Shu Yao stood before the glass front of Rothenberg Industry like a man staring into the mouth of a wolf.
His legs refused to move. His breath broke in tiny, trembling shivers. The marble steps gleamed beneath him, cold and indifferent.
George placed a steadying palm between his shoulder blades.
"Enough, Shu Yao."
Shu Yao flinched—small, involuntary, wounded.
George felt it like a slap.
He softened his voice. "I'm right here. No one will touch you."
Shu Yao swallowed hard, nodding even though nothing inside him agreed.
They stepped forward.
Inside, past the front desk and through the long corridor, the boardroom door loomed like a courtroom gate.
But—
Bai Qi was already there.
The boardroom fell into silence as the door opened and Bai Qi walked in.
He was unreadable.
Untouchable.
Unreachable.
The obsidian suit.
The cold, perfectionist posture.
The void-black gaze that revealed nothing and destroyed everything.
Armin followed behind him—tall, immaculate, radiating quiet power.
Every executive lowered their eyes.
Except one.
Shen Haoxuan sat with a languid poise, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, his assistant behind him with head bowed low. He lifted his gaze at the exact moment Bai Qi entered, a thin smile curving on his lips.
A predator greeting another.
Bai Qi approached him with the slow, calm stride of a man walking toward a duel.
Shen rose smoothly and extended his hand.
A handshake—
but sharpened like a blade.
"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Bai," Shen said, voice velvet over steel.
Bai Qi took the offered hand, grip firm as iron.
"The honor is mine, Mr. Shen."
They held the shake a moment too long—testing strength, dominance, bloodline.
Then both pulled away.
Bai Qi sat.
Armin beside him.
The board straightened their backs.
The meeting officially began.
Shen didn't bother hiding his amusement.
He wasn't here to admire his half-brother.
He was here to detonate him.
Outside the boardroom, the heavy doors stood shut.
Shu Yao stopped again.
His breath stuttered. His fingers curled helplessly at his sides. His heart beat so violently it felt like it might detonate through his ribs.
"Shu Yao." George stepped beside him. "Stay strong. We'll face whatever this is."
Shu Yao nodded, but fear choked the gesture.
George flagged down a passing employee. "Take this file to my office."
The employee bowed and left with the folder.
The sudden movement made Shu Yao jump.
George touched his arm gently. "Calm down, shu Yao. First the meeting. Then we'll talk about the file."
Shu Yao dragged in a breath. Then another.
He pushed the boardroom door open—
and kept his eyes glued to the floor.
George walked in behind him, ice-cold and immaculate.
Bai Qi's head snapped up.
His jaw tightened the moment he saw them.
His uncle… and the boy he hated with every feral inch of himself.
His fingers curled.
His teeth clenched.
His gaze slid away sharply, as if Shu Yao's presence scorched his skin.
Shu Yao stood behind Bai Qi's chair like a shadow carved from fear. His hands trembled. His posture quivered. Every breath came in shaky sips.
He tried to steady himself, but his knees threatened to buckle.
No one noticed—
except Shen Haoxuan.
Shen didn't look at the board.
He didn't look at Bai Qi.
His grey eyes locked onto Shu Yao the moment he stepped in.
A slow, satisfied smile unfolded at the corner of his mouth.
He had achieved exactly what he came to witness.
The boy was shaking—violently.
Avoiding every eye.
Shrinking smaller and smaller, as though trying to disappear into the floor.
And Shu Yao hadn't looked at Shen once.
Not once.
Shen leaned back slightly in his chair, his voice soft enough to be unheard, his smile cold enough to freeze a flame.
"Poor little thing," he murmured under his breath.
Armin, across the room, noticed Shu Yao's trembling. His brows furrowed. He glanced toward Bai Qi—then toward Shen—putting together a picture neither of them wanted him to understand.
Meanwhile George had taken his seat, posture ready for war.
Shu Yao stood behind Bai Qi like a lamb behind a wolf.
Bai Qi felt it.
He felt the trembling.
He felt the presence he hated and needed and feared and resented all at once.
His jaw tightened painfully.
His hand twitched once on the table, betraying a tiny, lethal crack in his armor.
Shen watched them both, savoring the tension, the breaking point, the silent implosions.
The meeting began—slow, formal, deadly.
But Shen Haoxuan wasn't listening.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the perfect moment.
Waiting to pull the thread that would unravel everything Bai Qi had built.
Waiting to destroy him—
through the one trembling boy standing behind his chair.
The boardroom hummed with the low thrum of polite voices and brittle negotiations. Men shuffled papers, exchanged clipped remarks, adjusted spectacles. Numbers floated like distant echoes.
