CHAPTER 35
One week. Seven days. One hundred sixty-eight hours since the last time I saw Yifei. Since the last time I heard from her. Since the last time I breathed without feeling my chest being torn apart from the inside. One week since my life turned into a hell disguised as routine.
I'm at the office, sitting at my desk, surrounded by papers, reports, and projects that fail to hold my attention. My reflection in the window shows me the face of a stranger. Deep eye bags, chapped lips, the shadow of a beard I haven't bothered to shave. The once impeccable suit no longer looks the same; it's wrinkled, unkempt—just like me. My assistant, an efficient and patient woman, has asked me three times if I need anything. I've told her no, but the truth is, I don't know what I need. How do I tell her I need time to go backwards? How do I tell her I need to erase every mistake, every lie, every betrayal?
"Mr. Hu, you should go home," she says gently but firmly. "You've been here sixteen hours. You need to rest."
"I can't," I reply, without looking up from the report I haven't read. "There's too much work."
It's a lie. It's not work that keeps me here. It's fear. The fear of returning to that empty house, to that place that was once my happiness and is now my prison. The fear of facing walls that no longer echo with Yifei's laughter, of walking past corners that have lost her scent, of looking at picture frames she left empty.
Eventually, I leave the office. My assistant watches me with concern but says nothing. I know she thinks I'm overworking myself, that I'm on the verge of collapse. And maybe she's right. But I can't stop. If I stop, if I stop moving, the weight of my guilt will crush me.
I park in front of my house and stay there, hands on the wheel, struggling to breathe. I don't want to go in. I don't want to face the silence, the memories, the absence. I wipe my forehead, feeling cold sweat. The house stands there, waiting for me like a monster in the dark, ready to devour me. I swallow hard and exhale slowly. Just one more step. One more.
I get out of the car and walk toward that wooden door that feels like the entrance to hell. But before I can open it and cross into that world of shadows, I hear Liu's voice call my name.
"Ge!"
I stop. I don't want to turn around. I don't want to see her. But I know I have no choice. I haven't spoken to her in a week, not since that horrible argument where everything became painfully clear: I cheated on my wife, I shattered her heart, and I made her leave. Liu may have offered me sweetness on a silver platter, but if I hadn't opened my mouth, I wouldn't have tasted it.
"What's wrong with you?" she asks once she's by my side.
"Ge!" she repeats and throws her arms around me with unexpected force.
But my arms hang limp, and the tips of my fingers point to the ground. I can't hug her back. I don't want to.
"I have amazing news!" she says, a smile lighting up her face.
I look at her. She still hasn't moved away from me. I don't understand why she doesn't step back, especially when she knows the neighbors might see us. Then again, I had the same nerve when I left my home to go into hers, wrapped in her arms, kissing her.
"What news?" I ask dully, feeling my stomach knot.
"I'm pregnant!" she announces with excitement. "We're going to be parents!"
The world stops. The air thickens, too heavy to breathe. I push her aside without saying a word. I open the door and act as if she isn't there, as if she hadn't said anything at all. I step into my world of darkness and close the door behind me.
Now it's my turn to figure out what the hell I'm going to do with everything fate keeps punching me with.
CHAPTER 36
I can't accept that Yifei left me. I just can't. I don't want to. Every day that passes is a battle against reality, a desperate fight to find her, to bring her back. This is the fourth time I've come to see Na in her office. The first three times, she didn't even agree to see me. But today, finally, she lets me in.
Na's office is minimalist, almost cold. The walls are pristine white, and the only decoration is an abstract painting I can't make sense of. The chaotic lines and disordered colors seem to mock me, like a reflection of my current life. Na is seated behind a glass desk, her hands clasped, her expression a blend of disgust and contempt. She looks at me like I'm an insect—something to be crushed without a second thought.
"Na, please," I say, my voice sounding weaker than I want it to. "I need to know where Yifei is. I want to talk to her."
