A Day Later at Zhang Penthouse, Shanghai.

The television murmured in the background with the polished news anchors delivering their segments in clipped Mandarin, their voices were bright and upbeat despite the grey financial graphs projected behind them.

"Zhang Dexing of Zhang International has officially reached a personal net worth of one hundred and fifty billion dollars, placing him among the top industrial magnates in Asia. Sources confirm this brings him within range of the Liu family conglomerate, currently valued at two hundred and fifty billion dollars under the joint leadership of Liu Lirong and her brother, Jinhai Liu…"

Dexing sat in the center of his living room, sprawled on the leather couch like a man attending his own funeral. The soft glow of the television illuminated his face with harsh light. His eyes rimmed with exhaustion were fixed on the numbers, but they held no sparkle. No gleam of pride. There was no toast, no celebration, just an overwhelming silence. One hundred fifty billion. He’d done it.

He had finally closed the gap between him and Lirong. Ten years of tireless expansion, relentless takeovers, sleepless nights, and unyielding ambition. An arsenal of lawyers, strategists, and blood-slicked negotiations each deal aimed at catching up. But now? Now he was alone. No wife. No daughter. No warmth in the empire he’d built.

The numbers on the screen blurred as he leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees. He stared at his hands, the same hands that had signed those lucrative deals, and the same hands that had failed to catch Lirong when she fell.

His phone buzzed on the table, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. He checked. It was Nicole. Dexing swiped it up, his heart racing. "What is it?"

"I found Mrs. Zhang," Nicole said, her voice brisk yet hesitant.

He sat up straighter, adrenaline coursing through him. "Lirong?"

“Yes. She flew to the Maldives, checked in under her English middle name 'Bella' with her best friend, Kalea Stacy, two days ago. They’re staying at a private villa on Rangali Island. No guard..."

Dexing stood, the blood in his chest pumping harder, igniting a fierce determination within him.

"Send me the location," he said, his tone low and commanding.

"I already have. But, Mr. Zhang…"

“What?” His impatience crackled in the air.

Nicole’s paused. "She’s not alone in pictures. She’s with her friend, and she looks… happy and unbothered. Like she doesn’t want to be found."

Her words settled heavily in his chest. Dexing remained silent for a long moment, his grip tightening on the phone. Then, almost softly, he replied, "Thank you, Nicole. I'll be flying in an hour."

He ended the call and walked over to the window, staring out at the sprawling city below, the skyline blurred by the rain. Dexing’s jaw clenched. He’d lost the battle for her heart, but he hadn’t lost the war.

She could run to the ends of the earth, take Feifei, bury herself in sun and sands. But he would go to her. He turned from the glass and picked up his coat. The Maldives were only ten hours away. And he was done waiting.

Rangali Island, Maldives.

The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and hibiscus, whispering against sun-warmed skin as Lirong and Kalea lounged beneath the soft gold canopy of a beach bar. The bar sat nestled at the edge of a wooden jetty, glowing with lanterns that swayed gently against the twilight, pouring reflections over the turquoise water.

Lirong’s skin glowed with a warm bronze sheen. The orange bandeau bikini and sheer wrap fluttering around her legs like flames. The air kissed her shoulders, still damp from their late afternoon swim, and her hair twisted up in an effortless bun, droplets sparkling along her collarbone. A delicate gold chain circled her waist.

Kalea, dressed in a similar two-piece, twirled her straw drink lazily, her sunglasses still perched in her curls even as the sun dipped. Her eyes swept the beach, then flicked back to Lirong, a mischievous glint in her gaze.

"You know," she began, propping her chin in her hand, “you should stop sitting here pretending you're on a silent retreat. Look around. This place is heaven, and you—" she gestured broadly at Lirong. "Look like a damn goddess. I do, too."

Lirong laughed softly, the sound light yet tinged with a hint of disbelief. "You exaggerate."

"I don’t." Kalea sat up, her enthusiasm palpable. "What I do think is a tragedy is you refusing to flirt. Girl, we are on a private island. Dexing is in a different time zone, and your divorce papers have been served. If there was ever a time to make friends…" she wiggled her brows with a smile, "especially male friends... it’s now."

Lirong’s gaze wandered out to the surf, the waves dancing playfully against the shore. The sky had turned a dusky lavender, and a few stars blinked shyly into view, but the moment felt heavy. "I don’t know, Kal. It feels... strange. Like I’m cheating on a ghost."

"You’re not cheating on anyone. You're choosing yourself."

Before Lirong could respond, a sleek cocktail glass landed on their table with a quiet clink. A bright crimson drink tangy-looking, tropical and garnished with sugared hibiscus.

The waiter smiled politely. "From the gentleman over there. For the lady in the orange."

They turned in sync. At the far end of the bar, a tall, tan man raised his glass slightly with a nod in Lirong’s direction. He wore a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of toned chest, sun-kissed. His eyes, amber in the low light, didn’t leer like they radiated warmth.

Kalea burst into a grin, her excitement infectious. "Well, well. Seems like your aura is doing the work for you."

Lirong rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the blush that touched her cheeks. "Kal…"

"Don’t Kal me. Just say hi. He’s clearly got good taste and decent manners. And that drink’s not cheap."

"I’m not trying to lead anyone on," Lirong protested gently, her heart racing at the unexpected attention.

Kalea smirked and stood up. "Then don’t. Just be charming. Friendly. You still remember how, right?"

Lirong gave her a playful glare, the tension palpable. "Where are you going?"

"To the restroom. Or maybe to go buy you ten more of those drinks if it’ll make you speak to someone," Kalea called over her shoulder, disappearing with a wink.

Lirong sat back, letting her fingers drift over the cold glass. She wasn't sure which part of her was more flustered. The boldness of the gesture or the aching awareness of her own loneliness.

Before she could second-guess herself, she lifted her eyes again. The man was approaching, walking with the casual ease. His smile appeared as he neared, warm and faintly amused, his hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his linen pants.

"Hope I’m not interrupting," he said, his voice rich with a European accent she couldn’t quite place. "I saw you from the deck and… well, it would’ve been a crime not to try."

Lirong laughed, low and surprised. Not at him, but at Kalea, who was now peeking from behind a palm tree near the restroom, giving her a wild thumbs-up and mouthing "He’s hot!"

Lirong shook her head, chuckling. "You’re not interrupting. I think I was… waiting for something interesting to happen."

The man extended a hand, his smile genuine. "I’m Matteo."

She slipped her hand into his, feeling a rush of warmth that chased the ghosts of her past away like the tide. "Bella."

In that moment, the weight of her heartache felt a little lighter, the echoes of the life she had left behind fading into the background, if only for a little while.