The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and we stepped into Shiyuan's private office floor. It was quieter here, more refined. The atmosphere carried a sharp authority—just like him.
I had been here before, but only briefly. This time, though, there was a different kind of weight in the air, a sense of inevitability I couldn't ignore.
"Sit," Shiyuan said simply, guiding me toward his chair—the one that overlooked the city through towering glass walls. It was strange, unnerving even, to sink into the seat that belonged to him. This chair wasn't just furniture—it was power, control, dominance.
My fingers curled around the smooth leather arms as I looked up at him. He leaned against the desk, his arms folded, eyes fixed on me with that unreadable, dangerous calm.
I swallowed hard. "Why do I feel like you've brought me here for something more than planning?"
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Because you're perceptive. And because today… you need to see the truth."
Before I could ask more, he pressed the intercom. "Xiaoyan, bring in the files."
Within minutes, his secretary entered, arms full of thick, leather-bound folders. She set them down in front of him, her eyes briefly flickering toward me with curiosity. Then, with a bow, she left.
Shiyuan opened the first folder, flipping through with deliberate precision, until pages of contracts and photographs lay spread before me.
"What is this?" I asked, my voice low, uneasy.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he met my eyes and said, "Tell me, Liya. How well do you know your family?"
The question cut sharper than I expected. I frowned, forcing myself to stay composed. "They're my family. I grew up with them, sacrificed everything for them. My father gave me responsibilities, my stepmother raised me, and my stepsister…" My throat tightened. "…she was fragile, but I always cared for her."
His eyes darkened. "And yet, did you never wonder why all the weight was on you, and not her?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "What are you saying?"
Shiyuan pushed the first document toward me. "Read."
I picked up the sheet. It was an agreement—stamped and signed. My blood froze as my eyes scanned the lines.
Marriage alliance contract.
My fiancé's name.My stepsister's name.Dated two years ago.
The room spun. I gripped the paper tightly, fingers trembling. "This… this can't be real…"
But Shiyuan was merciless. He slid another paper toward me—an exchange of emails between my father and Zeyan's family. And then a third—a bank transfer tied directly to my stepmother's account.
Every piece, every line, screamed the same truth: The marriage had been fixed long ago.
My heart stopped. My breath came in shallow gasps.
"No…" I whispered, shaking my head. "No, it's impossible. He loved me. He… he proposed to me. He promised—"
"He promised because it was convenient," Shiyuan said quietly, but firmly. "Do you think a man like him wouldn't bend to your family's pressure? Do you think your father didn't see you as nothing more than a stepping stone? Liya…" He leaned closer, voice softer now, though still sharp. "It was never about love. It was business. And you… you were just a placeholder."
The words pierced deeper than any knife.
My chest tightened painfully, and I felt my throat burn as if I couldn't breathe. The man I had given my heart to, the family I had lived for… all of it had been a lie. A carefully constructed, cruel lie.
Tears blurred my vision. My voice cracked as I forced the words out. "I gave them everything. My time, my dreams, my loyalty… I… I destroyed myself for them!" My hands slammed against the desk, shaking. "And this… this was what they were doing behind my back? Planning to hand him over to her like some… some prize? And me—just the fool who believed them all?"
Anguish twisted into rage. My nails dug into my palms until I thought they'd draw blood.
The image of Rou in her wedding gown, smiling smugly; my father, looking at me with cold disappointment; Zeyan, whispering those lies of love—flashed through my mind. The betrayal was suffocating.
"I hate them," I whispered, the words spilling from me, broken but fierce. "I hate them all."
Shiyuan's eyes never left mine. He didn't flinch at my tears, my trembling, my fury. Instead, he reached out, taking the papers from my shaking hands, and stacked them neatly.
"Good," he said, voice low, steady. "Hold onto that."
I looked up at him through blurred eyes, my chest heaving. "Why… why are you showing me this? Why do you even care?"
His gaze softened, though there was still danger in it, the kind of danger that promised destruction—but not of me. Of them.
"Because," he said slowly, each word deliberate, "if you don't know the full truth, you'll never heal. And if you don't let yourself feel this anger, you'll never get your revenge. You need to see them as they are—not the family you thought you had, not the love you thought you held—but as the enemies who betrayed you."
My lips trembled. "Enemies…"
"Yes." His hand reached out, brushing lightly over mine. "And enemies… can be destroyed."
A bitter, broken laugh escaped me, half a sob. "I don't even know who I am anymore. All I feel is… pain. Hatred. Emptiness."
"You'll remember," Shiyuan murmured, his hand tightening slightly over mine. "Because I'll remind you. You are Shen Liya. And from today… you don't belong to them anymore. You belong to yourself. To your revenge. And to me."
Something inside me cracked open then. Not just pain, but a terrifying, exhilarating clarity. For the first time in six years, I wasn't a daughter, a sister, or a fiancée. I was just me. And I was burning.
I wiped at my tears, my chest still heaving, but my voice steadier now. "Then… tell me everything. Every dirty secret, every hidden scheme. If I'm going to destroy them, I need to know where to strike."
Shiyuan's lips curved into a smile—dark, dangerous, but proud. "That's the spirit."
He leaned closer, his eyes holding mine. "This is only the beginning, Liya. You thought betrayal was the end of your story. But it's just the first chapter. Now, we write the rest together."