She doesn't reply right away. She studies me, as if weighing whether I'm worth the effort of speaking. Finally, she does speak—and her words cut through me like knives.
"Yifei found out you were cheating on her more than three months ago," she begins, her voice so cold it chills me to the bone. "Not just because of the videos or the messages your lover sent. It was because of you, Hu Ge. Your behavior. The excuses you gave to leave her alone, the random gifts, the lipstick marks on your neck, on your shirts. Do you think she didn't notice you trying to scrub them off? That you smell like another woman's perfume? That you took calls in the middle of the night, thinking she was asleep?"
Each of Na's words is a direct hit to the heart. My hands tremble, and a knot forms in my throat, making it impossible to swallow. I feel cold sweat trickle down my back, and my legs are on the verge of giving out. How could I have been so blind? How could I have hurt her so deeply?
Na doesn't stop. Her voice lashes out—sharp and merciless.
"Do you know what it's like to live with someone who lies to your face?" she asks, leaning forward, her eyes blazing with fury. "Do you know what it's like to watch the person you love fall apart piece by piece while you pretend nothing's wrong? Yifei lived it, Hu Ge. And she lived it because of you."
She tells me about the sudden trips, about Liu's posts, about how Yifei put all the pieces together. The trip to Paris was the final confirmation. Na says it with a clarity that knocks the breath out of me:
"She didn't even have to spy on you. She didn't check your phone. She didn't follow you. She didn't have to do a thing, because you gave her all the proof she needed."
It feels like the floor has opened up beneath my feet. And still, Na doesn't stop.
"You bought your mistress a house next door to the one you shared with your wife. What kind of bastard does that?" she cries, so furious I can see the anger in every movement of her body. "You're a heartless piece of shit, and everything that's happening to you—you brought it on yourself! I don't feel sorry for you, Hu Ge. You're getting exactly what you deserve."
I leave the building more wrecked than when I went in, more broken than I already was. Every step I take is a reminder of my own stupidity, my selfishness, my blindness. I think about how Yifei must have lived through these past months, knowing the truth and watching me act like everything was fine. It's a torment I know I'll carry for the rest of my life. Because she's not coming back. I have no doubt anymore—she's gone for good.
I return to the office, though I can't focus on anything. The papers on my desk are just blurred shapes, and the voices of my employees are nothing but a distant hum. I'm about to get up and leave again—to search for Yifei anywhere she might be—when my assistant appears at the door.
"Mr. Hu, this is for you. A courier from Zheng Legal Group just delivered it," she says, handing me a thick envelope.
The name hits my conscience like a punch to the gut. A wave of cold rushes down my back. The air in the office grows thick, hard to breathe. My fingers tighten around the envelope, as if holding it long enough might change its contents. My mind refuses to accept what this means. But my body already knows.
I wait until she's gone before opening it with shaking hands. Inside is a divorce petition. Yifei filed it—and there's no turning back. The document informs me I need to appear at the Social Affairs Office to confirm the separation. But I don't want to. I can't. Because if I do, Yifei stops being mine.
*****
The relentless pounding on the door and the doorbell ringing nonstop drag me out of unconsciousness. As I barely open my eyes, the world around me is a blurry disaster. Empty beer cans lie scattered across the floor, alongside two whiskey bottles now filled with nothing but air. An overflowing ashtray rests on the coffee table, and the stench of alcohol and despair clings to every corner of the room. The curtains are drawn, but the rays of light filtering through the cracks illuminate the dust floating in the air. The once pristine walls are now stained from everything I've thrown during my fits of rage. One end of the sofa has caved in, as if it had absorbed the weight of my hopelessness. Every object in the room seems to scream my failure.
I try to remember how I ended up like this, but my memory is a whirlwind of confusion. I know I drank last night until my body gave out, though the exact moment I passed out slips away from me.
