The second I saw Liang Yunmei's name flashing across his screen, something inside me recoiled.
Zihan's phone rang three more times.
He didn't answer but he didn't turn it off either.
"You're not going to pick it up?" I asked quietly.
He exhaled, like the sound of her name weighed more than the phone in his hand. "No. Not right now."
"Not right now," I echoed.
He looked at me. "You know what I mean."
"I'm not sure I do."
Zihan stepped closer, but I took a step back.
It was the first time I'd physically distanced myself from him. And I could tell it startled him.
"You're saying you don't want a fake wife anymore," I said, voice trembling. "But I don't think I even know what you want—at all because when it comes to her, you hesitate."
He was silent for a moment. Too long.
"She's not what I want," he said finally. "Not anymore."
"Then why is she still calling?"
His expression hardened, the CEO mask slipping over his face like armor. "Because she can't let go of something that was never hers."
The words sounded rehearsed and maybe that's what scared me most.
The next day, I woke up to an empty bed.
Zihan had already left for the office. No note, no message, no explanation.
It was like we were back to square one.
I went to the gallery, hoping art would soothe the weight pressing on my chest. But my hands shook every time I tried to focus. Every brushstroke blurred. Every canvas looked like static.
Until Yingjie, one of our part-time curators, approached me during lunch.
"Someone left this for you at the front," she said, holding out a black envelope.
I opened it slowly, heart pounding.
Inside was a single card.
"Meet me. Alone. 4 p.m. at The Pavilion House."
There was no signature but I didn't need one.
I knew exactly who had sent it.
The Pavilion House was a quiet, luxurious tea salon tucked in one of the city's older districts. The kind of place where reputations were polished—or shattered—in whispers over porcelain cups.
When I entered, the host immediately guided me to a private room.
Liang Yunmei sat at the far end of the table, sipping tea as if she were entertaining royalty.
She smiled as I entered. "Glad you came."
"I didn't come to be polite."
"Good," she said, pouring a second cup. "Let's not pretend."
I sat, hands folded tightly in my lap. "Why did you ask me here?"
She tilted her head, mock-innocent. "I was curious. I wanted to meet the woman who made Zihan forget his place."
I frowned. "His place?"
"With me."
I nearly laughed, but the sound never made it past my lips. "He was never yours."
She smirked. "You think that because you're wearing his ring? Don't be so naïve. Zihan and I have known each other since we were children. Our families are tied together in ways your little fake marriage couldn't possibly unravel."
I said nothing. She thrived on reaction, and I wouldn't give her the pleasure.
But she leaned in, voice like a blade. "Do you know why I'm here, Li Xue? Because I let myself be patient. I let him go temporarily. For his family, for his image but make no mistake—I'm the woman they want for him. You were just… convenient."
I stared at her, fury slowly bubbling beneath my ribs.
"I didn't ask for this marriage," I said. "I never begged him to take me in. So if you think I'm clinging to something that belongs to you, think again. Zihan made his choices. You just can't stand that you weren't one of them."
Her smile faltered for just a moment.
Then she stood, straightened her dress, and delivered her final strike.
"You should be careful. Zihan is a man of power. He knows how to protect what's his. But me?" Her eyes glinted. "I know how to destroy what's his too."
She left the room like a queen, but I sat there frozen—feeling the invisible blood on the table.
That evening, I didn't go home right away.
I wandered the city streets instead, letting the cold bite into my skin.
My phone buzzed once. Twice. A third time.
I didn't check it.
When I finally returned to the apartment, Zihan was there. Waiting.
He stood the moment I entered, concern etched across his face.
"Where were you?"
"Out."
"You didn't answer my calls."
"I know."
He stepped closer. "What happened?"
"Ask her."
His jaw clenched. "She found you?"
"She summoned me like I was a problem she needed to fix."
"I didn't tell her to—"
"She threatened me, Zihan."
He froze.
My voice cracked. "She said she could destroy everything you care about and you just keep letting her orbit our lives like some star we can't escape."
"I'm handling it—"
"No," I snapped. "You're avoiding it. There's a difference."
He closed the distance between us in two long strides.
"You think I don't know what she's capable of? I've watched her manipulate board members, pressure my parents, and spin lies into silk. I kept her close all these years not out of love—but out of strategy."
"And me?" I asked. "What am I? Part of your next strategy?"
His voice dropped, low and raw. "No. You're the only part that's real."
That broke something in me or maybe… it rebuilt something instead.
He reached for my hand, and this time, I let him.
"I'm going to cut her off," he said. "For real. This time."
"You promise?"
"I swear."
And for the first time, I believed him but part of me knew…
Liang Yunmei wasn't done yet.