Zhenting closed the laptop with a snap, his jaw tight. He would uncover the truth, no matter how painful it might be. He would know, once and for all, if the woman he was falling for was the woman he had spent a night with... or if he was simply a fool chasing a scent in the dark.
The next morning, Assistant Qin shuffled into Zhenting’s office, his face pale. "Mr. Lu, I have some… unexpected news regarding Miss Lin's security detail."
Zhenting's gaze sharpened. "Speak plainly, Qin."
"There have been… discrepancies. Gaps in their surveillance reports. It appears someone was paid to overlook certain activities."
Zhenting's office, usually smelling of crisp sandalwood and intellectual focus, felt suddenly thick with a coming storm. "And these 'certain activities' wouldn't happen to involve Miss Lin’s proximity to Miss Belle, would they?"
Qin swallowed, the sound amplified in the tense silence. "It is… highly probable, sir."
"Move Lin Xia's desk into my private suite immediately."
Qin blinked, momentarily speechless. "Sir? But… Miss Belle…"
"I do not require your commentary, Qin. Simply execute the order. And ensure Miss Lin is informed that this is for her own protection. Tell her… tell her Miss Belle’s family is too dangerous for her to be alone. Understood?"
Qin nodded rapidly, scrambling to escape before Zhenting’s simmering rage could fully erupt. The scent of incipient rain filled the room as Zhenting stared out at the city, his mind churning.
Xia nearly dropped her coffee when Qin informed her of the sudden change in office arrangements. Move inside Mr. Lu's office? It was absurd. Terrifying. Exposing. But she couldn't refuse; she needed this job more than she needed her sanity. Her mother's health depended on it.
As movers carefully transported her desk, files, and pathetic little orchid (a gift from her mother), Xia couldn't shake the feeling of being a lamb led to slaughter. Each step closer to the 88th floor felt like a betrayal to her own heart.
The suite was even more intimidating up close. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, and the minimalist décor screamed power and wealth. But it was the small details that truly unnerved her: the perfectly arranged jasmine in a crystal vase, the faint scent of sandalwood clinging to the air – ghosts of a night she desperately tried to forget.
She settled into her new space, trying to ignore the weight of Zhenting’s gaze as he worked at his massive mahogany desk. Every rustle of paper, every click of her keyboard felt amplified, scrutinized. The air was thick with unspoken words, with the promise of an unraveling secret.
Days blurred into a tense routine. Zhenting spent hours on calls, reviewing documents, and managing his empire. Xia, meanwhile, struggled to focus on her tasks, hyper-aware of his presence. It was like being trapped in a gilded cage, the door wide open, yet the freedom to leave felt impossibly far away.