Only one person wasn't pretending.
Shen Haoxuan.
He reclined in his leather chair with the ease of a man savoring a private joke, eyes lazily drifting to the trembling silhouette behind Bai Qi. Shu Yao stood there like a glass figurine someone had dropped but not yet swept away. Fragile. Tilting. Cracking.
Shen's smile sharpened.
"He must be your assistant," he said casually.
Bai Qi's jaw ticked. His fingers paused on his pen. A muscle under his right eye twitched in irritation.
Shu Yao, meanwhile, felt the world tilt.
That voice.
That voice.
His chest squeezed as if invisible hands were hauling him backward into that dark room, where breath had been stolen from him and sanity clawed out of his bones. His vision trembled. He swallowed hard—once, twice—but his throat refused to loosen.
Slowly… unwillingly… he turned.
And saw him.
Shen Haoxuan's smirk was a blade dipped in poison.
Shu Yao flinched so hard, he nearly stumble backwards but caught himself.
He jerked his head away instantly, breath shattering in his chest. His fingers shook against his sleeves. He couldn't—he couldn't breathe. He told himself Bai Qi was here… George was here… he wasn't alone…
But his heartbeat kept hammering the truth:
It's him.
George's voice droned on from the front, commanding the discussion with steady authority, oblivious to the silent collapse happening behind him. He flipped through charts, spoke of shares, percentages, mergers. Bai Qi sat still, listening with cold attention. Armin, tall and immaculate, sitting nearby, every inch collected.
Only Shu Yao trembled.
Every time Shen shifted, Shu Yao's knees wobbled. Every faint scrape of Shen's shoes across the floor made the scarred memory flash white-hot. His fingers dug into his palm so hard he nearly broke the skin.
Endure. Endure until the meeting ends. Then you can breathe.
He repeated it like prayer.
At last the meeting wrapped up. Chairs pushed back, men rose, voices lifted into post-discussion chatter.
Everyone stood—except Armin, George, Bai Qi… and Shen Haoxuan.
Shu Yao desperately wanted to slip out, disappear for even a second of fresh air, but he'd barely turned before—
"Shu Yao."
The name rang like a curse.
Everyone froze.
Even Bai Qi's brows twitched, surprise cutting across his otherwise unreadable face. How did their rival—this man—know Shu Yao's name so intimately?
Shu Yao stiffened, shoulders locked, breath trapped high in his throat.
George's head whipped around sharply. Something was very wrong.
Shu Yao couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't confess in front of Bai Qi, Armin, an entire room of powerful men that this was the man who had taken everything from him.
He lowered his gaze and stepped forward stiffly.
Shen extended his hand.
"Good to see you again," he said silkily. "won't you. Shake hands."
Shu Yao stared at the offered hand as if it dripped blood.
That hand.
That hand.
His stomach churned violently.
A step backward—nothing more than a ghost of movement—but his feet refused to obey. No matter what Bai Qi thought of him, no matter how much he feared being seen as weak…
He couldn't do it.
George rose immediately. "Mr. Shen—Shu Yao isn't well."
That sentence sliced through Bai Qi like a thorn. Not jealousy. Something darker. Something he couldn't quite name. Why did his uncle George always defend someone so… undeserving?
Shen smirked, eyes lingering on Shu Yao like a predator deciding where to bite first.
"My, my," he murmured. "I was only greeting my closest friend."
The room went pin-silent.
Armin's eyes widened. Bai Qi, usually composed, felt something twist sharply in his chest. Closest friend? What absurdity had Shu Yao involved himself in?
Shu Yao's nails dug deeper into his palm.
Then Shen leaned closer, breath ghosting near Shu Yao's cheek.
"Isn't that right, Shu Yao?"
His hand moved toward Shu Yao's shoulder—
Shu Yao slapped it away.
The crack echoed like a gunshot.
Shen froze.
George blinked.
Armin's mouth parted in genuine shock.
Even Bai Qi stiffened at the sudden flash of defiance—something he had never seen from the soft-spoken, unobtrusive Shu Yao.
Shen straightened slowly. His smirk dropped. His eyes hardened—metal, venomous.
The humiliation burned his pride like acid.
He took a step forward—dangerous, deliberate.
But his assistant interrupt while saying;
"Mr, shen, Miss Ming Su will arrive in any moment—" his assistant whispered urgently.
But, Shen didn't hear him.
He reached out and seized Shu Yao's wrist.
