Section 1: Twenty-Four Hours of Sexual Assault Allegations
Chaos could already be heard outside the office.
A jumble of French, English, camera shutters, and police radio static filled the air. Emma, her face ashen, whispered: "The police are in the conference room. Ms. Catherine and two journalists are in the reception area. Mr. Ji wants you to go directly to his office— don't pass through the public areas."
Zoe nodded and followed Emma toward the fire escape. In the stairwell, the click of her high heels against the concrete floor echoed sharply— each sound a reminder: this was no drill.
Pushing open the door, she found Lysander standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, on the phone. His back was to her, speaking rapidly in fluent French. Zoe caught a few words: "lawyer," "privacy law," "defamation." Outside, blue-and-white Paris police cars were parked below, their roof lights spinning with harsh, strobing light.
Hanging up, he didn't turn around. "Where's the enamel box?"
"In my bag." Zoe said. "Will the police search it?"
"They have a search warrant, but it's limited to 'locations potentially relevant to the sexual assault allegations'— my office, the club box, your residence." Lysander finally turned, his face expressionless but his eyes bloodshot. "So they won't touch your bag. Give the box to Emma— she'll take it to the underground vault via the freight elevator."
Zoe did as told. As Emma hurried off with the box, Lysander finally looked at her. "I need you to make a choice."
"A choice?"
"Choose which side you're on." He walked to his desk and pressed a button. The blinds closed automatically, and the room lights brightened. "Catherine's allegations have three parts: first, I used my position to force you to sign an unfair agreement; second, I sexually assaulted you at the club last night; third, I threatened to ruin your career if you spoke out."
Zoe sneered. "She works fast."
"She's a veteran." Lysander pulled a voice recorder from his drawer. "Now you have two options. Option A: Tell the police it was all a misunderstanding— the agreement is a standard contract, the club incident was voluntary, and there's nothing inappropriate between us. You'll receive a 5 million euro 'hush money,' Catherine will drop the charges, and Black Thorne will continue the merger— but you must return to New York tomorrow, and never touch this matter again."
"What about Option B?"
"Tell the truth." Lysander pushed the voice recorder toward her. "Tell the police about the agreement's real terms, what happened at the club, everything you know— about me, the Ji family, Catherine. But if you do, the merger will end immediately, your career will be ruined, and Catherine will use all her connections to destroy you. And I," he paused, "might actually go to jail."
Zoe thought of a line from her mother's diary: "In Paris, nobles have a hundred ways to kill commoners— not one leaves a fingerprint."
She picked up the voice recorder and pressed the record button.
"I'm Zoe Shen, senior analyst at Black Thorne Capital, currently serving as Lysander Ji's temporary special assistant." Her voice was clear and steady. "Regarding Ms. Catherine Ji's allegations, I make the following official statement…"
Lysander closed his eyes. For a moment, Zoe thought he might stop her.
But she went on: "First, the '24-Hour Close Proximity Agreement' was signed voluntarily. Its terms were reviewed by lawyers from both parties, and the salary is far above market standards. Second, the actions at the club last night were a prearranged performance, intended to obtain evidence of improper contact between Ms. Catherine Ji and Deputy Minister of Labor Jean-Pierre Renault. Third, I have never been subjected to any threats or coercion."
She paused, looking at Lysander's eyes, which had fluttered open slightly.
"Furthermore, I possess evidence that Ms. Catherine Ji is suspected of cross-border money laundering, commercial fraud, and an illegal adoption transaction in 1985. I have backed up all evidence and entrusted it to a third-party institution. If I suffer any harm within the next twenty-four hours, this evidence will be automatically sent to the French Financial Prosecutor's Office, Interpol, and the editorial board of Le Monde."
She pressed stop. The recorder's indicator light went dark.
Lysander stared at her, wide-eyed.
"You…" It was the first time she'd seen him look almost stunned.
"Option C." Zoe tossed the recorder to him. "I'm not a victim, and I'm not a bystander. I'm your accomplice."
The wail of sirens approached from afar— not one, but several.
Emma burst in, her face deathly pale. "Mr. Ji, three more police cars just arrived downstairs— and… TV news vans."
Lysander caught the recorder, his palm pressing against its metal casing. He looked at Zoe, his slate-blue eyes swirling with complex emotions— surprise, assessment, and a flicker of almost imperceptible… gratitude?
"Do you know what you just did?" he whispered.
"Escalated the war to nuclear level." Zoe smiled. "If we're going to fight, we don't leave any room for retreat. Didn't you teach me that?"
Section 2: Live Broadcast in the Glass Conference Room
The conference room had been converted into a temporary interrogation room.
