The morning sunlight barely slipped through the thick curtains, casting a faint streak of light across the room. Astra's eyelids twitched. Before she could fully wake up, her phone blared, sharp and unforgiving, shattering the fragile peace of dawn.
Her hand fumbled on the bedside table until her fingers found the cold, smooth surface of the phone. Seeing the familiar, ominous number on the screen, her stomach twisted into a knot. She hesitated, then forced herself to answer.
"Miss Astra, your payment is three days overdue. You have until noon to settle the 30 million. If not, you'll be out on the street…"
The man's voice dripped with a cruel satisfaction, each word drawn out, like a blade slowly slicing into her pride.
Astra sucked in a shaky breath, her voice strained but steady. "I'll figure something out."
He snorted, a sharp, condescending sound. "Figure something out? Haven't you been saying that for days? I'll be there at noon to watch you pack up. Every single Hermès and Chanel bag, every inch of that fancy villa — all of it will be ours."
The line went dead. Her hand trembled, the phone slipping from her grip and thudding onto the bed. Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the sheets, an invisible vise tightening around her chest.
"Father… why do I have to clean up your mess? Why do I have to carry this curse?"
Her eyes landed on the ancient bronze compass resting on her desk — a relic handed down through generations. Next to it, the glow of her laptop screen cast jagged shadows, still frozen on last night's unfinished market analysis.
She had the power to predict market swings with eerie precision, to see the surges and crashes before they happened. But once she crossed that line, once she used her gifts to rig the system, there would be no turning back. That was the line she swore never to cross — the line that kept her from becoming what she despised.
But now? That 30 million was a boulder on her shoulders, and she was running out of time.
Her gaze hardened. She stood, walked to the wardrobe, and slid open the doors. Rows of pristine Hermès, Chanel, and Louis Vuitton bags stared back at her, symbols of a life she was about to lose.
Her hands moved with mechanical precision, pulling out old clothes, worn shoes — items that told no stories of luxury, only survival. She packed them into a battered suitcase, the zipper screeching as if mourning her downfall.
The new designer bags, the untouched cosmetics, the tailored dresses — she left them hanging in perfect order.
This wasn't surrender. It was her last act of defiance.
Her last shred of dignity.
The afternoon sun filtered through the glass facade of the towering skyscraper, casting a cold, sterile glow. Astra stepped into the lobby of Ying Group's headquarters, her heels clicking with steady determination. Her eyes were sharp and cold, masking the confusion simmering beneath the surface.
An invitation had been delivered to her earlier that morning. The signature at the bottom read: Jiang Ting — the young and ruthless CEO of Ying Group.
Jiang Ting. One of the most dangerous players in the financial world. Young, decisive, and chillingly relentless. With just a flick of his finger, he could trigger a storm that would leave the markets reeling.
As the doors to the conference room swung open, Astra walked in. Jiang Ting stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, the sprawling city beneath him, like his own personal chessboard.
He turned slowly, his gaze as sharp as a blade. A faint, unreadable smile played at his lips.
"You came."
Astra's voice was calm, controlled. "Mr. Jiang, what do you want from me?" Her mind raced with questions. Why would a top CEO of a Fortune 100 company know who she was? And why did he want to meet her alone?
Jiang Ting's eyes swept over her, assessing and amused. "I paid off your 30 million debt."
Her pupils contracted, her heart plummeting like a stone. "What? What did you just say?" Her composure cracked, and she forgot all about formality, her mouth hanging open as she waited for him to repeat those impossible words.
He ignored her shock, stepping forward with the grace of a predator. His eyes glinted, cold and piercing. "Because you have something I need."
He paused, his gaze locking onto hers, unwavering. "There's an old legend in Jiang City about the Li family — a lineage tied to ancient, high-dimensional energies. The family's members possess souls that have lived for thousands of years, mastering a vast array of mystical arts: the Eastern Qimen Dunjia, I Ching, Feng Shui, Zhuyou, and Western grimoires like the Hygromanteia, Greater Key of Solomon, and Vastu Shastra." He tilted his head slightly, a sly smile on his lips. "Shall I go on?"
Astra's blood ran cold. The weight of generations of secrets pressed against her chest.
Jiang Ting's voice dropped, smooth and relentless. "I know these stories are real. And you — you're a Li family descendant. Your soul's power to foresee and influence outcomes is exactly what I need to dominate the market."
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "You want me to use mysticism to cheat?"
Jiang Ting raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of mockery and intrigue. "Cheat? In this cutthroat market, who cares about the process? All that matters is the result. And your abilities can ensure those results are always in my favor." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Besides, using mysticism to predict market trends isn't exactly groundbreaking. Why is it suddenly off-limits when it comes to you?"
Astra's jaw clenched, her eyes blazing with defiance. "No. My family has never used our gifts for something like this."
Jiang Ting's eyes narrowed, the smile fading from his lips, replaced by a dangerous glint. "Never?" His voice was soft, deadly. "Astra, are you lying, or just pretending you don't know?"