Mo's Perspective
Mo stood on the balcony of his London penthouse, watching the Thames flow sluggishly towards the sea. The confrontation with his grandmother had left him restless. For the first time, the immense wealth and power of the Mo empire felt like a prison.
His system, the Benevolence Engine, had been both a gift and a curse. It had given him untold power, but it had also robbed him of any choice. His life was a series of calculated donations, a perpetual cycle of giving to get, all under the watchful eye of the family matriarch.
He thought of Ye Xia. Her power, whatever its source, seemed… wilder. More personal. She spent for herself, for her revenge, for her own growth. There was a selfishness to it that he found strangely compelling. It was a freedom he had never known.
On a whim, he accessed a satellite feed—a passive, non-intrusive one—showing the exterior of Ye Xia's apartment building in China. He saw nothing, of course. But he knew she was inside, likely plotting her next move against Yun Zhong.
He felt a connection to her that went beyond strategic interest. They were both freaks, blessed and cursed by systems they didn't understand. They were alone in the world because of it. He had never met anyone who could possibly understand his reality.
He made a decision. It was reckless, against all his training, but he had to know.
He composed a message. It was not sent through his usual secure channels. It was a simple text, sent to her public phone number, the one associated with her old life.
[The chains we wear are often of our own making. But sometimes, they are forged by others. Do you ever wish you could be free of yours?]
He didn't sign it. He didn't need to. He knew she would know it was from him.
He put the phone down and waited. It was the most vulnerable thing he had ever done.