Back at Lu Corp, a storm was brewing.
Tang Xinyue stepped out of the elevator with her back straight and her chin raised, striding through the executive floor like she owned it—because soon enough, she just might. The office was a sleek combination of marble, glass, and steel, reflecting the ruthless world of business that Lu Zeyan had built from the ground up.
Her heels echoed sharply against the polished floor as she approached the CEO's office. She barely had time to knock when the door opened with a soft mechanical click, revealing Lu Zeyan at his desk, sleeves rolled up, collar loosened, a look of calculated calm across his face.
"Come in," he said, gesturing her forward.
She entered, noting how his office overlooked half of the city—the skyline glowing gold under the setting sun. A silent metaphor, she thought, for how high she intended to rise.
"There's chatter online," Lu Zeyan began without preamble. "Someone posted photos of your dinner with Bai Ruxue. It's being twisted into a fight over Jiang Yuze."
Xinyue didn't flinch. "Let them talk."
He tapped a few keys and turned the monitor toward her. Several gossip headlines screamed in bold fonts across the screen.
> "Tang Heiress Goes Crazy Over Love Rival?"
> "Broken Engagement Sparks Socialite Drama!"
> "Sisters Torn Apart by One Man—Again?"
The accompanying images weren't even scandalous—just a moment caught in time, her glaring at Bai Ruxue from across a restaurant table. But in the hands of bored netizens and bloodthirsty media outlets, it had become ammunition.
Lu Zeyan leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. "I can kill the story," he said. "Silence the blogs, threaten lawsuits. Or—" he tilted his head, "—we can use it."
Xinyue crossed the room slowly and stood by the window, gazing out at the orange haze draping the city. The skyline sparkled like a kingdom waiting to be seized. Her reflection stared back at her from the glass—poised, elegant, untouchable.
"Use it," she said finally.
His brow arched. "Confident, aren't we?"
She turned to face him. "Let the world think I'm still obsessed," she said, her voice low and steady. "Let them laugh. Let them call me desperate, jealous, unstable. The louder they laugh now…" she paused, a slow smile forming, "...the more satisfying it'll be when I crush them."
Lu Zeyan regarded her with a subtle smile of his own. There was no mockery in it—only curiosity, and perhaps the barest hint of admiration.
"You know," he said after a beat, "I never liked Jiang Yuze."
Xinyue gave a soft laugh. "You and me both."
"But you once did," he said, not unkindly.
She turned back to the window. Her voice, when it came, was cool and distant. "I thought I did. I loved the idea of him. Gentle, reliable, cultured... the kind of man you could present to the world and be proud of."
Lu Zeyan stood and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He poured her one too, placing it on the table near the couch. She accepted it without thanks, sipping slowly.
"And now?" he asked.
"Now I see him clearly," she said. "A man who traded loyalty for convenience. Who stood by while I was torn apart in public. Who let my own sister smear my name because it was easier than defending me."
She let the words hang between them, heavy and raw.
"You're different," he said, watching her over the rim of his glass.
She looked at him. "Am I?"
"You used to shrink away from gossip. Let others speak for you. Now…" He took another sip. "Now you use rumors like weapons."
She smiled. "Because now I know who I am."
He nodded thoughtfully, then said, "Remind me never to be your enemy."
She tipped her glass toward him. "You're safe—for now."
---
Later that night, alone in her apartment, Xinyue sat on the floor surrounded by printed articles, screenshots of forum posts, and an open laptop displaying her growing arsenal of receipts.
Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she created a private folder labeled: Operation Phoenix.
Inside it, she stored her growing evidence against Xinyi, Mo Zihan, and their entire rotten network. She wasn't going to play defense anymore. Every lie they spread, every whisper they seeded—she would document, expose, and dismantle.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time, it was an anonymous tip in her inbox.
Subject: "The waitress from the charity gala. She wants to talk."
Message: "She saw what really happened. Meet her tomorrow. Discretion advised."
Xinyue's eyes narrowed.
First the anonymous message behind the music hall. Now this. The truth was beginning to crawl out of the shadows, one brave witness at a time.
She leaned back against the wall and stared at the ceiling, a flicker of satisfaction curling in her chest.
They thought they'd buried her.
But she wasn't a seed.
She was the fire that burned everything down before it could regrow.
And when she rose from the ashes this time, she'd make sure no one ever dared to underestimate her again.