Chapter 183
“I wanted to tell her the truth,” he admitted softly. “Every time she mentioned Meilin, I wanted to. But how do I tell my wife that the woman she’s been mourning might still be alive, and that I’m the reason she disappeared a second time?”
Florence took a step forward, her voice trembling now. “Lucien… are you sure she’s alive?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “But I can’t shake the feeling she is. Somewhere out there.”
Florence swallowed hard, her throat tight. “And Serena?”
Lucien turned then, his eyes dull but steady. “She deserves the truth. But not like this. Not from anyone else’s mouth. Not until I find Meilin.”
Florence watched him in silence, her brother, the man who terrified CEOs and politicians alike, now standing there like a man trapped in his own guilt.
“Lucien…” she said softly, “you’re destroying yourself.”
He gave a hollow laugh. “Maybe. But at least this time, it’s for the right person.”
She shook her head, her eyes glistening. “You’re in love with her. So much that you’d burn everything just to keep her safe.”
Lucien didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. The truth was written all over him, in the sleepless eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the quiet ache that followed her name.
Finally, Florence exhaled and stepped back. “Then find Meilin. End this before it ends the both of you.”
He nodded once, slowly. “I will.”
As Florence left the office, she glanced back one last time, at her brother standing by the window, shoulders squared against the morning light.
He looked powerful still, but lonelier than she’d ever seen him. And she realized, with a sharp twist in her chest, that the only man who had ever saved others his whole life, might never know how to save himself.
Lucien sat in his office, his gaze fixed on the skyline beyond the glass wall long after Florence had left. The city was drenched in late afternoon gold, but inside, the air felt heavy, still, as though it held its breath with him.
He had been sitting there for hours, papers spread across the mahogany desk, his untouched coffee cold.
When the knock came, soft and hesitant, he didn’t immediately answer.
“Come in,” he finally said, his voice low, stripped of its usual command.
The lawyer stepped in, a man in his mid fifties, always impeccably dressed, but even he seemed uneasy today. “Mr. Feng,” he greeted cautiously, clutching a leather portfolio to his chest. “I’ve brought the documents you requested. I just need your signature to finalize the transfer of your shares to Mrs. Feng.”
Lucien’s head lifted slightly at the name. Mrs. Feng. The word cut deeper than he expected.
“Leave them here,” he said first, his tone quiet but carrying the weight of finality.
“Sir,” the lawyer began carefully, “I don’t mean to overstep, but these documents, once you sign them, the Feng Group’s majority control shifts. You’ll no longer hold direct authority over the company. Are you sure about this? You built this empire from the ashes of your father’s mistakes.”
Lucien leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable, but his fingers drummed lightly against the desk, a faint tell of the turmoil beneath. “And now I’m burning it down for something worth more than all of it.”
The lawyer hesitated. “You’re certain Mrs. Feng knows nothing about this transfer?”
“She doesn’t,” Lucien said, eyes flicking toward the window again. “And she doesn’t need to. It’s… protection.”
The lawyer adjusted his glasses, his voice lowering. “Protection? Or punishment?”
That made Lucien still. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkened with something fierce and buried. “Both,” he said at last. “If she never comes back, at least she’ll have something to stand on. Something untouched by lies.”
The lawyer exhaled softly, placing the folder on the desk. “Very well, sir.” He opened it, revealing a neatly stacked set of contracts, black ink on cream paper, crisp and clean, waiting for the final signature that would alter everything.
Lucien picked up the pen slowly, staring down at his name printed across the bottom line. He remembered Serena’s face, the way her eyes had looked at him on that rooftop. The disbelief. The devastation. The heartbreak he’d caused without even meaning to.
If this is the only thing I can give her now…
The pen touched the paper.
With each signature, something inside him bled.
When it was done, the lawyer gathered the papers carefully. “I’ll have these processed immediately, Mr. Feng.”
Lucien nodded wordlessly, his gaze distant again. “Send a copy to my personal vault… and another to her legal team. She doesn’t need to know it came from me.”
“Yes, sir.”
The man turned to leave, but before he could reach the door, Lucien’s voice came again, quieter this time, like a thought he hadn’t meant to say aloud.
“Make sure… if anything happens to me, she’s untouchable.”
The lawyer froze, turning slowly. “Mr. Feng...”
Lucien’s eyes met his, cold and resolute. “You heard me.”
The silence that followed felt thick with unspoken grief.
When the door finally closed behind the lawyer, Lucien stayed still, staring at the city that reflected in the glass before him. His reflection was faint, a ghost outlined against the skyline.
He let out a long breath, then pressed his palms against his face, elbows braced on the desk.
He had just given away everything.
Not because he had to, but because losing Serena hurt more than losing the world itself.