Dawn broke over the Chen mansion, its pale light doing little to dispel the gloom that had taken root within its walls. Jia had barely slept, her mind a whirlwind of locked doors, cryptic warnings, and David Wei's smug face. She descended the grand staircase, expecting to find her parents in a state of frantic despair.
Instead, she found a bizarre scene in the dining room.
Her father sat at the head of the table, not with his head in his hands, but staring intently at a tablet, a deep frown of concentration on his face. Her mother was sipping tea, her usual look of long-suffering replaced by one of confused curiosity.
And Leo was there.
He was not cowering at the far end of the table. He was standing beside Mr. Chen, pointing at something on the tablet screen. He was still dressed in his simple, worn clothes, but his posture was different. There was an air of quiet authority about him that made the shabbiness of his shirt seem like a deliberate choice, not a sign of poverty.
"...see here," Leo was saying, his voice calm and measured. "The transfer to the offshore account in the Cayman Islands. It's disguised as a payment for 'consulting fees' to a firm that doesn't exist."
Mr. Chen looked up at Leo, his expression a mixture of awe and suspicion. "How… how did you get these financial records? These are protected."
"The walls have ears, Father Chen," Leo said, meeting his gaze steadily. "And sometimes, they have eyes. The point is, the evidence is here. Mr. Ling has been systematically bleeding this company for years."
Jia stood frozen in the doorway, watching the exchange. This was the faceslap, delivered not with shouting, but with cold, hard fact. Her father, who had railed against Leo just hours ago, was now listening to him as if he were a trusted advisor.
"But… what do we do?" Mr. Chen asked, his voice uncharacteristically meek.
"We do nothing," Leo said, straightening up. "We let him believe his plan is working. We let the pressure from the bank build. Panic makes people careless. He will make a mistake, and when he does, we will be ready."
Meiling finally spoke, her voice hesitant. "Leo, dear… where did you learn about such things?"
For the first time, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Leo's lips. It didn't reach his eyes. "A man picks up many skills when he has nothing, Mrs. Chen. Survival is a great teacher."
His eyes then flickered to Jia in the doorway. The glance was brief, but in it, she saw a silent message: *See?*
At that moment, the housekeeper entered, holding a silver tray bearing a single, thick, cream-colored envelope. "For you, sir," she said, presenting it to Mr. Chen.
Mr. Chen tore it open, his hands trembling. He scanned the letter, his face going from pale to flushed with a strange, disbelieving hope.
"What is it?" Meiling demanded.
"It's… it's from a firm. Aurelius Ventures," he stammered. "They've… they've expressed interest in our company. They want to schedule a meeting to discuss a potential investment."
The timing was miraculous. Suspiciously so.
Meiling clasped her hands together. "Praise heaven! A lifeline!"
Mr. Chen looked from the letter to Leo, his eyes wide with a dawning, bewildered realization. The "useless" son-in-law had just presented him with evidence of treason, and moments later, a mysterious savior appears.
Leo simply picked up a piece of toast. "Aurelius Ventures," he said, as if tasting the name. "I've heard they have a keen eye for undervalued assets with strong core principles." He took a bite. "You should take the meeting, Father Chen."
The air in the room crackled with unspoken questions. The gutter rat was not just baring his teeth; he was subtly directing the pack.
Jia finally stepped into the room, her eyes locked on Leo. The romance she had never allowed herself to feel was now intertwined with a thrilling, dangerous awe. The locked door had been opened, just a crack, and the glimpse of what was behind it was more terrifying and exhilarating than she could have ever imagined. The suspense was no longer about whether they would be saved, but about the true identity of the man who was orchestrating it all. The divorce demanded by David Wei now seemed not just insulting, but impossible. How could you divorce a man you were only just beginning to meet?