Shanghai. A Week Later.

The rain tapped softly against the panoramic windows of the Zhang International boardroom on the 89th floor, a gentle percussion that belied the storm brewing within. The skyline of Lujiazui blurred beneath heavy, storm-laden clouds, the world outside a muted tapestry of greys. Dexing stood tall at the head of the conference table, delivering the final points of his presentation in a low, confident voice, though it barely masked the fatigue etched into the lines around his eyes. Each word felt like a weight pressing down, a reminder of the tumultuous emotions swirling beneath his composed exterior.

His assistant, Nicole, hovered at the edge of the room, clutching a sleek leather folder against her chest, her posture tense with unspoken concern.

Once the executives from the Spanish vineyard firm had left, Dexing loosened his tie with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world and waved Nicole forward. "Go ahead."

Nicole nodded, stepping forward and sliding the folder onto the table beside his laptop. "These are the documents from the Barcelona acquisition. Also, the architectural plans from the new Luohu site, and…" She hesitated, her eyes searching his face for a hint of reassurance.

His brow lifted, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features. "And?"

"There’s something else." She slid a white envelope, unmarked but thick, from her bag and placed it delicately on the table. "This came through legal this morning. It’s from Mrs. Zhang’s counsel."

His movements froze, the air thickening around him. "Lirong?"

"Yes, sir."

He stared at the envelope for several seconds, as if expecting it to ignite and consume him whole. Finally, he reached out and tore it open with a practiced calm that masked the tempest inside.

The contents spilled into his lap like quiet shrapnel. A crisp cover letter. Pages of legal print. The word DIVORCE in bold type near the top. A demand for: half of all his assets and shares. Full custody of their daughter, Feifei. Sole ownership of their family house in Hangzhou. A statement of emotional neglect, citing chronic absence, dismissiveness, and disregard for grief or loss.

Dexing’s hands stilled on the papers, his breath shallow. A slow-burning heat bloomed behind his sternum, the sensation igniting a mix of disbelief and rage. He blinked once and then twice, trying to process the onslaught of words that felt like daggers piercing through him.

Nicole was watching him carefully, her eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and apprehension. "Would you like me to… contact her?"

He didn’t respond. His eyes dropped again to the lines of cold legal language, reading the part about Feifei. "The Respondent failed to be present in the child’s life in any meaningful capacity. The Petitioner seeks sole custody to protect the emotional welfare of the child."

Something inside him snapped, a visceral reaction that coursed through his veins like fire. It didn’t feel like a warning shot. It felt like war.

He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, the documents sliding from his hand to the ground in a chaotic flutter.

"Leave me," he said quietly, but the tremor in his voice belied his attempt at calm.

Nicole chuckled softly, a nervous laugh that did little to ease the tension. "Mr. Zhang—"

"Get the fuck out, Nicole! Have you gone mad?" he roared, his voice echoing in the room. Frightened, she nodded and exited without another word, leaving him alone with his spiraling thoughts.

Dexing strode to the window, staring out at the bleeding city lights, the kaleidoscope of colors merging into one another in the rain-soaked darkness. For a long moment, he stood in silence, his jaw clenched, his heart rattling against the cage he’d forged for himself.

Memories of Lirong flooded back, the hospital report detailing her pregnancy and the loss. Everything synced to the last time he saw her. How could he have been so clueless, so foolish? He didn’t even know she had been pregnant. He didn’t know she’d lost the baby, and now he was losing his daughter and the most valuable person in his life. Lirong was the light in his darkness, the reason he fought for every breath. How could he lose that light? How could he have let it turn into darkness?

Letting out a slow exhale, he turned back to the papers and picked them up, page by page, forcing himself to read every word of what she’d demanded. Of what she’d endured in silence.

There was no outrage in his face. Instead, Dexing picked up his phone, shaking as he dialed Lirong’s number. It rang and rang, then went to voicemail.

He didn’t leave a message. He wouldn’t dare. He called again. By the fifth try, he stopped, staring at the phone in his hand, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over him. Finally, he dropped it onto the desk, the silence in the room louder than the rain outside.

"Nicole!" He yelled, and she rushed back in.

"My house immediately!"

The moment Dexing’s car screeched into the long private driveway of his mansion, he was already out of the vehicle, tossing his jacket into the back seat as rain began to fall in earnest. His shoes pounded across the marble entryway as he shoved open the front door, breath ragged, suit wrinkled from the airport and the two flights it had taken to return.

"Lirong?" he called, his voice echoing into the stillness of the vast, empty space.

The air felt cold and lifeless. Then, a soft shuffle of feet, and the housekeeper stepped out from the hall, her arms crossed over her apron.

"Mr. Zhang," she greeted with a bow. Huixian, a woman in her fifties who had served the Zhang household for more than a decade, looked at him with confusion. Dexing saw the tight line of her lips and the worry in her gaze.

"Where is she?" he asked, already striding past her toward the master bedroom, desperation fueling his movements.

Huixian followed him quietly, finally saying, "Madam hasn’t returned since you left for Spain."

He stopped mid-step, turning toward her, disbelief washing over him. "What?"