Shu Yao's breath broke apart. His knees nearly buckled. The touch sent knives skittering under his skin, memories rushing back too vividly, too loudly—
"Stop it already." George surged forward, fury blazing. "Enough, Mr. Shen."
Shen released Shu Yao's wrist but only so he could throw a cold glance at George.
"Apologies for the disturbance," Shen said casually, lips twisting. "But he"—his gaze flicked to Shu Yao—"is someone you all should be disgusted by."
Bai Qi's jaw locked, a storm tightening behind his eyes.
Shen continued, voice sweetened with poison.
"Even after being robbed of everything… he still dares to act innocent."
Shu Yao tried to pull away, breath hitching, shame burning his cheeks. George stepped between them protectively.
"Why are you defending him?" Shen asked lazily. "You know exactly what he is."
Enough.
Bai Qi shot to his feet.
"What the hell is happening here?"
His voice thundered across the room. Shu Yao flinched violently. George opened his mouth.
"Bai Qi—"
But Bai Qi wasn't listening. His anger moved him forward, straight toward Shen.
"Whatever business you have with Shu Yao," Bai Qi said coldly, "take it outside. This is a professional meeting. Not your playground."
Shen clicked his tongue. "Ah, but it concerns you too."
Both half-brothers locked eyes, obsidian meeting storm-grey.
"What do you mean?" Bai Qi asked, a note of wariness threading through his voice.
Shen lifted his hand.
His assistant stepped in, placing a thick, file—on the table.
Shen smiled, the kind of smile wolves wear before they tear something open.
"See for yourself, Mr. Bai. It already includes you."
Shu Yao froze.
George went pale.
That file—that file—the one they had been trying to keep hidden, secure, safe… How did Shen—
Before George could speak, Bai Qi had already snatched the file.
He flipped it open.
Silence fell fast and brutal.
Inside lay the confidential designs, strategies, brand templates, and early-release prototypes of Rothenberg Industry's upcoming global launch… all stamped with the official transfer seal…
…to the Shen Corporation.
Charts. Documentation. Transaction forms.
And at the bottom of every page—
Shu Yao's signature.
And Bai Qi's.
Shu Yao's breath collapsed.
George's fingers curled helplessly at his sides.
Armin's head snapped toward Bai Qi.
Shen savored the devastation he had orchestrated.
"Well?" he whispered sweetly. "It seems your loyal assistant sold your entire brand design to me. With your authorization, Mr. Bai. Your signature is right there."
Bai Qi's eyes narrowed, icy and lethal. He stared at his own signature—one he did not remember signing.
His voice came out low.
"This is forged."
Shen shrugged. "If you insist."
Bai Qi turned a page. The signature was flawless. Identical. Perfect.
Too perfect.
His gaze shifted to Shu Yao.
Shu Yao stood pale, shaking, throat tightening as if he were being strangled by air itself. He opened his mouth—
"I… I didn't—"
But Shen stepped forward, voice slicing over his.
"He didn't deny it the last time we met."
Shu Yao stumbled back, panic rising like floodwater.
George sense something about, this young man something too dark, as he clench his teeth.
"Oh?" Shen tilted his head mockingly. "So your assistant isn't the one who wrote all this? Who signed the pages? Who leaked every design scheme your company worked so hard on?" He paused, smile widening. "He even signed your signature, Mr. Bai. How intimate."
Shu Yao's legs buckled. George held him up.
Bai Qi stared at the file again, something cold and sharp gripping his chest. He wasn't reacting out of betrayal—he refused to believe Shu Yao capable of such treason—but the photographic precision of the signatures…
It was almost impossible to dispute.
Shen let out a soft, satisfied laugh.
"Shu Yao… You didn't tell them how close we were, did you?"
Shu Yao's breath shattered.
"Stop it— I didn't do anything," he whispered, voice trembling.
"Oh? Why not?" Shen leaned closer, voice dropping to silk-covered poison. "Afraid they'll learn what you really are?"
Shu Yao snapped.
"Stop it!" he choked out, voice cracking with terror and humiliation.
The room fell silent.
Bai Qi's breath stilled.
George's expression hardened into pure fury.
Armin's eyes sharpened like knives.
Shen smiled again—slow, victorious, merciless.
"Let's finish this, shall we?", "Your signatures. Your assistant. Your loss. Your betrayal."
He turned, coat sweeping behind him like a dark wave.
"Congratulations, Mr. Bai."
His gaze drifted one last time to Shu Yao, savoring the ruin he'd caused.
"You've been played beautifully."
Bai Qi stared at the file—then at Shu Yao.
And for the first time…
Shu Yao wished he could disappear into the floor.