Zhou Meilan's expression shifted.
"How dare you," she said quietly.
"I dare because it is true," Deyong said. "Your family had nothing before this marriage and they have nothing now except what my name gives them. So get off my back, get out of my study, and do not come back in here until you have remembered what it cost to get through that door."
The room was very still.
Zhou Meilan looked at him for a long moment, something cold and calculating moving behind her eyes.
Then she straightened her jacket, lifted her chin, and walked out.
The door did not slam. That was somehow worse.
Deyong sat back down and pressed his fingers to his temple.
He had meant every word.
He also knew, with the weary certainty of a man who had been married long enough to understand consequences, that he was going to pay for every single one of them.
ShangYan was in Beijing.
And somewhere in this city, his son was living a life Deyong had no access to.