The pounding resumes, more insistent this time. I groan, feeling the sting of the hangover in every fiber of my being. My muscles are numb, my head throbs with unbearable pain. With inhuman effort, I force myself to stand, stumbling toward the door without even asking who's outside. I don't need to. I know exactly who it is.
When I open it, she's there.
Liu.
The moment I see her, the pain in my chest returns with savage fury. Her betrayal is a spear that pierces me all over again—a cruel reminder of the wreck my life has become.
"What do you want?" I mutter, turning away without even inviting her in. All I want is to get back to the sofa, where at least the dizziness lets me breathe.
She doesn't stay still. She enters without waiting for permission and follows me with determined steps. The shadows in the corners of the room seem to shift, as if they were alive. The silence is so thick I can almost hear the pounding of my own heart—chaotic, erratic. Every step Liu takes echoes against the floor, as if the house itself were reminding me that there's no escape.
"What the hell is that smell?" she asks, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she scans the chaos surrounding me.
"It's the stench of rot," I reply with a bitter laugh, letting myself collapse onto the sofa like an abandoned corpse.
She stays standing in front of me, her eyes scanning the empty bottles, the overflowing ashtrays, the evidence of a man in the middle of self-destruction. But she says nothing about any of it. Instead, she calmly opens her purse.
"We need to talk, Ge, and this time you don't get to push me aside," she begins, pulling something out.
I don't even try to focus on what it is. I don't care.
"I went to the gynecologist. Our baby is fine," she announces with a softness that grates on me.
I blink, a chill racing down my spine.
"Our baby?" I repeat, the words laced with venom. Just the thought makes my stomach turn.
"Yes, our baby," she repeats firmly, handing me a paper.
My eyes finally manage to focus on the image she holds. An ultrasound. A black blotch with a white silhouette at the center. A human in formation. The air thickens. Everything inside me freezes for a few seconds. Then I look away and back at her.
"Get rid of it," I spit, with what little strength I have left.
Liu doesn't flinch. She smiles. A wide, confident, cruel smile. She brings a hand to her belly and strokes it with fake tenderness.
"I'm four months along, Ge. It's too late for an abortion. We're having this baby."
My mind goes blank. Four months. Four fucking months. How could I not have known before? But the answer comes fast. She planned this. I don't know how long she'd been trying, but she pulled it off. And now, by waiting for the perfect moment to tell me, she's ensured there's no turning back.
A knot of rage twists in my chest.
"I'm not going to claim it," I say, covering my face with my forearm, refusing to look at her.
But she doesn't give up.
"You have to. It's yours," she insists, her voice teetering between demand and manipulation.
I don't want to keep having this absurd conversation. Not now. I'm in no state to reason. I feel her move, leaning over the filth-covered table.
"Divorce?" she suddenly says, her voice a mix of surprise and delight. "Perfect."
Just hearing that word on her lips ignites me like a match to a powder keg.
"I'm not divorcing Yifei!" I roar, pulling my arm away from my face and jumping to my feet—stumbling, but driven by fury.
Liu doesn't move. She watches me with the certainty of someone who already won.
"Don't you realize you have no choice?" Her voice is slow poison—lethal. "She's filed the papers and you can't stop it. She's been well advised by that law firm."
The sarcasm in her tone is a provocation I can't take.
"I'm not signing!" I shout, and before I know it, my hand wraps around her neck.
I don't squeeze hard, but the touch alone freezes her in place. Liu struggles at first, but my strength is in shambles, and she finally manages to push me away.
She takes a moment to catch her breath, though there's no fear on her face. Only satisfaction.
"That's not your final word, Ge," she whispers, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.
I glare at her.
"You know why?" she continues, tilting her head with mocking sweetness. "Because the final word belongs to me."
And with that sentence, she turns and walks out, leaving her perfume lingering in the air.
I remain there, in the middle of the wreckage, listening to the echo of her heels until the door slams shut. I sink back onto the sofa, powerless, lost, hopeless. Life keeps hitting me harder each time. And I'm terrified I still haven't reached the bottom.
