and gives me that impassive look I've come to recognize.

"Miss Zhi, I'll pick you up tomorrow at nine-thirty to take you to Tian Enterprises," he informs me in a tone that allows no discussion.

I try to say it's not necessary that I can get there on my own, but he bows slightly and disappears before I can even open my mouth. I remain still, trying to absorb the fact that reality continues to exceed my expectations.

I step into the glass elevator, watching the city unfold beneath my feet. I press the button for my floor. Suddenly, I get the sense I'm being watched. I look up: a security camera stares down from a corner. I avert my eyes, uneasy, and fix my gaze on the door, hoping to get to my room as soon as possible.

When the doors open, I take a deep breath and step out quickly. The feeling of being watched lingers, but I try to focus on the sound of my suitcase wheels rolling over the hallway carpet. I reach my door, swipe the card, and hear the click that tells me it's unlocked.

I enter and freeze. The suite is a dream. A marble foyer and a full-length mirror greet me. To the left, a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows offers a breathtaking view of the Pearl River. Velvet sofas in neutral tones invite relaxation, and on the coffee table, a fresh orchid arrangement and luxury magazines complete the scene.

I move toward the bedroom: a king-size bed, Egyptian cotton sheets, an upholstered headboard, and designer lamps that cast a warm light over the room. In the bathroom, marble gleams under the spotlights, and a jacuzzi bathtub seems to be waiting for me in silence. Hermès toiletries are neatly arranged, as if everything had been designed with me in mind.

The phone rings. I rush to answer it.

"Yes?" I say, still breathless.

"Miss Zhi, is everything to your liking? Is there anything you'd like in particular?" asks a kind voice on the other end.

"No, no, thank you. Everything is perfect," I reply, feeling emotion begin to swell.

"Just a reminder that dinner will be served in your suite at seven. Would you like to change the time?"

"No, that's fine."

"You'll find today's menu at the entrance. If you wish to modify anything…"

"No need, thank you very much."

"We wish you an excellent stay, Miss Zhi."

I hang up. I remain still, not quite knowing what to feel. Then, emotion crashes over me. I fall back onto the bed with a disbelieving smile. I sink into the mattress, as if wrapped in a cloud. I've never slept in anything like this. I've never felt such exquisite softness against my skin.

I close my eyes, trying to absorb everything that's happened. The call. The flight. The luxury car. This hotel… It's all too much. As if someone had taken my life and turned it into a movie script.

Maybe life has strange ways of repairing what it breaks. Maybe everything I lost was the price for what's coming. Maybe—just maybe—I'm meant for something far greater than I ever imagined.