Marvel Industries HQ, 11:47 AM.
Li Tian Marvel sat in his glass office, twirling a pen over the corner of his untouched agenda.
A meeting reminder blinked on his smart screen—"Youth Market Strategy Alignment Session."
He dismissed it with one swipe.
The entire floor buzzed with nervous energy, but Tian sat still, oddly quiet. Not because he cared about the next PR event. But because something didn't make sense.
Why now? Why had his father dragged him out of Monaco, forced him into the company spotlight, only to cage him in a glass box and toss him meaningless titles?
He tapped into the internal Marvel database—mostly out of boredom. Employee profiles. Archived board minutes. Legacy family records.
Then he searched for one name: Han Yulan.
His mother.
Nothing came up.
No mention. No history. No photos. No marriage license. Not even a death certificate.
She didn't exist in Marvel's records.
He leaned back in his chair, the hum of the skyline outside echoing his rising curiosity.
Knock.
Mr. Zhi entered, silent as always.
"Problem?" Tian asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his voice.
Zhi glanced at the open screen, and for the first time, hesitated.
"Some names," he said carefully, "were buried on purpose."
Tian didn't blink. "By who?"
Zhi didn't answer.
He placed a sealed brown envelope on the desk and gave a short bow. "Your father asks you to attend the Q4 Projections review. 2 PM. Conference Room Theta."
Then he left.
Tian stared at the envelope. He didn't open it.
Conference Room Theta, 2:05 PM.
He arrived late, as usual. This time, quietly.
The room was full of executives, advisors, and two of the board's senior members. But his eyes immediately landed on one person standing near the center screen.
Jin Mei Xue.
She wasn't wearing red lipstick. No designer heels. Just a clean navy suit, a silver pen, and a voice that silenced the room.
"…If we continue expansion without regional insight, market share will look impressive but won't convert. What we need is retention—data-backed, localized engagement."
Slides clicked behind her. Charts, projections, real numbers. Not fluff.
Tian tilted his head, intrigued.
She didn't flinch when an older board member interrupted her. She answered calmly. Didn't smile. Didn't apologize. She owned the space.
When the presentation ended, quiet nods filled the room. One executive murmured, "Finally, someone who knows what they're doing."
Tian leaned against the glass outside the room, watching as she gathered her notes. She didn't see him—
Then she did.
Her eyes flicked toward him. A split-second glance through the glass. Cool. Calculated. Almost indifferent.
But something passed between them. A spark—not of romance, not yet—but of challenge.
She saw him.
Not the red-haired brat. Not the media clown.
The man behind the smoke.
Tian straightened.
As Jin walked away, her voice echoed faintly behind her to a colleague:
"Every empire has an unwritten rule: never underestimate the one they laugh at first."
Tian smiled.
This was getting interesting.