The last thing I saw of London was her.
Not directly. Not in some dramatic, cinematic goodbye.
Just the memory of her walking away, dissolving into a crowd that didn't deserve how real she felt.
I didn't get her number.
Didn't get a conversation beyond fragments.
Didn't get anything that could be held onto in the way people usually define connection.
And yet…
I wasn't disappointed.
Not even close.
—
The plane ride back to China was quiet.
Private cabin. Controlled temperature. Perfect stillness.
Everything exactly the way it should be.
I sat by the window, watching clouds stretch endlessly beneath me like something soft enough to fall into.
For once, my mind wasn't racing ahead.
It stayed… there.
London.
Her.
Rebecca Quinn.
—
I smiled.
Not a small one.
Not polite.
Not practiced.
A real one.
The kind I hadn't felt in years.
It came without effort. Sat on my face like it belonged there.
I didn't question it.
I didn't try to understand it.
I just… let it exist.
—
I had nothing.
No number.
No promise.
No plan.
Just a name.
A few conversations.
A handful of moments.
And somehow… that was enough.
More than enough.
—
Back home, everything resumed exactly where I left it.
The city moved at the same relentless pace.
Glass towers reflecting ambition.
People chasing numbers that never stopped growing.
My world.
My system.
My reality.
—
I stepped into the office the next morning like nothing had changed.
Tailored suit. Measured steps. Controlled presence.
Assistants moved around me like orbiting satellites. Voices low. Efficient. Precise.
"Your 9:30 has been moved to 10."
"The Singapore deal needs your approval."
"Your father requested a briefing by noon."
I nodded. Responded. Signed. Approved.
Everything flowed the way it always did.
Clean. Predictable. Structured.
—
But something was different.
I was… lighter.
Not distracted. Not careless.
Just… lighter.
Like somewhere inside me, a locked door had been opened slightly, and fresh air was slipping through.
—
"You seem in a good mood."
The comment came from across the conference table.
I glanced up briefly.
"Do I?"
"You're smiling," he said.
I hadn't noticed.
—
The meeting continued. Numbers. Projections. Expansion strategies.
All of it made sense. All of it always had.
But for the first time… it didn't feel like everything.
Just… something.
—
Her face crossed my mind again.
Not interrupting.
Just… existing there.
Like a quiet constant.
—
At 11:17, everything broke.
—
My phone vibrated once.
I ignored it.
It vibrated again.
Then again.
Persistent.
Unusual.
I glanced down.
Daniel.
He doesn't call repeatedly unless something's wrong.
I picked up.
"Gregory."
His voice was steady. Too steady.
"Your father—"
A pause.
"He's been taken to the hospital."
Something inside me went still.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Just… still.
"What happened?"
"He collapsed. Possible stroke. They're still assessing."
—
The room around me faded instantly.
Voices became noise. Movement became blur.
I stood up before anyone could say anything.
Chair sliding back. Papers left untouched.
"Cancel everything," I said.
No explanation.
No elaboration.
Just command.
—
The drive to the hospital felt longer than the flight from London.
Traffic stretched endlessly. Time slowed in ways that didn't feel natural.
I stared ahead the entire time.
Not thinking.
Not processing.
Just… waiting.
—
Hospitals smell the same everywhere.
Clean. Sharp. Artificial.
Like something trying too hard to erase what lingers underneath.
—
I walked in fast. Faster than I usually allow myself.
Reception. Elevators. Hallways.
Everything blurred.
—
When I saw him…
Everything stopped again.
—
Christopher Zhang.
The man who never slowed down.
The man who built everything I stand on.
The man who didn't bend. Didn't break. Didn't fall.
Lying still.
Machines breathing softly around him.
Monitors blinking like they were the only things keeping rhythm in the room.
—
I didn't move closer immediately.
I just… stood there.
Looking.
Trying to align what I was seeing with what I knew.
It didn't match.
It didn't make sense.
—
This was the man who controlled everything.
And now…
He couldn't even control this.
—
I stepped forward slowly.
Each step felt heavier than it should have.
My chest tightened in a way I couldn't ignore this time.
—
"Dad…"
The word came out quieter than I expected.
Almost unfamiliar.
—
No response.
Of course not.
—
I stood there, staring down at him.
Confused.
Not just about what had happened.
But about what I was supposed to feel.
—
Fear?
It was there.
Buried.
Sharp.
—
Anger?
Maybe.
At the situation.
At the timing.
At the fact that control—something I rely on—meant nothing here.
—
And then something else.
Something deeper.
Something I hadn't let myself feel in a long time.
—
I blinked.
And my vision blurred.
—
Tears.
—
I didn't wipe them immediately.
I just… let them fall.
Quiet. Uncontrolled. Real.
—
For him.
For everything he is.
For everything he might not be again.
—
And in the middle of that…
My phone vibrated.
—
I almost ignored it.
Almost.
—
But something made me look.
Unknown number.
London.
—
I answered.
"…Hello?"
—
"Mr. Zhang."
The voice was familiar.
The investigator.
—
"This isn't a good time," I said.
My voice was different.
He noticed.
"I understand," he said. "But you might want to see this."
—
A pause.
Something in his tone…
It wasn't urgency.
It was certainty.
—
"What is it?"
"I'll send it."
—
The line cut.
A second later, my phone lit up.
An image.
—
I looked down.
—
Rebecca.
—
She was at her workplace. Camera in hand. Focused. Moving through people the same way she did that first day.
Unbothered. Unaware. Real.
—
For a second…
Everything else disappeared.
The machines.
The room.
The weight pressing against my chest.
All of it faded.
—
And there she was.
—
Perfect.
—
The word came without effort.
Without resistance.
—
I stared at the image longer than I should have.
Long enough for something dangerous to settle in my mind.
—
Then slowly…
I lifted my gaze.
Back to the bed.
Back to him.
—
Christopher Zhang.
Power. Control. Legacy.
Now… fragile.
Uncertain.
Human.
—
I looked between the two.
The image in my hand.
And the man in front of me.
—
Two worlds.
Two realities.
—
One… perfect.
The other…
Almost.
—
I exhaled slowly.
The room felt heavier now.
Clearer.
Sharper.
—
"Wow…" I muttered under my breath.
—
Perfect.
—
My eyes shifted again.
Back to him.
—
Almost perfect.