The boardroom was a battlefield, not with weapons but with words, numbers, and glances sharpened into blades.
Li Na sat quietly at the far end of the long polished table, her presence still drawing stares. The directors had never hidden their skepticism of her marriage to Yen Rui, but after Fang Mei's reappearance, the whispers had turned into outright murmurs of doubt.
"Director Yen," one of the older members began, adjusting his glasses with deliberate slowness, "while your… personal decisions are your own, I must question whether sudden changes in your private life are affecting the company's stability."
Another chimed in, lips curling. "Investors are nervous. A bride who ran away, followed by another who appeared overnight? They're calling it reckless. Even desperate."
The words stung, but Li Na kept her gaze fixed on the table, refusing to let them see her shaken.
Across the room, Yen Rui leaned back in his chair, unbothered, his eyes as cold as stone. "If investors care about gossip more than numbers, then perhaps they are investing in the wrong company."
A ripple of silence followed. His voice carried no tremor, no apology. Yet the directors shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward Li Na as if her mere presence was the distraction they wanted to blame.
Then Han Rui Sheng spoke, his tone smooth, almost sympathetic. "With respect, Yen, it isn't about gossip. It's about perception. Perception drives markets. Perhaps involving Mrs. Yen less visibly in company affairs would ease concerns."
Li Na's head snapped up. Every eye turned to her. The suggestion was clear: she was the liability.
Before she could speak, Yen Rui's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Mrs. Yen is my wife. Her presence is not a liability but an asset. If any of you cannot see that, perhaps you are sitting at the wrong table."
The room froze. Even Han Rui Sheng's practiced smirk faltered.
Li Na's breath caught, her chest tightening. He hadn't looked at her, hadn't softened his tone, but his defense had been absolute, undeniable.
The meeting pressed on, numbers replacing accusations, but the tension lingered like smoke after a fire. When it ended, the directors filed out quickly, their eyes darting between the couple.
Left alone, Li Na finally spoke, her voice low. "Why did you defend me like that?"
Yen Rui turned to her, his expression unreadable. "Because letting them tear you down would be letting them tear me down. And I don't lose battles in my own boardroom."
His words were pragmatic, almost cold, yet something in his tone unsettled her with an edge that sounded less like strategy and more like conviction.
She lowered her gaze, her heart unsteady.
Maybe the whispers outside weren't the real danger. Maybe the real tension was the one pulling tighter inside her chest whenever he stood by her side.