On one side of the long table sat two police officers, a prosecutor, Catherine, and her lawyer. On the other side, only Lysander and Zoe. The room was enclosed in glass, and the area outside was packed with journalists, their camera lenses pointing inward like gun barrels.
"Ms. Shen," the prosecutor— a woman in her fifties with short hair and sharp eyes— said, "you claim the actions at the club last night were a 'performance.' Can you explain why such a performance was necessary?"
Zoe adjusted her microphone. "To obtain evidence of improper contact between Deputy Minister Renault and Ms. Catherine Ji. From what I understand, Mr. Renault is reviewing Vénus Noire's layoff plan, and Ms. Catherine hopes he will vote against it."
Catherine smiled elegantly. "Darling, you're making up stories. Mr. Renault and I are long-time friends— our interactions are completely legitimate."
"Including meeting in private club boxes every Wednesday?" Zoe pulled out her phone and pulled up a blurry but recognizable photo— one she'd secretly taken while passing the box last night, showing Renault's hand on Catherine's leg.
Catherine's smile froze.
The prosecutor leaned in to examine the photo. "This image…"
"It has undergone digital authentication— no tampering." Zoe said. "I can provide complete timestamps and location data if the police require it."
Lysander remained silent throughout. He leaned back in his chair, twisting a pen unconsciously between his fingers, but his gaze never left Catherine's lawyer— a thin man typing rapidly on a tablet.
"Even so," the prosecutor said, "this does not explain Mr. Ji's use of restraint devices on you."
Zoe was about to speak when the conference room door suddenly swung open.
Lu Chen walked in, carrying a metal case. He was wearing a suit today, but his tie was askew and his hair messy, as if he'd just rushed over from the lab.
"Sorry I'm late." He grinned. "Stopped by the courthouse on the way to apply for witness protection— oops, I mean witness status."
Catherine's lawyer stood up. "Unauthorized personnel are not allowed—"
"On the contrary." Lu Chen placed the case on the table and opened it. "I'm a key witness. Here to prove last night was all an act." He pulled a silver collar from the case— identical to the one Lysander had used last night. "This is a prop, equipped with internal micro-sensors and a camera. After Ms. Shen put it on last night, all her physiological data— heart rate, galvanic skin response, body temperature— was transmitted to my server in real time."
He opened his laptop and pulled up a set of waveforms. "The data shows Ms. Shen's heart rate remained stable during the 'performance,' with no stress response. In other words, she was not afraid at all."
The prosecutor studied the data carefully. "This collar…"
"A prototype from my company, designed for virtual reality games." Lu Chen winked. "Not on the market yet, but the technology is mature. Oh, and it also has a recording function."
He pressed play.
The speakers blared the conversation from the room last night—
Zoe's voice (slightly distorted): "You speak Mandarin perfectly."
Lysander: "My mother was Chinese… the first Mandarin sentence she taught me was this…"
Then came the click of the collar closing, Lysander's line "Now, you belong to me," and the sound of footsteps fading outside the door.
The recording ended.
The journalists behind the glass erupted in commotion. Flashbulbs popped frantically.
For the first time, Catherine's face turned pale. She whispered something to her lawyer, who immediately stood up. "Madame Prosecutor, we request a recess—"
"No need." Lysander finally spoke. He set down his pen, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on the table. "Since everyone's here, I have a few announcements to make."
The conference room fell silent. Even the journalists stopped taking photos.
"First," Lysander looked at the prosecutor, "I formally accuse Ms. Catherine Ji of defamation, commercial fraud, and involvement in an illegal human trafficking transaction in 1985. Relevant evidence has been submitted to the court."
"Second, regarding Deputy Minister Renault— I have invited the Ministry of Labor's oversight committee to investigate his conflicts of interest with Ms. Catherine Ji. Preliminary evidence shows he has accepted 'gifts' worth over 2 million euros in the past three years."
"Third," he stood up and walked to the glass wall, facing the cameras outside, "Vénus Noire Group will launch an internal audit effective immediately. During the audit, Ms. Catherine Ji is suspended from all duties."
Catherine shot to her feet, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. "You don't have that authority!"
"I do." Lysander didn't turn around. "Per the company's articles of association, the board may vote to suspend a shareholder's rights if they are suspected of serious crimes. An online board vote was completed an hour ago. 72% in favor."
He turned around, meeting Catherine's gaze for the first time. "You lose, Aunt."
The address cut like a knife. Catherine's face flushed red. She trembled, as if about to speak, but no sound came out.
Just then, Zoe's phone vibrated. It was a text from Eva: "Emergency! Don't let the police leave! Renault attempted suicide in his office— left a suicide note admitting to accepting bribes, and mentioned Catherine instructed him to frame Lysander! Ambulances and more police are on their way to you!"
