Marvel Tower. Executive Boardroom. 9:32 A.M.
He was thirty-two minutes late.
The boardroom stretched like a blade—glass walls, chrome edges, a skyline view worth more than small countries. A long obsidian table gleamed under white lighting.
Twelve board members sat in silence. Their suits whispered money. Their eyes whispered judgment.
Then the doors swung open.
Li Tian Marvel strolled in, unapologetic, sunglasses still on.
He bit into a croissant—flaky, buttered, expensive—and crumbs scattered down the front of his all-black suit.
"Morning," he said, around a mouthful.
No one spoke.
Vivian Park cleared her throat.
She stood at the front, poised in ivory heels and a charcoal blazer, hair slicked into a knife-edge ponytail. Her presence was cold fire—quiet, professional, impossible to ignore.
"Shall we begin?" she said evenly.
Tian sauntered to the end of the table—his father's seat—and dropped into it like a king taking his throne.
Vivian didn't flinch. Instead, she clicked her remote, and the screens came alive.
THE HEIR REFORMATION CAMPAIGN
Images flickered: Tian in sleek suits, walking with orphans, shaking hands with diplomats.
A full digital PR campaign. A myth in the making.
The captions read:
"From Playboy to Power."
"China's Future Has a Face."
Vivian continued. "The goal is to shift public perception. You'll give interviews, attend charity galas, lead sustainability efforts. We soften your image while reinforcing legacy. Controlled. Elegant. Respectable."
Tian raised a hand.
She stopped mid-sentence.
"Delete all that," he said.
A beat of silence.
"Excuse me?" she asked.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes unreadable behind red-tinted shades.
"I'm not here to be house-trained. If you want a PR doll, go print one."
Vivian's jaw tightened, but she didn't speak. She just looked to Li Wei.
The oldest board member. The quiet one. The most dangerous.
Tian stood and paced behind his chair, slow and deliberate.
"You think this is about image," he said. "But I've seen what lies behind your smiles. You don't want an heir. You want a panda in a suit. Something pretty. Something tame."
He turned to face them all.
"Well, I'm not tame."
Another pause. Tension humming now.
"I want a seat that matters. Real power. Or I walk."
The air thickened. Board members exchanged glances. Something shifted.
Not just a spoiled brat.
Not just a figurehead.
He was dangerous.
He left the meeting the same way he entered—slow, amused, untouchable.
But just as he reached the glass hallway, a voice stopped him.
Low. Icy.
"This isn't Monaco."
Tian turned.
Li Wei stood behind him, hands folded behind his back, eyes sharp as razors.
"We eat weakness here."
Tian smiled. A slow, burning smirk.
"Then start fasting."
He walked away without waiting for the next threat.