CHAPTER 37
The slam of the door echoes through Hu Ge's house as I leave, but I don't bother looking back. I don't need to see the wreck on his face to know I've won. I feel it in every step I take. I pick up my pace, almost as if I'm running—though, in truth, I'm heading straight toward the solution.
A thought begins to take shape in my mind as I walk down the street. How can I force him to face reality? How do I drag him exactly where I need him without leaving him a way out?
The answer strikes me like lightning.
Exposure.
If Hu Ge doesn't want to lose his image, if he doesn't want the whole world to see what he's done, then there's only one way to get through to him.
I smile, allowing myself a moment to savor the thrill of strategy. I quicken my pace until I reach my home and, the moment I'm inside, I head to the living room. I need to set the stage.
I push the furniture aside, leaving only the sofa behind me. I don't want the room to look fancy. The atmosphere has to reflect sadness, humility, and suffering. Almost empty—but not so much that it looks staged.
I go to the bedroom and open the wardrobe. My eyes scan each garment until I find what I'm looking for: a plain white T-shirt—no logo, no style, no shine. I put it on along with a worn-out dark jacket, one I rarely wear because it doesn't have the glamour I usually demand.
I look at myself in the vanity mirror. I still look too good. Too strong. That's not the image I want to project.
I tie my hair in a low ponytail, then mess it up with my fingers, letting a few strands fall over my face. Still not enough. I go to the sink and rub my face with soap, avoiding my eyes, so my skin looks pale and dull. Then, with a damp towel, I wipe away any trace of makeup and rub under my eyes until the skin reddens slightly.
A few splashes of water over my hair make it cling to my skin like I haven't slept in days. Perfect.
Back in the living room, I place the ultrasound on the table, next to my phone and the tripod. I adjust the ring light to a dim setting, casting soft shadows over my face. I need people to see a broken woman.
I sit on the sofa, the ultrasound in one hand. I stare at it, memorizing every line, preparing myself for the role of my life.
I take a deep breath and hit the live button.
The screen lights up. My face appears on the stream, and within seconds, the comments start pouring in.
"Goddess, are you okay?"
"You didn't look like this in your last pics, what's going on?"
"Why are you crying?"
I tilt my head and let out a trembling sigh.
"I don't know how to begin this…" My voice is low, broken. I bring a hand to my face, taking a deep breath, as if I'm gathering courage. "Today I need to tell you something that's torn me apart."
The comments explode. Thousands of eyes are on me now. Perfect.
"I've always been transparent with you," I continue, my gaze fixed on the camera. "I've always shared my happiness, my success, my love for life. But I made a mistake. A mistake that's cost me everything."
I pause, as if the words hurt. I lower my gaze and press the ultrasound to my chest, holding it gently.
"I fell in love. I fell in love with a wonderful man—someone who made me feel special, protected…" My lips tremble. "But I didn't know he was already committed."
The comment section blows up. "What?" "Are you saying you were the other woman?" "Who is this man?"
"I don't want to name names," I say with a long sigh. "I'm not here to point fingers but to take responsibility. I was wrong. I trusted him blindly, without asking questions. I believed his promises, his love… and now I have to face the consequences."
I look at the ultrasound, sliding my fingers gently over it.
"I'm pregnant."
The impact is immediate. The comments multiply at dizzying speed.
"I know many of you will judge me. I understand. I've hated myself for not seeing the truth sooner. But now I have to look ahead. I can't keep punishing myself. I have to think about my baby, about our future."
My voice softens, as if lost in thought.
"The good news is—there's a way forward." I lift my gaze, letting a flicker of hope shine in my eyes. "He's getting a divorce. We're going to start over, as a family."
I let out a shaky laugh, as if it's a release after so much pain.
"I want to apologize to his wife. Truly. I know there are no words that can repair that pain, but I want her to know I never meant to hurt her. I never wanted to be the other woman."
I place a hand on my belly.