Zoe immediately turned her phone screen toward the prosecutor.
Five minutes later, the police placed handcuffs on Catherine. She didn't resist, but stared at Lysander intently, speaking in a voice only they could hear: "You think you've won? The Ji family will never let you go. You carry that Chinese whore's blood— you'll never be worthy—"
"Take her away." The prosecutor cut her off.
As Catherine was led out of the conference room, the journalists swarmed like a tide. Flashbulbs illuminated her pale face, making her look like a ghost.
The glass doors closed, sealing out the chaos.
Only three people remained in the conference room: Lysander, Zoe, and Lu Chen.
Lu Chen whistled. "Whoa. That was more exciting than any code I've ever written."
Lysander still stood by the glass wall, watching as Catherine was escorted into a police car below. His back was straight, but Zoe noticed his shoulders were trembling slightly.
"Are you okay?" she walked to his side.
"She called my mother a whore." Lysander's voice was soft. "Every time I misbehaved as a child, she'd say that. 'You're just like that whore— lowly, filthy, unfit to be a Ji.'"
Zoe wanted to say something, but no words came.
Lu Chen packed up his things and patted Lysander's shoulder. "Brother, do you want me to stay?"
"No." Lysander took a deep breath. When he turned around, his face was calm again. "Thanks for the prop. Send me the bill."
"Free of charge this time." Lu Chen winked. "Call it an investment in the future— I believe you two will win."
After he left, the glass conference room fell completely silent. Dusk had settled over Paris outside, and the Eiffel Tower lit up with its first lights.
"She'll be bailed out." Zoe said. "With her resources, she'll be out in at most forty-eight hours."
"I know." Lysander walked to the table and picked up the voice recorder. "Which is why these forty-eight hours she's in custody are our only chance."
"Chance for what?"
"To find evidence that will keep her locked up forever." He pressed play, and Zoe's voice filled the room: "…if I suffer any harm within the next twenty-four hours…"
He turned it off and looked at her. "You said you backed up the evidence. Was that true?"
Zoe shook her head. "I made it up. There wasn't enough time to actually back anything up."
Lysander laughed. It was the first truly relaxed smile she'd seen from him— lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, making him look years younger.
"You're a natural liar." he said.
"Wall Street trained me well." Zoe smiled too. "But now we really do need to back up the evidence. Catherine's people could find those materials at any moment."
"It's already taken care of." Lysander pulled a USB drive from his suit pocket. "Five minutes after you left that apartment, my team went in, collected all the original documents, and wiped the surveillance servers. This USB drive has all the scans— including one thing you missed."
"What?"
Lysander plugged the USB drive into his laptop and pulled up a document. It was an insurance policy, dated twenty years ago. Insured: Lysander Ji. Beneficiary: Shen Qinglan. Coverage amount: 5 million euros. Condition for payout: insured's unnatural death.
The signing date was one week before his mother's car crash.
"My father took this out." Lysander's voice was cold. "If I died accidentally, my mother would get 5 million. But what if she died first?"
A chill ran down Zoe's spine. "Are you saying… the car crash wasn't an accident?"
"The brake lines were cut, but the police report said 'mechanical aging.'" Lysander closed the file. "I knew the truth when I was ten. But it wasn't until I got the DNA report three years ago that I understood why— I'm not his biological son, and my mother was the only one who knew that secret. With her dead, I could live as the 'eldest grandson of the Ji family,' and he could keep controlling the company until he found a more suitable heir."
Night had fully fallen. The main lights in the conference room were off, leaving only the glow of the laptop screen illuminating their faces.
"So you're not just trying to destroy the company," Zoe said softly, "you're also avenging your mother."
Lysander didn't answer. He walked to the window, looking out at Paris's night sky. The city was beautiful, its lights shining like a galaxy— but secrets lurked behind every lamp.
"When I was little, my mother used to sing a Chinese song to me." he suddenly said. "I don't remember the lyrics, only the melody. Later, I searched for it in China— it's a Jiangsu folk song called 'Jasmine Flower.'"
He hummed a few bars. The tune was simple and gentle, jarringly out of place in this room filled with scheming.
Zoe walked to his side, and together they looked out the window.
"When this is all over," she said, "I'll take you back to China. We'll find the complete version of that song."
Lysander turned to look at her. The cold light from the screen cast shadows on his face, but his eyes were bright.
"Do you know what the most ironic thing is?" he said. "I hated my mother for twenty years, hated her for abandoning me. But the truth is, she never gave up on me. A week before that car crash, she secretly met with a lawyer, trying to get my custody back. She even contacted her family in China, planning to take me there."
He paused. "And that week, I had just told my entire class, 'My mother is a prostitute— she'll do anything for money.' Because my father said if I didn't, he wouldn't let me go on the school ski trip."
