At 3 a.m., the lights in the Su Corporation's finance department were still on. My eyes burned with exhaustion as I downed my fifth cup of coffee. On the screen, the financial statements from the past three quarters sprawled out like a spider web. Slowly, a strange pattern in the numbers began to surface.
"Got it…" I murmured, my fingers pausing on the screen.
On the 15th of every month, there was a recurring payment labeled "Southeast Asian Mineral Assessment," each precisely for $876,000. That number was far too specific—it was the same amount the Lu Corporation used in the previous timeline for laundering funds overseas, accurate down to the last digit. That level of precision was a clear signal—meant to separate the illicit from the legitimate.
Stranger still, the approval bore Director Mitchell's digital signature.
My phone buzzed. It was an email from Ethan Zhou. Attached was Lu Corporation's internal directory. One name was highlighted in red: Jason Lin, Deputy Director of Finance. The notes section read, "Recommended by Mitchell."
I immediately pulled up the company's HR files. Sure enough, Jason had been personally referred by Director Mitchell three months ago. His résumé showed prior work with a mining firm in Myanmar. The square-jawed face in his photo triggered a memory—the same man in sunglasses standing beside Mitchell in that photo Ethan showed me yesterday.
"So that's how it is…" I whispered, sneering.
Director Mitchell had embedded his trusted aides within Lu Corporation's operations in Myanmar—and even planted Lu's people inside the Su Corporation. He was playing both sides. But the question remained—who was he really loyal to?
Lightning flashed outside. A heavy rain began to pour. I opened my desk drawer and retrieved the stolen key to Mitchell's office. He was away on a business trip to Shanghai with my father. Tonight was my only chance.
"Miss Harrison, you're still here?" my assistant, Sarah, entered the room holding an umbrella. "Need a ride home?"
"You go on ahead," I said, closing my laptop. "I've got a few design drafts to finish up."
She hesitated. "Be careful around Director Mitchell…"
I looked up sharply. "Why? What happened?"
"Last week, I was delivering documents and overheard him on the phone saying something like, 'Once we take over Su's…' I could've misheard," she said nervously, biting her lip.
I stood and gently took her cold hand. "Thank you for telling me. Please, don't speak of this to anyone else."
Once she left, I sprang into action. I retrieved a micro-camera and gloves from my safe. On second thought, I also took my pepper spray—just in case.
Mitchell's office was on the 18th floor. At this hour, only the security guards would be around. I climbed the stairs, avoided the patrols, and unlocked his office door quietly.
The scent of cigars and polished wood filled the dark room. I turned on my phone's flashlight and headed straight for the file cabinet. The bottom drawer was locked and required a code. I tried my father's birthday. Then the founding date of Su Corporation. No luck.
Finally, I tried Mitchell's own birthday—it opened.
Dozens of folders were neatly stacked inside. I combed through them quickly and found one labeled "Lu–SEA." Inside were mineral appraisal reports, each with corresponding fund transfer records.
The camera shutter sounded too loud in the silence. By the seventh photo, I stumbled on something far worse—a stock pledge agreement bearing my father's forged signature.
"Of course…" My fingers trembled. In my past life, the Lu family had hollowed out Su Corporation step by step through fake agreements like this.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the hallway. I slammed the drawer shut but had no time to hide. The door handle turned. My heart nearly stopped.
"Mr. Mitchell? You back already?" a guard's voice asked.
I dove under the desk, holding my breath. My hand gripped the pepper spray—but using it would reveal me instantly.
"I forgot a file," Mitchell's voice replied coolly. "Why don't you check the other floors for now?"
Footsteps retreated. The office light switched on. Through the gap beneath the desk, I saw his leather shoes heading for the cabinet. My heart thundered.
Click. The drawer opened. Papers rustled.
"Who's been messing with my files?!" he snapped.
I prayed he wouldn't bend down.
Just then, a knock interrupted.
"Uncle Mitch? You here?" drawled a lazy male voice.
Ethan Zhou.
"Ethan?" Mitchell sounded surprised. "It's awfully late—"
"I couldn't sleep," Ethan replied smoothly. "Heard you got back from Myanmar. Bring back any souvenirs?"
"What Myanmar? I just flew in from Shanghai—"
"Strange," Ethan cut in, "a friend of mine took your picture at Yangon Airport yesterday."
As they talked, I slipped out the other side of the desk and hid behind the curtains. Peeking through the folds, I saw Ethan playing idly with a crystal paperweight, looking every bit the privileged slacker.
"You must be mistaken," Mitchell said coldly. "If there's nothing else—"
"Not so fast." Ethan turned toward the curtains, eyes twinkling. "Heard a rumor Su Corporation's facing cash flow issues. Lu Group's getting ready to acquire it, right?"
Mitchell paled. "Who told you that? That's a lie!"
"Oh? So someone forged the financial reports?" Ethan pulled a USB drive from his pocket. "Funny, I happen to have some very interesting data…"
Mitchell lunged for it. Ethan stepped back effortlessly.
"See you at tomorrow's board meeting," he said casually.
As he turned to leave, he "accidentally" knocked over a vase. Water splashed across the desk. Mitchell rushed to save the papers.
Ethan mouthed toward me behind the curtain: "Fire escape. Now."
I slipped out as he distracted Mitchell. The moment I reached the stairwell, I heard him roar, "Search the entire building!"
I flew up ten flights in under two minutes. Outside, the downpour hadn't let up. I ducked beneath a bus shelter, drenched and shivering.
A sleek black Mercedes pulled up. The window lowered—Ethan's sunglasses gleamed.
"Get in."
The heater blasted warmth. He tossed me a towel. "Did you get the photos?"
I nodded, pulling a tiny camera from my bra. "How'd you know I was there?"
"Lucky guess," he said, grinning. "Your office light was still on, and I heard Mitchell 'returned unexpectedly.'"
"Thank you," I said earnestly. "If it weren't for you—"
"Don't thank me yet." He pulled a folder from nowhere. "Take a look at this."
Inside were Mitchell's offshore account records—over $20 million transferred in just three months. The sender? Lu Resources (Cayman).
"He's laundering money for Lu Group," I whispered. But when I flipped to the last page, my breath caught. "Wait—this $5 million transfer… the recipient is Lin Family Trust?"
Ethan nodded. "As in Rachel Lin. Lu Ming's mistress."
Everything snapped into place. Rachel Lin wasn't just Lu Ming's lover. She was siphoning Su Corporation's assets through Mitchell!
"What will you do at tomorrow's board meeting?" Ethan asked.
"Strike first." I wrapped the towel around my shoulders. "This is enough to put Mitchell behind bars."
"Too easy," Ethan muttered darkly. "You want to know why I'm helping you?"
I shook my head.
"Fifteen years ago, my mom was Lu Corporation's CFO." His grip on the wheel tightened. "She found out about illegal transactions. The next day, she 'jumped' from the roof. They said suicide—but her wrists had ligature marks."
My chest tightened. In my last life, the sky I saw as I fell from the rooftop looked just like this.
"So," I whispered, "you got close to me… to take revenge on the Lu family?"
The car pulled up to my house. He turned to me, unreadable behind his sunglasses.
"At first."
Raindrops pounded the roof in thunderous rhythm. We stared at each other. Unspoken understanding shimmered in the silence.
"See you tomorrow, partner." He reached out and gently plucked a piece of paper from my hair.