"Now, everything is different. Now there's a life growing inside me, a life that's not to blame for any of this. I just want to give that baby love, stability, a home. And I know he wants that too."
The comments are divided—some supporting me, others attacking without mercy.
"You're a slut."
"How could you do this to another woman?"
"He doesn't love you; he used you."
None of it matters. The only thing that does is that the news is out. The only thing that matters is that Hu Ge is cornered now.
I fake a sob, covering my mouth with one hand.
"I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know how people will judge me. But what I do know… is that this baby deserves the best. And I'm going to fight for it."
I breathe deeply.
"Thank you to everyone who listened. Thank you for understanding me."
And with one final sigh, I end the stream. Silence fills the room as I turn off the camera. My hands are shaking—not from nerves, but from the adrenaline. The first part of my plan is in motion. Within minutes, the video will be everywhere—on every platform, every social feed, every gossip headline. Hu Ge won't be able to take a single step without being asked about our child. Now, all that's left is to wait. Because the next blow… will be the final one.
CHAPTER 38
The headache is unbearable. Each pulse throbs in my skull like an unrelenting hammer strike. A sharp blow. Then another. And another. It's hard to open my eyes, but I do. The little light filtering through the closed curtains hits me cruelly, forcing me to squint. I shift on the couch, and something rolls across the floor with a metallic clink. I blink several times until my vision stops being a blur of shadows.
More empty beer cans litter the carpet. I finished off the whiskey I had in the house, and now I've started on the wine. The ashtray is so full I've started putting out cigarettes on the glass table. A disaster. A perfect reflection of what I am right now. I don't remember when I passed out. All I remember is Liu's visit, her smug smile, the ultrasound she forced me to look at, and her voice echoing in my head:
"I'm four months along, Ge. It's too late for an abortion."
I clench my jaw. I don't want that child. I never planned to have a family with her. Never. The only woman I ever wanted to build a family with was Yifei. My wife.
My muscles protest as I try to stand. My body is heavy; the hangover has me chained to this sofa. I reek of alcohol. Of smoke. Of failure. But I can't stay here. Not today. I have to get ready for the office, to keep showing the image of the unbreakable man, the untouchable CEO, the one who never falters for anyone or anything.
I stagger to the bathroom. I lean against the sink and lift my head toward the mirror. What I see disgusts me. Deep bags under my eyes, bloodshot stare, the shadow of an unkempt beard.
You look like a fucking corpse, Hu Ge.
Before I turn on the shower, something annoys me more than my own reflection. The phone. It vibrates on the living room table like a dying insect fighting for one last breath. Notifications. Calls. I don't care. Not today.
I ignore it. I step under the freezing water. I need to wash off this damn weight clinging to my skin. The cold bites at my muscles, but it keeps me alert. It reminds me I'm still breathing. That I still exist.
Yifei will come back.
She'll know I froze the divorce, that she's not free yet, and then she'll come back to demand answers. She won't be able to ignore me. When she's in front of me, when I have her near again, I'll ask for forgiveness. No—I'll beg. I'll do whatever it takes for her to give me one last chance. Everything will go back to the way it was.
I think about Liu's child. Maybe… maybe this can help.
Yifei always wanted to be a mother. After the miscarriage, she was shattered. Her body shut down on her, and I was incapable of comforting her. But if I adopted the baby… if we raised it together… Liu would disappear from our lives, and we'd be a family of three. Just like it was meant to be.
I think my mind has stopped functioning properly to be thinking like this…
I step out of the shower and grab a towel. As I dry my hair, I walk toward the dressing room. Her clothes are still here. A fucking reminder of everything I've lost. The dresses she picked so carefully, the blouses she wore on our dates, her winter coats… Everything is still intact.
But Yifei is gone.
With a quiet fury rising in my chest, I start pulling each piece out and throwing it to the floor. One by one. Without pause. Without control. I can't bear to look at them. I don't want them here when she returns.
