The Maserati glided through the city streets under the midday sun, but to Leon, the world had gone monochrome.
He sat rigid, one knuckle tapping a rhythm against the leather door, and replayed Wenna's intrusion over and over: her brittle smile, the poison in her words, the way she had assessed Kaya like prey.
Damn it.
A fire burned in his chest, not just rage, but a bitter ache, the kind that leaves scars no apology can heal. He saw her once, and everything broke open again. He hated her for the betrayal, the arrogance, the way she left him standing alone in his empire, brittle and bleeding from the inside.
He glanced at Kaya. She was quiet now, her aura like a storm held back behind careful control. But he felt her tension in the hollow of his chest. She was new to this world, and her questions in the car were challenges.
None of the executives had dared speak to him like that. Nobody did.
They knew what would happen if they did.
But she had. She had challenged him. In his own car. After Wenna's silence.
It was audacious.
Annoying.
Irritating.
He flexed his hand.
But he also admired her nerve. It was the exact thing he needed at the moment.
Unbidden, the corners of his mouth tightened, because eventually, she would learn.
The car slowed, turning into a courtyard he knew too well: Astor Maison, the high-end boutique under the Feng International umbrella. Marble pillars, fountains of cypress, glass walls showing gowns and jewels lit like fireworks.
"Kaya," he said without looking at her. "Go there and pick whatever you like. All of it belongs to you."
Something flickered in her expression, doubt, maybe even suspicion. She looked at him, then at the store, like she didn't quite believe there wasn't a catch. For a second, he thought she might refuse.
But then her chin lifted. And without saying a word, she slipped out of the car and walked straight through the doors, her pace quick and composed.
He leaned back, crossing his arms. Anger and bile whirled inside him. Why had Wenna come back now? Wenna would never walk in so boldly if she'd thought he'd shifted. She must have known he would show weakness, hesitation, otherwise, why return?
He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing the burn in his chest down, burying it beneath layers of steel the way he always did.
Wenna could wait.
Her schemes, her arrogance, the smug gleam in her eye when she called Kaya obedient. All of it could wait.
He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and stepped out of the car, sliding his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks. He stepped towards the boutique and entered.
The bell above the glass door gave a soft chime as he entered, the cool, expensive scent of sandalwood and silk brushing over him instantly. The air inside was hushed, reverent, like the boutique itself knew how much everything in it cost.
Kaya was standing near the central display, holding a long cream dress up against her frame. Not too dramatic, but structured, clean, regal. She turned slightly in the mirror, her brows furrowed in thought, unaware he was watching.
The shop assistants fluttered around her like moths to flame, their energy a mix of awe and urgency. She was beautiful in a way that didn't beg attention, but demanded it when you looked long enough.
And Leon… found himself watching longer than he should.
He stepped deeper into the boutique, his steps quiet against the marble floor. Kaya caught sight of him through the mirror and stiffened slightly, as though embarrassed he'd seen her deliberating. Her expression immediately shuttered.
"I was just—" she started.
"I told you to pick what you want," he interrupted coolly.
He moved past her toward a velvet bench and sat down, legs crossed, fingers tapping idly on his thigh. One of the shop girls approached him tentatively, asking if he needed anything. He waved her off with a glance.
Kaya tried on two more dresses, each more daring than the last. Red silk that hugged her too tightly. A plunging black gown that made the staff practically gasp. Leon said nothing, but his jaw twitched each time she stepped out.
Then she disappeared into the fitting room again, and after a long pause, emerged wearing a long-sleeved white dress. Simple. Elegant. The fabric clung to her gently before flowing down to her calves, the neckline modest but regal. Her hair had been tied back into a low, neat bun, and she wore small pearl earrings one of the staff had paired with the look.
She didn't look like a girl who had crawled out of debt and desperation.
She looked like a wife.
His wife.
And it unsettled him more than he expected.
He stood, expression unreadable. "We're leaving."
Kaya blinked, caught off guard. "That's it?"
He turned without answering, the staff already scrambling to bag her selections and whisper thanks.
Outside, the air felt cooler than before. She followed a few steps behind him, carrying nothing, as the staff would have everything delivered. As they entered the waiting car, she smoothed the fabric of her dress and turned to him.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Leon didn't respond. He just stared out the window, his jaw tight.
The driver pulled into the road as silence settled between them. A few moments passed between them before he spoke.
"There's a gala tonight," he said.
Kaya turned to him. "And I'm going?"
He met her eyes for the first time since they left the boutique.
"You're my wife," he said simply. "Of course you're going."
She nodded, seemingly unbothered now. "Then I'll be ready."
As she turned her face back toward the window, Leon pulled out his phone. His fingers flew across the screen, and within seconds, a call connected.
"Damien Xu," he said, voice clipped. Damien was his vice president, and also one of the few people he could call a friend.
"Leon Feng. You sound like you want to fire someone."
"Not yet," Leon muttered. "But I need a deep dive. Wenna Lang. She came by after the meeting."
There was a pause.
Damien exhaled. "You're serious?"
"Very."
"She's been radio silent for two years. And now she walks into your building?"
Leon's eyes narrowed. "Exactly. I want every client, every call, every meeting she's had in the last six months. Who hired her. Where she's been staying. Everything."
Damien's tone dropped. "You think she's aiming at you again?"
"I don't think. I know."
Another beat passed before Damien replied, "Alright. You'll have it by morning."
Leon ended the call without another word.
Next to him, Kaya still stared out the window, silent, unreadable.
His eyes drifted to her reflection in the glass.
She was too calm.
And somehow, that bothered him even more than her constant questions.