The change didn’t happen overnight.

  For Liu Mengmeng, it crept in quietly—first as restlessness, then as a dull, constant pressure in her chest that refused to fade.

  A month passed after the Lawson banquet.

  Jason still hadn’t recovered.

  Rejections piled up one after another. Meetings were delayed, partnerships “under review,” opportunities that once seemed within reach quietly withdrawn. He stopped talking about the future altogether. When he came home, his silence filled the apartment like a second presence.

  Mengmeng tried to be patient.

  She sold a bracelet.

  Then a necklace.

  Then told herself it was only temporary.

  “You’ll get through this,” she said one night, forcing a smile. “It’s just a rough patch.”

  Jason nodded, but his eyes slid away from hers.

  He didn’t believe it.

  As the weeks stretched on, Mengmeng began to understand something she hadn’t wanted to admit.

  This wasn’t a pause.

  This was a fall.

  And Zhuqing—

  Zhuqing was rising.

  The contrast gnawed at her. Every time Mengmeng thought of Zhuqing’s calm smile, her perfect composure, her life unfolding exactly as it should have been hers, something bitter twisted in her chest.

  By the end of the second month, hesitation was gone.

  If fate refused to follow the script she remembered, then she would rewrite it herself.

  Around the same time, Yun Wantang stopped fighting with Mr. Liu.

  That alone was strange.

  She no longer raised her voice when he came home late, exhaustion carved deep into his face. She listened as he talked—about suppliers cutting contracts, about competitors upgrading technology, about loans that came with humiliating conditions.

  Once, she had believed he would turn things around again.

  After all, he had built the Liu Group from nothing.

  Hadn’t he?

  But the more she watched him now, the more that belief eroded.

  He doesn’t have it anymore, she thought coldly.

  And he never had it alone.

  Jealousy surfaced whenever Song Mengran’s name crossed her mind—Mengran, who had once opened doors Mr. Liu could never have pushed through himself. Mengran, whose shadow still loomed over everything successful in this family.

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  Zhuqing had inherited that same ease.

  That same protection.

  Yun Wantang felt it like an old wound.

  By the third month, she began preparing quietly.

  Jewelry disappeared into safety boxes.

  Accounts were shifted.

  Cash was set aside under names that weren’t hers.

  Not to flee.

  Just in case.

  A smart woman didn’t wait for collapse to think of survival.

  Jason, meanwhile, was unraveling faster than either of them realized.

  It started innocently—an invitation after a failed meeting, a private room, soft lights and easy laughter. He told himself he was just killing time.

  The first win made his chest feel light for the first time in months.

  The second made him feel in control.

  By the third month, he was going alone.

  Late nights became routine. His temper shortened. His eyes dulled unless money was involved.

  Mengmeng noticed the missing cash.

  When she asked carefully, he exploded.

  “Do you think I don’t know what I’m doing?” he snapped, slamming his hand on the table.

  She recoiled.

  “I’m just worried—”

  “Worried?” he scoffed. “You’re the one who pushed me into this mess! Now you want to act innocent?”

  His mother stopped pretending soon after.

  “If you hadn’t filled his head with impossible dreams,” she said coldly over dinner, “my son wouldn’t be like this.”

  Jason said nothing.

  That hurt more than the accusation.

  The first real fight came before the fourth month ended.

  Jason didn’t come home that night.

  Mengmeng sat alone in the dark, staring at her phone, realizing something she had never imagined admitting—

  This marriage was already broken.

  Zhuqing didn’t notice any of this.

  Her life moved with quiet precision. Classes. Research. Meetings. Progress.

  If anything, her days felt smoother than ever.

  But others noticed.

  By the fourth month, Shaw family security began flagging irregularities—faces appearing too often near her routine, cars lingering too long. Amateur surveillance, poorly concealed, but persistent.

  Asmodeus reviewed the reports calmly.

  When he mentioned it to Zhuqing, his tone was almost casual.

  “Someone’s been watching you.”

  She looked up briefly. “Is it dangerous?”

  “No.”

  “Then handle it,” she said, already turning back to her work.

  He did.

  By the fifth month, the trail led cleanly back to Liu Mengmeng.

  The evidence wasn’t elegant. It didn’t need to be.

  Payments. Messages. Intent layered neatly together.

  The knock came early in the morning.

  Mengmeng opened the door and froze at the sight of uniforms.

  Jason watched from behind her, heart pounding, and said nothing.

  At the station, reality closed in fast.

  There was no dramatic denial. No clever excuse.

  Only the weight of proof.

  When Mr. Liu received the call, he sat down heavily, as though years had finally caught up with him.

  Yun Wantang said nothing.

  She had already secured her escape.

  Zhuqing learned about it hours later.

  She was still in the lab when Asmodeus’s message came through.

  It’s resolved.

  She read it once, then locked her phone without replying.

  The centrifuge hummed steadily beside her. Data scrolled across the screen, clean and predictable—unlike people.

  By the time she removed her gloves and washed her hands, footsteps sounded outside the lab.

  Asmodeus was already there when she stepped out, coat draped neatly over his arm.

  “Finished?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  They walked down the corridor together, their pace unhurried.

  “I had them detained,” he said calmly. “If you want, the Shaw family can formally request an explanation from the Liu family tomorrow. Public or private.”

  Zhuqing thought about it for a moment.

  Then she shook her head.

  “No need.”

  He glanced at her. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “Dragging it out is better.”

  Asmodeus stopped beside the elevator.

  “Explain.”

  “The Liu Group won’t survive the next forty-five days,” Zhuqing said evenly. “Their cash flow is already fractured. Mengmeng’s actions only accelerated it.”

  The doors slid open.

  “If we push now,” she continued as they stepped inside, “they’ll cling together out of desperation. If we wait, they’ll collapse on their own.”

  Asmodeus studied her profile, a faint smile forming.

  “So we let them destroy themselves.”

  “Yes,” she replied simply. “I’m fine with that.”

  The elevator descended in silence.

  When the doors opened, evening light spilled in through the glass walls of the lobby.

  Asmodeus offered his arm.

  Zhuqing accepted without hesitation.

  “Forty-five days?, That’s generous .” he said softly.

  Her smile deepened.

  And together, they walked out, already done with matters that no longer required their attention.