I carry the pile of clothes down the stairs. My house is full of memories that shouldn't be here when she comes back. I step out into the garden and stop in front of the empty pond. It's been out of use for a long time.
The day Yifei lost the baby, she asked me to shut it down. She couldn't stand the sight of it anymore—she used to spend afternoons there, watching the fish while she caressed her belly and spoke to our child. Since then, it's remained a dry hole, a lifeless void, a symbol of what happened to us.
I open my fingers and let the clothes fall in.
I walk to the little barbecue that hasn't been used in three years. Three years since I stopped spending Sundays with my wife. Since I chose to be with another woman. Since I betrayed her.
I grab a lighter and roll it between my fingers. A click. Flame.
Heat wraps around Yifei's dresses. They writhe as if they were alive. The flames rise, painting the garden in shades of orange. I'll buy her new clothes.
When she comes back, there won't be any trace of the past. Only in the future will we rebuild together.
I go back inside. The phone is still ringing. I sigh impatiently. Is it my parents? I haven't seen them in months. They're probably calling to ask why I haven't visited. I could come up with some excuse… but what's the point? My whole life has been one excuse after another.
I step through the scattered beer cans and reach the coffee table. I pick up the phone. My heart skips a beat. Over fifty missed calls. Two hundred notifications. A chill races down my spine. My fingers tighten around the device. I unlock the screen. The call list. Some names I recognize. Others I don't. But what unsettles me most are the alerts—nearly all of them are from Liu's account. Something churns inside me.
What the hell has she done now?
My mind drifts for a second. Did she post the new dress I bought her? Show off some jewelry? I shouldn't care—but something urges me to look. I hit play on the video. And then I hear her. And see her. And my world collapses.
Liu appears on screen with messy hair, a bare face, and an expression of pain that doesn't suit her. She's staged the whole thing.
"I never thought I'd find myself in this situation," she says, her voice trembling. "I fell in love with a man I thought was perfect. Who promised me a future together. But I never knew he was married… not until it was too late."
My fingers dig into the phone. That bitch.
"Now I'm pregnant with his child. And though the pain of being the mistress weighs on me, I know everything will be okay. Because he's going to divorce… We're getting married… We'll be the happiest family in this city."
Whore!
The scream escapes my throat with such fury it hurts my chest. The phone slips from my hands. I run to the bedroom, grab the first shirt I find, and dress in a frenzy. Liu just destroyed me. And the worst part is—she did it smiling.
CHAPTER 39
I walk through the halls of my company with my back straight, though every step I take requires superhuman effort. The eyes of my employees pierce through me like daggers, stabbing into my skin, my soul. I don't need to ask what they know. I can see it in their eyes, in their hushed whispers, in the way they look away when I approach. They know I'm the cheating husband—because they've seen Liu show up at my office more than once.
I introduced her as a talented actress, gave her a contract, helped her. And this is how she repays me. I turned a futureless opportunist into a symbol of success, and now she's the one who's destroyed mine.
What irony. What fucking irony.
A group of employees pretends to be engrossed in their screens, but as soon as I pass by, their whispering fades. A woman hurriedly shoves her phone into her purse, as if afraid I'll catch her watching something she shouldn't. But I already know. They've all seen it. They've all heard Liu's video. And now they judge me.
These halls used to belong to me. Every corner of this building was an extension of my will. Now I walk through hostile territory, like a dethroned king clinging to a power he no longer holds.
In front of me, in the form of a conference room filled with partners ready to pass judgment, lies my greatest sentence. I step into the room and feel the weight of their stares. They look like twenty-five reapers—ghosts from a nightmare, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But I won't give them that pleasure. I walk in with courage, without fear, with pride. Or at least, with the appearance of it.
My assistant stands at my side, as if she's become the last remaining support I have in this company. She places a tablet in front of me, and on the screen, I see how, after Liu's video, our shares have started to plummet. Society doesn't forgive infidelity, at least not when it goes public. It's an amusing contradiction, really, because not long ago, a man could have a wife and several mistresses, and no one would bat an eye. But now, in this era of social media and public trials, one mistake can destroy everything you've built.