"She went on vacation after you departed. Didn’t say where. Only that she needed time. She left Feifei with Mr. Jinhai… said it was best."

Dexing felt the breath leave his lungs, a tidal wave of shock crashing over him.

"She hasn’t answered any calls either," Huixian added gently. "Not mine. Not the driver’s. Only her secretary’s."

Dexing didn’t respond. He turned sharply, his steps now filled with urgency. Pulling out his phone, he dialed Melody’s number, but he was directed straight to voicemail.

Again. Voicemail. "Damnit!"

Dexing shoved the phone into his pocket and stalked back out, rain soaking through his shirt as he climbed into the car.

"To Jinhai’s," he said to Nicole, his voice steady despite the storm brewing within. "Now. I want a flight history of my wife."

"Yes, sir," Nicole replied, her tone professional, though he could sense the concern beneath it.

The sky had long since darkened, a curtain of rain casting the city in washed-out greys. Dexing stood at the towering black gates of Jinhai’s private estate in Pudong, his fists pounding against the metal like war drums, each strike echoing his desperation.

"Jinhai!" he bellowed, his voice fierce. "Open the damn gate!"

The intercom remained silent. No guards. No movement. Just the hiss of rainfall and the echo of his fury. He banged again, harder and louder, until the skin over his knuckles split, until his voice cracked under the strain.

"Please open the fucking gate, Jin!"

Finally, a click, and the gates rolled open, inch by inch. Dexing didn’t wait. He stormed through the courtyard, his soaked shoes slapping against the slate path, his jaw clenched in determination. The mansion loomed before him.

He took the steps two at a time, pounding on the front door now with the same energy. "Jinhai!"

For a moment, there was only silence, then footsteps approached from within. "You're making a fucking noise, Dexing."

Dexing gasped, frustration boiling over. "Let me see Feifei."

The heavy wooden door cracked open, revealing Jinhai Liu, tall and cold-eyed, wearing a dark sweater and sweatpants. His expression was cold and his jaw ticking once in irritation.

"Feifei needs me. Let me see her," Dexing growled, stepping forward, desperation clawing at his insides.

"How dare you! I warned you, Dexing!" Jinhai muttered, and then, without warning, his fist slammed into Dexing’s face. A clean yet brutal punch that sent him staggering back, blood filling his mouth. He stared at Jinhai, stunned, but he knew he deserved it yet somehow the pain only fueled his anger within him.

Before he could speak, Jinhai hit him again, a sharp blow to the ribs that made Dexing fold for a second. The storm outside surged like applause.

"You want to come into my home," Jinhai said lowly, "after everything you’ve done to my sister? She lost her baby. Where the fuck were you? Closing deals?"

Dexing’s rage snapped. He lunged, his fists colliding with Jinhai’s jaw in a crunch of bone and heat, adrenaline surging through him.

"Don’t you dare lecture me!" he shouted, his voice raw. "You have no idea how much I love Lirong. I fucked up, okay! Every fucking thing I worked for was for her. She's the only reason I breathe! I didn't mean to hurt her. I'd never want to hurt her!"

"Well fuck that! I'm glad she's divorcing you. She deserves someone better! Someone who would cherish her, not you!" Jinhai shot back, fury igniting in his eyes.

Dexing breathed heavily, glaring at Jinhai. "I'd rather burn than see her with someone else."

They grappled in the doorway, slipping on the wet marble floor, slamming into the foyer wall. Jinhai’s shoulder drove into Dexing’s chest, but Dexing threw him off, fueled by a mix of rage and desperation. More punches flew, more curses echoed in the air.

At last, breathless and bloodied, they both collapsed apart.

Dexing leaned against the wall, chest heaving, his shirt plastered to his skin. Jinhai pressed his back to the staircase railing, hand resting on his side where Dexing had landed a solid hit.

"I didn’t know she lost the baby…" Dexing rasped, eyes rimmed red with unshed tears. "I didn’t even know she was pregnant."

Jinhai’s lip curled in disdain. "And that’s the point, isn’t it?"

Silence stretched between them like an abyss. Like a chasm filled with unspoken pain.

Dexing took a trembling step forward, fear creeping into his voice. "I just want to see Feifei. Please. Just once."

Jinhai stared at him for a long time, assessing the sincerity in Dexing’s eyes. Then, he shook his head, resolute.

"No," he said flatly. "You don’t get to see her. Not now."

"Don’t do this," Dexing snapped, his voice breaking under the weight of desperation. "She’s my daughter."

"And Lirong is my sister. My blood. And after what she’s been through because of you? I’m not about to hand her child back to the man who made her cry every night for months."

Dexing’s fists trembled at his sides, the truth hitting him like a physical blow. But he didn’t speak, the silence hanging heavy and oppressive. The thought of being the reason she cried every night hurt him was his harshest reality. Jinhai stepped toward the door and opened it wide again, gesturing outside.

"Leave, Dexing. Don’t make me drag you out."

For a long moment, Dexing didn’t move. He stood there, pride in tatters, soaked and bruised, staring into the house where his daughter, his entire heart, lay just out of reach.