The note was still in my hand, trembling slightly between my fingers. I had read it a dozen times since waking, but the words hadn't lost their weight.
"Pack your luggage and wear this. We are heading to our honeymoon."
I pressed it to my chest, my heart thundering in my ribcage. Last night… it was still vivid in my mind. The possessiveness in his voice, the intensity of his gaze, the way his hands had claimed me—"You are mine."
My body still bore the marks of his attention, faint bruises blossoming across my neck and collarbone. And yet, the memory didn't make me shiver with fear. It made me feel… strangely calm.
Why do I feel calm around a man who terrifies me?
I shook my head. My thoughts were chaotic. I was supposed to feel anger, disgust, fear—but none of that fully registered. Instead, there was a warmth curling in my chest, a pull I couldn't ignore. Despite the fear, despite everything, I wanted to see him again.
I began packing, each motion methodical but distracted. My fingers brushed against the edges of my folded clothes, and the faint scent of him clung to everything in the penthouse—the sheets, the curtains, even the faint trace of cologne in the air. I paused at the balcony, looking out over the city skyline. The golden morning light reflected off the glass towers, warm and bright, but all I could see was him.
A small, impulsive thought flitted through my mind—I could cook. For him. For the first time since Xu Zeyan, I could do something thoughtful for another person.
I picked up my phone and dialed cautiously. "Hello, Mrs. Lu?"
The older woman answered, pleasantly surprised. "Yes, Liya. What is it?"
"I… I want to cook something for Shiyuan," I admitted, a little awkwardly. "Can you tell me what he likes?"
There was a brief pause, then her voice softened. "He likes black coffee, not too strong. Steamed dumplings with ginger. That should suffice."
I nodded, smiling faintly. It feels… strange to care this way.
I spent the next hour carefully preparing the food. The dumplings were steamed just right, the coffee freshly brewed. I packed everything neatly into a small lunchbox, placing a napkin folded just so. My hands shook only slightly—not from fear, but from anticipation.
When I arrived at his office, I felt the nervous flutter deep in my stomach again. I called his secretary quietly, asking about Shiyuan's schedule.
"He's out for a few minutes," the secretary whispered, a little flustered. "I'll keep your visit a secret. It'll be a surprise for him."
I nodded, clutching the lunchbox tightly. A surprise… maybe he'll be happy. Maybe he'll see I care.
I walked down the corridor, heart pounding, and stopped in front of his office door. My hand hovered over the handle. I could hear faint typing from inside, and then… a voice.
A woman's voice, soft but unmistakably cruel.
"Drop the act, Shiyuan. I know you'll abandon her after one year. That was the deal, wasn't it?"
The words hit me like ice water. My hand froze, fingers tightening around the lunchbox. My chest constricted painfully, and tears formed in my eyes almost immediately.
I stepped back slowly, barely breathing. My mind reeled. Abandon me… after one year? Was everything he said, everything he did… a lie?
I placed the lunchbox carefully on the secretary's desk, my hands trembling. I couldn't stand to hear more. I turned and ran, the corridor stretching endlessly before me. The tears burned my cheeks, but I didn't stop.
Inside the office, the scene was nothing like what I imagined.
Wang Yuming, a socialite investor known for her boldness and flirtations with powerful men, stood too close to Shiyuan, smirking. She had a dangerous gleam in her eyes.
"Drop the act," she said again, teasing. "You're not the type to fall for a substitute wife. You'll toss her away after the contract ends—just like you planned."
Shiyuan's expression shifted instantly, his entire demeanor freezing. His eyes narrowed, dark and cold as steel. The air between them felt heavier, as though the room itself had hardened.
He put down his pen slowly, his voice low, deliberate, and dangerous.
"Who said I'm going to follow the rules?"
Wang Yuming blinked, momentarily taken aback. "You… what?"
His gaze bore into her, sharp and unwavering. Every word he spoke radiated ownership and intent, a quiet threat that made her step back instinctively.
"Next time you speak about her like that, make sure you can afford the consequences."
He turned from her, his eyes catching the lunchbox on the secretary's desk through the glass wall. Half-open, still warm, faintly fragrant, with the care of someone's hands baked into every corner.
His jaw tightened, and a dangerous light flared in his eyes.
"Who came in here?"
The secretary, flustered, admitted it had been Shen Liya, leaving the lunch and running off in tears. Shiyuan's lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't move immediately, his mind calculating, simmering.
Finally, he grabbed his keys and stormed out of the office, leaving behind the untouched lunchbox, the faint scent of her lingering in the air—a quiet testament to her care, and to her heartbreak.
I sat on the steps outside the office building, trying to catch my breath, tears streaming freely. My hands clutched my chest, and I could still feel the heat of him on my skin from last night, the possessiveness of his kiss still burning across my lips and neck.
I hated myself for being confused. I hated myself for feeling… something more than fear.
And yet, no matter how many tears I shed, my heart refused to calm completely. Deep down, beneath the heartbreak, a strange warmth lingered—a connection I couldn't name, one that terrified and comforted me all at once.
The lunchbox sat quietly on the secretary's desk, unopened. Steam still rising from the dumplings, a faint scent of warmth and care drifting through the office.
For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine him opening it, seeing my effort, feeling the sincerity behind my trembling hands. But the reality had intervened cruelly—misunderstanding, jealousy, and doubt seared through the brief hope I'd carried.
I wiped my tears and stood, shaking my head. No. I can't run anymore. I need answers. I need to face him. But not like this. Not in tears.
And somewhere inside me, I knew… he would be waiting.