The glass doors of *Zhao Ming's company headquarters* gleamed like ice beneath the morning sun. Li Na stood at the entrance, her breath sharp against the sting of humiliation still lodged in her chest. Every step forward felt like defiance against the whispers that had haunted her since dawn.
She wasn't here for Zhao Ming. She was here to face the world that had mocked her, to prove she wasn't the weak bride left crying in silk.
The lobby hummed with activity—heels clicking, phones buzzing, employees bowing slightly as they passed. But the moment she entered, heads turned. Some recognized her instantly, their gazes sharp with recognition and gossip. The runaway bride had walked into enemy territory.
Li Na forced her chin higher, her hands tightening around the strap of her bag. *If they want a show, I'll give them one.*
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and soon she was standing before the polished mahogany doors of the top floor: *Director Yen Rui's office.*
The secretary outside, Gao Jie, looked startled. "Miss Chen… you don't have an appointment."
"I don't need one." Her voice was calm, steady. "Tell your Director that the bride who never ran away is here."
Before the secretary could respond, the doors opened.
Inside, the office stretched wide with floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city skyline. At the center stood *Yen Rui* tall, imposing, his tailored black suit fitting like armor. Papers lay neatly stacked on the boardroom table, yet his posture suggested he had been waiting.
His eyes, dark and unreadable, lifted to her. "Miss Chen." His tone was neither surprised nor curious merely factual, as if he had predicted her arrival.
The composure in his voice cut through her anger. She should have shouted, should have demanded answers for Zhao Ming's betrayal, but instead she found herself studying this man whose presence seemed carved from steel.
"I hear," she began, her words clipped, "that your bride failed to arrive yesterday."
Yen Rui's lips twitched neither a smile nor a frown. "And I hear yours chose another woman over you. Quite the coincidence, isn't it?"
The words stung, but he had spoken them without malice. Cold truth. Still, her pride bristled.
"Then it seems," she said, stepping forward until she stood opposite him at the table, "we are both abandoned, Director Yen."
He regarded her in silence, his gaze steady, unblinking. The weight of it pressed against her like gravity.
"Is this why you're here?" he finally asked. "To find pity in someone else's ashes?"
"No." Her voice sharpened. "I came here because pity is for the weak. And I refuse to be weak."
Something flickered in his eyes then an acknowledgment, faint but unmistakable. He leaned back slightly, folding his arms.
"You're not weak," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "But you are reckless."
Reckless. The word burned through her. Maybe he was right. But in that moment, recklessness was all she had left.
Her heart thundered in her chest as the thought formed fully for the first time. The dangerous, impossible idea that had been simmering since last night: If his bride is gone, and my groom is gone, why not…
Her lips parted, ready to throw the madness into words, the spark of defiance already igniting in her eyes.
And though she didn't know it yet, that reckless question would tie her life to his in strings that neither of them could break.