Chapter 18

Chapter 18
THE CHENG'S ESTATE — WEDDING DAY

10:04 AM — LIAN’S ROOM

Lian sat in front of the mirror, dead quiet, watching himself in the reflection. The makeup artist had just finished fixing the last bit of concealer under his eyes, but his hands were still shaking. The weeding gown was tight around the ribs, heavy at the shoulders. Pure white. Designer. Expensive as hell.

"Everything alright?" the stylist asked, adjusting the veil for the third time.

Lian nodded, even though nothing was alright.

He kept thinking about his real name. His real self. But he couldn’t afford to think like that today. Not now. Not when he was about to marry the most dangerous man he'd ever met—and somehow, the only person who had ever made him feel safe.

He glanced down at his hands. Neatly manicured. Polished. Feminine.

Fake.

“Breathe,” Cheng’s voice echoed in his mind from earlier that morning.

“You get through this and we’re done with all the bullshit. Just me and you.”

Lian blinked back the tight feeling in his chest. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

The door opened.

Jin stepped in, Cheng’s right-hand man, looking sharp and slightly stressed. “You ready?”

Lian stood. His knees didn’t want to move at first. But he forced them to.

“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered to himself.



The church looked like a damn movie set. White drapes everywhere, gold-trimmed chairs lined up, security at every corner with earpieces and dead eyes. The place reeked of money and control.

The air was too cold for June. Or maybe that was just Lian's nerves. His palms were sweating even though his hands were ice. The dress was too tight, the heels too high, the veil too heavy. He hated every damn thing about it.

Guests were already seated mafia bosses, business heads, rich socialites in couture. Everyone turned when Lian stepped out onto the aisle.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Not applause. Not admiration. Curiosity. Judgment. A few cameras clicked quietly. One woman whispered to her husband, "Is that the same girl from the tabloid scandal last year? She looks different."

Cheng stood at the altar, all black suit, no tie, dark hair slicked back. His face didn’t show much, but his eyes locked on Lian and didn’t move.

The walk down the aisle was hell.

Every step felt like dragging a coffin behind him. Every stare was a weight on his back. But Lian didn’t flinch. Didn’t show fear. Just like he’d practiced.

His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. He spotted Vivian in the front row, legs crossed, blood-red dress like a damn warning sign. Her smile was small and fake and ready to explode.

He reached Cheng. The man leaned in slightly.

"You look like you're about to pass out."

"I might," Lian whispered. This man seems to read all his emotions which he still wonder how he does.

Cheng smirked. "I'll catch you."

The priest cleared his throat. The ceremony began.

THE CEREMONY BEGINS

"We are gathered here today..."

Everyone listened. Everyone watched.

Reporters subtly recorded with their phones.

One whispered, "This is bigger than the De Luca wedding last fall. And she's—I mean, she's way prettier than I expected."

Vivian's lips twitched. Her fingers were tight around her champagne glass.

Mei stood on the balcony with her mother, unseen by the crowd. Her arms were folded. Her face unreadable.

"He’s doing good," Mrs. Wilson whispered.

Mei didn't answer.

Back at the altar, the priest continued.

"Do you, Cheng Li, take Mei Wilson to be your lawfully wedded wife—"

"I do," Cheng said. No hesitation.

The priest turned to Lian.

"And do you, Mei Wilson, take Cheng Li to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Lian's throat dried up. He hesitated a second too long.



Lian opened his mouth, ready to fake the biggest "I do" of his life.

When the gasp hit.

A sharp inhale from the entire room. Heads turned. Phones lifted. The music cut.

Behind them—on the giant LED screen meant to display wedding photos—a video started playing.

Moans. Flesh. Movement.

Mei. With men.
Different men. One after the other. Faces blurred, but Mei’s wasn’t.

The room exploded into stunned whispers and camera flashes. Reporters jumped out of their seats like they were at a crime scene.

"Is that her?"

"No fucking way, she's one big fucking bitch".

“Turn that shit off!”

The screen went black after a few seconds, but the damage was done.

All eyes flew back to the altar.

Reginald Li was already out of his seat, storming toward the stage. “This is an embarrassment! That whore is not marrying my son!”

