Zhou Ming sat in his high-rise study, the dim glow of the city lights casting long shadows across the room. A glass of aged whiskey rested in his hand, but he had yet to take a sip. Instead, his sharp eyes remained locked on the dossier spread before him—a collection of documents, surveillance reports, and confidential records.
Feng Ruoxi.
Ever since that night at the Jiang patriarch's birthday banquet, she had lingered in his thoughts. At first, it had been nothing more than passing interest—a woman who carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew how to command power. But now, after weeks of carefully watching, investigating, and pulling at the strings of her past, he knew that she was far more than just another socialite who had married well.
She was an anomaly.
A woman who had stepped into a world that was never meant to belong to her, yet she held her place as if it had always been hers.
And now, he finally understood why.
