Chapter 13 – Bait the Rat
Night fell over City A, the skyline glittering like a crown of false promises. Bai Xueqing stood before the glass window of her office, arms crossed, as Mo Chen walked in carrying two lattes and a manila folder.
She turned and raised a brow. "Bribery?"
He handed her the cup. "Peace offering. You've been glaring at that skyline for two hours. Thought you might burn a hole in it."
"Only in my dreams," she said, sipping.
"Ready to set the trap?"
She took the folder and opened it, scanning its contents. "These documents look real enough?"
"They are real. Just... falsified in the right places." He pointed to one of the pages. "This makes it look like you're planning to merge Bai Corp's tech division with Mo International."
She looked up. "People would believe that."
He leaned in. "Wouldn't you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Focus."
"Always do. On you."
Ignoring his smirk, she slid the folder into a blue envelope. "I'll lock this in the side drawer of my desk. The only people who know where the key is are Lin Nuo, Meng Zhihao, the CFO, and…"
Mo Chen finished, "...your secretary, Qiao Lan."
"Exactly."
They exchanged a glance. Qiao Lan had been her secretary since her return, efficient and pleasant. Too pleasant, perhaps.
"You think it's her?" Mo Chen asked.
"I don't know. But someone's leaking details too cleanly."
---
The next morning, Xueqing 'accidentally' dropped the envelope during a meeting. She made sure Qiao Lan saw her pick it up and return it to the drawer.
Then they waited.
Hours passed. Mo Chen hacked into the office's backup camera system while Meng Zhihao pretended to update firewall protocols. (He also spilled boba tea on the server rack. Twice.)
Finally, at 1:47 a.m., the trap snapped shut.
The hidden camera behind a desk sculpture captured someone slipping into the office with a duplicate key and pulling out the folder.
Qiao Lan.
She moved with practiced ease, scanning each page and photographing them. The angle of her phone showed she was sending the photos directly through a secure app.
Mo Chen grinned at the footage. "Got her."
---
By sunrise, Qiao Lan entered the office like any other day. Xueqing sat calmly at her desk. Mo Chen leaned on the windowsill. Lin Nuo was pretending to look busy in the corner, but really playing solitaire.
"Qiao," Xueqing said sweetly. "How was your evening?"
Qiao blinked. "Uneventful, Miss Bai."
"Really?" Mo Chen tossed a printed still image of the video onto the desk. "Because we have a different version of events."
Her face paled.
"Care to explain," Xueqing said, "why you broke into my office and photographed confidential documents?"
"I—I…" Qiao stammered. "I was threatened!"
Mo Chen raised a brow. "By whom?"
"I—I don't know his name," she said quickly. "He wears gloves and gives orders through a voice modulator. He said if I didn't send him what he wanted, my brother would disappear."
Xueqing's gaze softened slightly. "Why didn't you come to me?"
"Because you terrify me!" Qiao blurted.
Lin Nuo snorted. "She terrifies all of us. That's not new."
Xueqing sighed. "We'll verify your story. If you're telling the truth, you'll be placed under protective surveillance. If not…"
Mo Chen cracked his knuckles.
"I'm telling the truth!" Qiao cried, trembling.
Xueqing looked at her for a long moment, then said, "You're on probation. We trace the messages, we check your brother. But if I find even a whisper of a lie—"
"You won't," Qiao whispered.
---
Later, as the office quieted and staff filtered out, Mo Chen stood beside Xueqing on the rooftop terrace, a warm breeze brushing their hair.
"You did well," he said.
"You flatter me too easily."
"You're easy to admire," he murmured.
She turned to him slowly, meeting his eyes. "Why are you helping me, Mo Chen? Not just protecting. Helping."
He stepped closer, gaze intense. "Because in our past life, I failed you. In this life, I don't intend to repeat that mistake."
"And if I don't need saving?"
"Then I'll just stand beside you," he said, his voice low. "As your equal."
Her breath caught.
And for a moment, everything—revenge, power, even the war ahead—felt distant.