I swipe the graphs aside and hand the tablet back to my assistant. In the single glance we exchange, her eyes tell me what I already know: this is going to be hard to fix. Not even I have found a solution that doesn't lead to my own downfall. I can't resign. I won't resign. This company was born from my youth, my effort, my determination. I was only twenty when I made my first investment and earned enough to keep going investing, producing, saving. The big projects came later, but they weren't easy. After endless nights of drinking, dinners, and near-impossible favors, I became a successful businessman.
Marrying Yifei was the height of my happiness. I wanted to give her everything she could ever desire. But she never asked for anything. She had her own company and was as strong as I was. A marriage made in heaven—destroyed by my lack of judgment.
I hear deep breaths. The executioners are readying their blades, and I, unfortunately, must receive every blow with a serious face, a broken heart, a trampled pride, and a clenched jaw threatening to crack my teeth.
The first to speak is the oldest partner, a gray-haired man with cold eyes who has always been more of a rival than an ally.
"Hu Ge, this is unacceptable," he says, his voice booming like thunder across the room. "Your personal life has affected the company. Our shares are dropping, our investors are worried, and our competitors are wasting no time capitalizing on this situation."
"Miss Liu's video has caused irreparable damage. It could affect our acquisitions," another chimes in.
Our investors. Not your investors. No. Our. Because now they believe this company no longer belongs to me. That they have the right to decide my future. I cross my arms defiantly. I won't back down. I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me cornered.
"Let's be clear," says another one, his voice sounding like a death sentence. "The scandal is damaging the company's image. Like it or not, your personal life is now impacting on our business."
My business. These are my businesses. I built them. I sacrificed years of my life to grow this company. But now they talk as if they're doing me a favor by letting me stay. I burn inside—but I can't afford to explode. Not here. Not when my future depends on every word I say.
"I don't know what's more shocking, Hu Ge," says one of the partners with a sneer, "that you cheated on your wife like some reckless teenager, or that you were stupid enough to leave evidence."
My jaw tightens, but I keep my composure. The only thing I can do now is fight for the company I built with my own hands, for what remains of my reputation—and not to lose everything. I don't answer right away. I need to control my anger, my frustration, my pain. But I can't let them see me weak.
"I understand your concern," I say, with more strength than I expected. "But this is a temporary issue. I will take the necessary steps to fix it."
"What steps?" asks another partner, younger but just as ruthless. "What are you going to do—issue another statement? Tell another lie?"
The word lie echoes in my mind like an endless drumbeat. I can't help it. I rise from my chair, feeling the fury and desperation rise inside me.
"I won't allow my personal life to destroy what I've built," I say with fire in my voice. "This company is my life—my legacy. And I won't let anyone, not even myself, ruin it."
The partners exchange glances, but no one says a word. They know I'm right. They know that, despite everything, I am the brain behind this company. But they also know my reputation is on the line—and that's something they can't ignore.
"We need a solution, Hu Ge," says the senior partner, his voice calmer now but just as firm. "And we need it now."
I nod, feeling the weight of their expectations crush down on me.
"I know," I reply, my voice barely steady. "I'll give you a solution. But I need time."
They murmur among themselves but eventually nod in agreement. They know they don't have another option. They know that without me, this company wouldn't be what it is. But I also know that without them, I can't do anything.
I leave the boardroom with my head held high, though my heart is sinking. My assistant follows me in silence, as if she knows that any word right now would be pointless.
"Set up a meeting with the PR team," I order, my voice was colder than I expected. "We need to control this before it slips through our fingers."
She nods and walks away, leaving me alone in the hallway. I lean against the wall, feeling the weight of my own choices press down on me like a slab of stone.
Today they want my head on a platter—but they won't get it.
Not yet.