What neither of them knew, what Lu Zeyan couldn't possibly know, was that the narrative was already being rewritten without his input or approval.
Ah-Ling had been busy.
Lu Yuze's assistant had spent his morning doing what he did best: digging up dirt and setting it on fire. The man was a digital arsonist, and he'd just torched Lu Zeyan's entire life.
The fabricated evidence. The bribed witnesses. The financial records didn't add up when you looked at them carefully.
The suspiciously convenient timing of Grandmother Lin's death, right before a wedding where she might have changed her will. The offshore accounts where the embezzled money actually went, accounts that traced straight back to Lu Zeyan through a maze of shell corporations and false names, not to Shuyin at all.
