Chapter 182
Lucien dropped the phone onto the desk, his jaw clenching as he stared out over the city.
Half of Feng Group.
Gone.
Half of everything he had fought for, bled for, sacrificed for, gone, with one call. But he didn’t care.
He moved to the minibar and poured himself a drink he didn’t really want. The whiskey caught the light as he swirled it absently, his mind a whirl of thoughts he couldn’t silence.
He hated himself. Not because he was losing everything, but because it was the only thing he could give her now. The only thing left he knew how to offer.
He couldn’t give her peace.
He couldn’t give her Meilin back.
He couldn’t give her trust.
So he gave her everything else.
Maybe, if she chose to never return, this would make it easier, a way to protect her from his shadow, from the poison that came with being part of his world.
He lifted the glass to his lips, but he didn’t drink. Instead, he set it back down, his hands tightening against the counter.
He’d thought power could protect the people he loved. That money, control, dominance, they’d be enough to shield her from the kind of pain he grew up watching destroy his family.
But now he understood, power didn’t protect. It only consumed.
His reflection stared back at him from the window, tired eyes, unshaven jaw, a man who looked far older than he had just a week ago.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this powerless.
The intercom buzzed. His assistant’s voice came through softly. “Mr. Feng? The board meeting you postponed last week has been rescheduled for eleven. Would you like me to confirm your attendance?”
Lucien’s lips parted, but no sound came for a moment.
Then, quietly, “No. Cancel it.”
“Yes, sir.”
The line clicked off.
Lucien turned back toward his desk, the flicker of the city lights still glinting against the polished marble surface. On it lay the phone, silent, waiting.
Part of him still hoped, foolishly, that it would ring. That it would be her.
That she’d tell him she didn’t believe Ethan, that she still trusted him, that she wanted to come home. But the screen stayed dark.
He exhaled, long and hollow, before collapsing into his chair again.
Now, Lucien Feng, the man who built empires, destroyed rivals, and ruled the city from boardrooms and back channels, felt utterly helpless.
He had just given away half his world to protect the woman who couldn’t even bear to look at him. And in that moment, it felt like the only decision that had ever made sense.
Florence had been pacing the marble hallway of Feng Group’s executive floor for nearly ten minutes before she finally knocked on her brother’s door.
The receptionist had already warned her that he hadn’t spoken to anyone all day, that he’d locked himself in since morning, taking no meetings, answering no calls.
She’d seen the look on Serena’s face earlier, pale, tired, trying to stay composed while sipping tea her mother had forced into her hands. It had broken something in Florence, seeing her like that. Serena wasn’t just family now, she was the woman who’d softened Lucien, who’d made him human again.
But whatever this thing was between them, it was shattering both.
She pushed open the heavy glass door without waiting for a reply.
Lucien was seated at his desk, suit jacket gone, tie loose, sleeves rolled to his elbows. The late afternoon light bled across his face, catching the sharp angles of exhaustion there. He didn’t even look up when she entered.
Florence closed the door quietly and leaned against it, folding her arms. “You look like hell.”
Lucien didn’t answer. His pen hovered over a document he hadn’t touched in over an hour.
Florence sighed, crossing the room and stopping in front of his desk. “You sent me to Serena’s house like some messenger, and now you’re sitting here acting like you’ve lost the world. So, talk to me, Lu. What’s really going on?”
Still, silence.
Her tone softened. “It’s about Meilin, isn’t it?”
That made him stop. His hand froze midair, and for the first time since she walked in, his eyes lifted to meet hers, cold, tired, and heavy with something deeper than guilt.
Florence’s heart dropped. “So it is.”
Lucien leaned back slowly, rubbing his temples. “You shouldn’t be asking about that.”
“I wouldn’t,” she shot back, “if your wife wasn’t breaking down over it. She thinks you lied to her. That you...”
“I did,” Lucien interrupted quietly.
Florence blinked. “What?”
He exhaled and leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the desk. His voice dropped to that low, raw timbre that only came out when he was done pretending. “I lied. But not about what she thinks.”
Florence hesitated, confusion flickering across her face. “Then what is it, Lucien? What’s the truth?”
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner and the distant city noise below. Then he spoke, voice even, but stripped of all his usual armor.
“Meilin Zhao isn’t dead.”
Florence froze, her mouth parting slightly.
“She was almost trafficked,” Lucien continued, staring down at his clasped hands. “Years ago. I was twenty, still trying to clean up the mess Father left behind. There was a raid on one of the underground chains Zhao Group was secretly backing. I was there because of a lead, but before I could move, someone warned me. A girl.”
His jaw clenched. “That girl was Meilin.”
Florence felt the breath leave her. “You mean she...”
“She saved me,” Lucien said quietly. “She had seen what they were doing. She tried to escape. I got her out before the place went up in flames. The others… didn’t make it.”
The silence between them turned suffocating.
Florence’s brows drew together, her voice dropping to a whisper. “So you’ve known all along. You knew who she was.”
Lucien nodded slightly. “I hid her. Set her up under a different name. Sent her abroad with new documents. It was the least I could do.”
Florence stared at him, torn between disbelief and awe. “You... You protected her?”
He looked up then, his expression unreadable. “It wasn’t out of mercy, Florence. It was debt. If she hadn’t saved me that night, I’d be in a morgue right now. So when the chance came, I repaid it.”
Florence frowned. “Then why didn’t you tell Serena? It could have cleared everything.”
Lucien’s lips twisted into something between a grimace and a weary smile. “Because Meilin disappeared again. A year ago. Vanished without a trace. Not even my people can find her. And if Serena knew that… she’d break. She’d think I failed her best friend, or worse, that I was still hiding something.”
He stood up then, moving toward the window. The city stretched endlessly below, a sea of silver and glass that somehow felt colder than ever.