Zoe reached out and gently touched the back of his hand. His skin was cold.
"You were a child." she said.
"Children can still hurt people." Lysander pulled his hand away and stuffed it into his pocket. "And some wounds never heal."
The intercom on the table rang. Emma's voice came through: "Mr. Ji, call from Mr. Henry in New York— it's urgent."
Lysander picked up the phone and pressed the speaker button.
"Lysander," Henry's voice sounded tired, "I just watched the live broadcast. Impressive counterattack, but the cost is high."
"What cost?"
"Black Thorne has decided to withdraw from the merger." Henry said. "The board thinks the risk is too great. Catherine may be under arrest, but her network in French politics and business is still intact. We can't afford to gamble."
Zoe's heart sank. Without Black Thorne's funding, the restructuring plan was doomed.
"If I told you," Lysander replied calmly, "that I can find alternative funding within a week, with a guaranteed annualized return of no less than 25%?"
Silence on the other end. After a long pause, Henry said: "Evidence?"
"I'll send you the business plan and guarantee documents by 8 AM tomorrow." Lysander said. "If you're not satisfied by 12 PM noon, Black Thorne can withdraw unconditionally— I'll pay the liquidated damages."
Another long silence.
"You have one chance, Lysander." Henry finally said. "12:01 PM tomorrow. If I don't receive something that impresses me, the game is over."
The call ended.
Lysander loosened his tie and let out a long breath. He looked exhausted— the kind of weariness that seeps into the bones.
"Where will you find the funding?" Zoe asked.
"The Saudi Sovereign Fund." Lysander said. "Abdul Al-Rashid— the man Catherine met in Dubai. He vetoed the investment because Catherine promised him a bigger cut. But what if I offer him something even better?"
"Like what?"
"Exclusive rights to Vénus Noire in the Middle East, plus priority licensing of Dragon Abyss's intelligent system in the region." Lysander began packing his things quickly. "Lu Chen's patent is the real trump card. Catherine underestimated the power of technology— people from her generation always think power only exists in ballrooms and boardrooms."
He picked up his car keys. "I'm going to the airport. Flight to Dubai at 1 AM."
"Now?" Zoe checked her watch. "Catherine's people are probably still watching you. It's too dangerous."
"Which is why we leave now." Lysander stopped at the door and turned to look at her. "You're coming with me."
"What?"
"If I fail, at least someone needs to make the contents of this USB drive public." He handed her an envelope. "Inside are two plane tickets, new passports, and an encrypted phone. Travel under fake identities— we'll meet at the airport."
Zoe took the envelope. It was light, but felt heavy with responsibility.
"What if I don't go?"
"Then I won't go either." Lysander said matter-of-factly. "I can't win alone."
Zoe looked at him. This arrogant, controlling man had just admitted he needed her.
"Give me five minutes." she said. "I need to go back to my apartment to get some things."
"Don't go back to the apartment." Lysander pulled a small bag from his drawer and tossed it to her. "It has all the essentials. We'll buy clothes in Dubai."
Zoe opened the bag— toiletries, a change of underwear, a charger, and— the lipstick-shaped stun gun.
"You even packed this?"
"Eva gave it to me." A faint smile tugged at Lysander's lips. "She said you need to protect yourself, especially when I might not be able to."
He pulled open the door. "Let's go. The freight elevator goes directly to the second basement level— a car is waiting for us."
The corridor was empty. Most of the company's lights were off, leaving only the faint green glow of emergency exit signs. They hurried toward the elevator bank, their footsteps echoing in the empty lobby.
As the elevator doors were about to close, a hand suddenly stuck through.
Zoe's heart almost stopped.
The doors slid open again. Standing outside was a man in a maintenance worker's uniform, wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his face.
"Sorry," the man said in accented French, "the elevator is broken. Needs inspection."
Lysander instinctively pulled Zoe behind him.
"We'll take the stairs." he said, trying to step around the man.
But the man blocked his path. He slowly pulled a butterfly knife from his tool belt, flipping it deftly in his hand— the blade glinted coldly in the dim light.
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Ji." The man looked up, revealing a scarred face. "Someone wants to talk to you. Before you leave France."
Lysander's hand moved subtly toward his suit pocket— there should be a gun there. But Zoe remembered: his gun had been confiscated by the police earlier, "as part of the investigation."
She took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the stun gun in her bag.
The butterfly knife unfolded in the man's hand, its tip pointing at Lysander's chest.
The elevator doors began to close automatically. The man wedged his foot in, grinning to reveal a gold tooth.
"Don't be nervous," he said, "just a talk."
But Zoe saw the murder in his eyes.
This was no talk.
This was abduction— or murder.