Vivian stood too, her red dress practically vibrating with excitement. “Cheng, this is insane. You saw that. That’s not a woman who deserves your name!”

Lian stood perfectly still. Pale as a ghost. But his hands didn’t shake. His posture didn’t change. His expression was totally blank.

Cheng looked at the screen. Then at Lian.

Then he turned to his father.

“I said…” Cheng's voice was low, dangerous, “sit the fuck down.”

Reginald froze. His nostrils flared. “You don’t know what you're doing—”

“I do.” Cheng looked at Lian again. “She’s mine.”

Vivian scoffed loudly. “After what you just saw?! That’s not love, that’s blackmail or some sick fantasy. She’s not even”

“I said,” Cheng growled, eyes locked on her now, “if you speak again, you’re out. Don’t test me, Vivian.”

Vivian clenched her jaw. Her lips pressed into a line. She sat. But she didn't stop glaring.

Cheng turned to the priest. “Continue.”

Everyone was holding their breath.

The priest, wide-eyed and sweating, cleared his throat. “R-right. Um… Mei Wilson, do you take Cheng Li”

“I do.”
Lian’s voice was flat. Calm. Almost deadpan. Like he wasn’t just publicly humiliated in front of every dangerous person in the country. Like nothing had happened at all.

Cheng smirked faintly. He took her hands.

"You sure you want this?" he asked under his breath.

Lian tilted his head slightly, his eyes unreadable. “You’re a lunatic.”

“I know.” He leaned closer. “Lucky for you, I like trouble.”

The priest didn’t know what to do with the tension but hurried through the next part.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the—”

Cheng grabbed Lian by the waist and kissed him hard.

The cameras exploded. Gasps, flashes, shouts.

Vivian looked like she was going to throw up.

Reginald stormed out.

But Cheng didn’t stop. He pulled Lian even closer.

Lian didn’t smile. He didn’t blink.
He just let it happen—like kissing the man who just threw the world into chaos was nothing.



Mei Wilson was practically vibrating with rage she watched all the wedding event in secret.

She tore off her sunglasses and tossed them to the ground.

“I swear to fucking God—who the hell leaked that video?!” she seethed, her voice bouncing off the concrete walls. Her hoodie was zipped up to her chin, her cap pulled so low over her forehead it nearly touched her nose, but nothing could hide the fire burning behind her eyes.

Mrs. Wilson reached for her daughter’s arm, voice trembling. “Mei, please—calm down.”

“Calm down?” Mei turned on her with a snarl. “They played a fucking sex tape at my wedding. A sex tape that was supposed to be buried in a goddamn secret.”

Mr. Wilson, standing guard near the car, kept glancing toward the elevator. “Keep it down. We don’t need anyone spotting you.”

“I don’t give a shit who sees me!” Mei shouted. “If one more person blinks wrong, I’ll rip out their fucking eyeballs.”

Mrs. Wilson gasped, but didn’t bother scolding. It wouldn’t land.

Mei paced, her boots thudding against the cement. “This was planned. This wasn’t some last-minute ‘oops my laptop got hacked’ shit. This was intentional. Timed. Targeted.”

“Your brother handled it,” her mom whispered, her voice almost hopeful. “He didn’t break. He didn’t walk away.”

Mei froze.

Her mouth twitched.

“Oh, yeah? Big applause for the impersonator.” She turned and jabbed a finger in the air. “Lian’s out there playing house with my ring, in my dress, with my damn man, while I’m hiding in a parking lot looking like a broke-ass vigilante.”

Mr. Wilson cleared his throat. “Lian didn’t run, Mei. You should be proud of that. It protected you.”

Mei’s head snapped toward him.

“Protected?” she repeated, like the word offended her. “Oh, so now I’m a damsel, huh? Sitting on the sidelines while my brother eats bullets for me? Nah. Nah, fuck that. We fix this. We turn this whole game around.”

Mrs. Wilson’s voice broke. “What the hell do you plan to do?”

Mei leaned against the wall, pulled her hoodie down halfway, and sighed like it hurt to even answer.

“hmm! Seems Lian has a lot of enemies which will eventually become mine soon. I'll make sure to fuck them up really hard.

“I plan to take my fucking crown back.”

“Mum, Dad you know what to do next.