Chapter 2
The transition from the freezing courtyard to the dining room of the Chu family estate offered no warmth. A colossal round mahogany table dominated the center of the room, polished to a mirror finish that reflected the harsh crystal chandelier overhead. Senior family members sat rigidly in high-backed chairs, their expressions carved from stone and expectation. Beside them sat a younger woman in an immaculate white dress, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes cast downward with practiced modesty—Su Mumu.
Mu stood near the entrance, still holding his phone, while Xi walked in moments later, her white blazer immaculate, her stride unhurried.
The patriarch of the family, Chu Lao, slammed his heavy silver soup spoon against the porcelain bowl. The sharp clang echoed off the vaulted ceiling, silencing the quiet murmurs of the extended relatives. Lao’s face flushed with a dark, apoplectic fury as he glared at his son.
"Ungrateful wretch!" Lao roared, his voice trembling with generational rage.
The insult hung heavily in the air, directed squarely at Mu, yet the underlying weight of the rebuke was meant to swallow the entire scandalous situation. Lao had spent forty years building the Chu conglomerate’s reputation on traditional values and corporate stability. A public divorce scandal involving his son’s blatant indiscretion threatened to wipe out decades of careful lobbying and board-level trust.
Mumu flinched at the patriarch's roar, shifting uncomfortably in her white dress. She looked up, her youthful face a mask of feigned innocence, attempting to project vulnerability. "Grandfather, please don't be angry," she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to draw sympathy from the aunts seated to her left. "It was never my intention to cause a rift between Mu and Xi."
Xi took her seat across the massive table, entirely unbothered by the theatrical display of family politics. She did not raise her voice, nor did she look toward Mumu. Instead, she opened a slim leather folder, placing three distinct copies of the financial disclosure statements beside her water glass. Her demeanor remained that of an executive reviewing a routine quarterly merger—cold, analytical, and entirely detached from emotional turbulence.
"The rift was created long before tonight, Chairman Chu," Xi said, addressing the patriarch directly while maintaining eye contact with the older man. Her tone cut through the tense atmosphere like a scalpel. "I am simply finalizing the administrative details."
May you like
Mu pulled out his chair and sat down heavily, his glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of his nose. He looked older under the harsh chandelier light, the thirty-five-year-old corporate climber suddenly realizing the ladder he had spent his life ascending was resting against the wrong wall. The family members began whispering among themselves, casting sideways glances at the divorce papers resting on the polished wood.
***
