Li Wei walked out of the conference room with his spine stiff and his pulse thrumming in his throat. He had done it. He had said no to Chen Lihuan—in front of the entire school board, no less. The look on the Alpha's face, a fleeting crack in the mask of control, was seared into his memory.
It was intoxicating.
And terrifying.
Because Alpha men like Chen Lihuan didn't lose.
By the time the school day ended, the exhilaration had faded, replaced by a cold knot of dread. Colleagues eyed him with a mix of curiosity and caution, their whispers trailing him like smoke. He answered politely, kept his head down, then fled the moment the bell rang.
That night, still in his rumpled dress shirt, sleeves pushed up, Li Wei updated his resume. Every line he typed felt like an act of resistance. Experience. Certifications. Glowing student reviews. He applied to schools in other districts, other cities—hell, other provinces. He wasn't chasing opportunity. He was chasing distance. Autonomy. Escape.
But instead of interviews, the next morning brought a different kind of attention.
Phone calls.
Curious friends. Distant colleagues. Acquaintances he barely remembered.
"Did you really turn him down?"
"He's taking a personal interest in your future."
"I heard the Chen Group might pull funding if you don't… reconsider."
Then came the email.
Not from a school.
From the Chen Group.
Subject: Request for Private Consultation: Revised Terms of Engagement
Beneath the polished language, the message was clear. A reworked offer—one that traded in finer words but not in meaning. Marriage, buried beneath "academic consulting" and "lifetime financial security." It glittered like gold. But it smelled like ownership.
And the final clause? A threat so perfectly veiled it might pass for courtesy.
If he declined, the Chen Group would re-evaluate its philanthropic relationship with his school.
Li Wei slammed the laptop shut, nausea climbing up his throat. This wasn't courtship. This was coercion.
Desperate, he called a hiring manager from one of the schools he'd applied to.
She sighed, almost regretful.
"Your credentials were excellent, Mr. Li. But… we've received some external advice regarding your situation. The board has decided to move in a different direction."
She didn't need to say whose advice.
That night, a black car idled outside his apartment. Inevitable.
A man in a dark suit emerged. "Mr. Chen requests your presence."
"Requests," Li Wei echoed, bitter. "Or demands?"
No answer. Just a silent gesture toward the car.
---
Chen's penthouse hadn't changed. Cold, sleek, immaculate. Chen stood by the window, a silhouette etched against Seoul's glittering skyline.
"You're making this difficult," Chen said without turning.
Li Wei stayed still. "I said no."
Chen faced him now. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous.
"You rejected a version. This one is more accommodating."
His voice was velvet steel, sliding under the skin.
"You don't understand—"
"No, you don't," Chen snapped, stepping forward. "Your family's debts. Your school's reliance on my funding. Your suddenly shrinking list of career options."
Each word landed like a cuff to the jaw.
"You're cornering me," Li Wei whispered.
"I'm securing what's mine."
That line. It wasn't love. It was conquest.
Chen stepped into his space, close enough for Li Wei to feel the heat of him, to be swallowed by his scent. It wrapped around him, heavy, inescapable.
"The contract is signed," Chen said. "You move in next week. Your own floor. Your own space. I'm not a monster, Li Wei. But I'm done asking."
Li Wei's heart thundered in his chest.
He could've broken. He could've begged.
Instead, he lifted his chin—and stared the Alpha down.
"Fine. You've bought my presence. My time. My address."
Then his voice dropped to a cold, bitter whisper.
"But you'll never have my heart. Not this time."
For the first time, Chen faltered. Just for a breath. Surprise, sharp and fleeting, flashed across his face.
Not submission.
Not surrender.
A declaration of war.