The next morning, the city woke up to smoke—but no fire.
At least, not yet.
The headline hit every major business feed before 7:00 AM:
HAN GLOBAL IN QUESTION: Internal Disruption Ahead of New Leadership Structure?Exclusive sources suggest instability behind closed doors. Has Lucas Pan already lost control of the company his father built?
It was clean. Subtle. No hard accusations. Just enough poison to raise eyebrows and push stocks half a percent lower. The kind of precision smear that didn't scream scandal.
It whispered doubt.
Lucas read the article on the penthouse balcony, sunlight catching the edge of his coffee.
He didn't blink.
Didn't cuss.
Just turned the screen off and set the tablet down.
"Frances," he said simply.
"Confirmed," ATHENA replied. "Her legal proxy filed three minor disclosure requests yesterday. Each one lines up with details now in the article. The reporter? Biased coverage history, known to take discreet payment via intermediaries. Multiple overlaps with Frances's corporate network."
Lucas rubbed his jaw.
"She's not trying to break me yet."
"No. She's testing your defense. Seeing how much pressure she can apply before you show cracks."
He looked out at the skyline. "Then I won't crack."
"Then you'd better start playing offense."
At 9:12 AM, Lucas arrived at Han Global Tower in a dark navy suit and no expression.
His new assistant, Ethan Yu, was already waiting in his office with three folders pre-sorted on the desk.
"Morning panic," Ethan said, handing him the first file. "Your inbox is a landfill of polite threats. Board members requesting clarification, investors requesting reassurance, and one fashion blogger requesting your workout routine."
Lucas flipped open the folder. "The blogger can wait."
Rhea arrived thirty seconds later—heels sharp, mood sharper.
"We need a response by noon," she said. "I've drafted two: one soft denial, one hard pivot. Option C is total silence, which I don't recommend unless you want to be called emotionally unavailable by tomorrow."
Lucas didn't speak right away.
He tapped the desk once, then looked at ATHENA's interface screen.
"Who knew about yesterday's offer to Adrianna?"
A second passed. Then:
"Eight individuals. Five from your team. Three connected to legal. All cleared... except one."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"
"Gideon Ren. Financial analyst. New to the inherited roster. Recommended by an old guard from Cyrus's era."
Rhea stopped cold. "Wait—Ren? I've worked with him. He's a ghost. Looks harmless. Never is."
Lucas turned to Ethan. "Where is he now?"
Ethan blinked. "Uh, floor 31. West finance wing. Want me to pull him in?"
Lucas shook his head. "No. Let him sit. Watch his messages. And feed him something false today. Something small but traceable."
"A digital watermark?" ATHENA asked.
Lucas nodded. "Exactly. Let's see where it lands."
"Marking bait."
Rhea watched him, arms folded. "You're getting better at this."
"I'm not interested in games," Lucas said. "But I won't lose on someone else's board."
At 11:47 AM, Lucas called a press conference.
Not big—just enough reporters to make it matter. No stage. No branding wall. Just the conference floor of Han Global's west annex, with glass walls and a skyline that said: We don't hide.
Lucas stood in front of them without notes.
"The past week has been full of questions," he began. "About who I am. About what I want. About whether this company is still stable."
He glanced toward the camera.
"Let me answer that last one first. We are not stable. We're evolving. Which is far more dangerous."
A few pens froze mid-scribble.
Lucas kept going.
"My father built Han Global to disrupt the world. And that's exactly what I intend to keep doing. Yes, changes are happening behind closed doors. But they're strategic. Not chaotic."
He paused a little.
"And anyone suggesting otherwise?" Lucas continued, letting the pause stretch for the tension to spike, "Is either misinformed… or hoping to slow us down."
He didn't move from the podium.
Didn't blink.
Just let the weight of the words settle.
Then, in a lower, steadier voice: "So let me be clear—Han Global is not looking backward. We're not trying to preserve a legacy. We're building from it."
Murmurs rippled. Cameras leaned in. The silence was listening now.
Lucas let it build.
"I'm not here to be Cyrus Han. I'm not here to dismantle what he made. I'm here to scale it. To evolve it. To make sure this company doesn't just survive disruption—we cause it."
"Pulse is strong. Optics stable," ATHENA whispered through the internal comm. "Now push. Vision forward. Use emotion in the phrasing. Show conviction."
Lucas nodded subtly.
"Our future isn't locked in labs. It's not buried in market projections or quarterly targets. It's in human edge. Judgment. Precision. Technology is our engine, yes. But instinct? Instinct is the wheel."
He scanned the room once. No notes. No teleprompter. Just presence.
"We're going to move faster. We're going to take smarter risks. And we're going to get loud about what we believe—because the era of quiet innovation is over."
"Final cadence: slow. Finish with steel."
Lucas locked eyes with the front row.
"If you're with us, we'll show you the future. If you're in our way, we'll turn you into the past."
Then he stepped down.
The silence was deafening—for three seconds.
Then came the surge of flashbulbs, and the roar of real, unfiltered press momentum.
ATHENA's voice followed softly.
"You just doubled your leadership confidence index. Frances will strike harder next time."
Then came the surge of flashbulbs, and the roar of real, unfiltered press momentum.
But it wasn't just business questions anymore.
As Lucas turned to leave the podium, a reporter's voice cut through the noise—slightly breathless, a little too eager.
"Mr. Pan—one more, if you don't mind!"
Lucas paused, giving them the grace of a glance over his shoulder.
The reporter grinned. "There's been a lot of speculation about your personal life since the gala—are you currently seeing anyone?"
That pulled half the room closer. Phones lifted. Lenses re-angled.
Lucas took a second. Just enough to feel the weight of the question—not deflect it, not dismiss it. Then he spoke, voice steady, measured.
"I'm in the dating phase," he said. "If I'm ever in a relationship serious enough to matter publicly—don't worry. The world will know."
There were a few laughs. A few sighs. And a flash of admiration from more than one photographer.
Lucas gave a small nod, turned, and walked off.
He didn't look back.