The Zhao Corporation boardroom buzzed with tension, the kind that simmered under polished smiles and expensive suits.
"Today marks a new beginning," Zhao Lemin declared, standing before the board with poise only he could summon. "I, Zhao Lemin, am officially returning to my position as Vice Chairman. Let the record show—the Zhao legacy is once again whole."
Polite applause filled the room, but eyes shifted—toward Luchen.
He didn't clap. Didn't blink. Just watched.
And Yuyan, seated beside him in a tailored white dress, felt the pressure between the two men stretch like glass about to shatter.
The private celebration was opulent—only handpicked guests, champagne, and strings of soft lights. Yuyan kept to the edges, observing rather than participating.
Lemin found her alone by the koi pond.
"You came," he said softly.
"You sent five invitations," she replied.
He laughed. "You always did make me work for your attention."
She looked away, but his voice followed her.
"Do you ever wonder what might have happened if I'd stayed that morning?"
Her expression hardened. "That morning changed everything."
Lemin stepped closer. "I didn't leave by choice, Yuyan."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I was threatened. By your uncle—he knew about your inheritance. The will your mother left. He needed you married into Zhao, and I was in the way."
Yuyan paled. "What inheritance?"
He smiled bitterly. "Even now, they keep you in the dark."
She tried to steady herself, but Lemin reached out, brushing her cheek. "I came back for you. I never stopped thinking about you."
"Lemin—don't."
But he leaned in. His lips brushed hers—not fully, not yet.
That's when Luchen's voice cut through the night like a blade.
"Step away."
Yuyan jerked back. Lemin didn't.
Luchen stood at the edge of the terrace, shadows playing across his face.
"I said step away," he repeated.
Lemin smirked, not moving. "Don't get jealous, brother. You've already taken enough."
Luchen's fists clenched. "Yuyan. We're leaving."
She hesitated. Lemin reached for her hand again. But she pulled it back, reluctantly walking past him, letting Luchen guide her out.
The penthouse door slammed behind them.
"You let him touch you?" Luchen growled.
Yuyan turned. "It wasn't what it looked like."
He stepped closer. "Did he kiss you?"
"No!"
"But he tried."
She faltered. "Yes."
Something inside Luchen snapped.
"I warned you about him. I told you he wasn't innocent. But you still went—dressed like that—letting him look at you like you belonged to him."
Her eyes flashed. "I belong to no one."
"You're my wife."
He grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward the bedroom. She resisted, but his grip was unrelenting.
"Luchen, what are you doing—?"
"What I should've done from the beginning."
He slammed the bedroom door behind them. "You married me. Not out of love. But duty, scandal, shame. But tonight, I end the lie."
He pulled her roughly into his arms, lips crushing hers with bruising force.
She pushed against him. "Stop!"
But he pinned her wrists above her head. "No more pretending. No more sleeping in separate rooms. You're mine, Yuyan."
Her protests faltered as his body pressed against hers, his breath hot and heavy.
"You wanted the truth?" he whispered hoarsely. "The truth is—I've been burning for you since the day I saw you walk onto that set in Paris. And I let my brother have you. I let fate take you. But I won't lose you again."
Tears welled in her eyes—not from fear, but from the weight of everything crashing down.
"Luchen…"
But he didn't stop.
That night, he claimed her with fire and fury—with obsession, pain, and an aching hunger that blurred the line between anger and longing.
And Yuyan—trapped between loyalty and betrayal, heartbreak and heat—let it happen.
Hours later, she lay still beside him.
Luchen's arm draped across her waist, possessive even in sleep.
But Yuyan didn't close her eyes.
Her body ached. Her heart bled.
And her mind whispered a single question:
What have we become?
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