Wang's POV
I stood frozen as the van doors slammed shut behind Zhan. My fists clenched so hard I thought my nails would break the skin. The screaming reporters, the flashing lights, the police shouting orders, it all sounded distant. Muffled. Like I was underwater.
Zhan was gone.
Just like that.
I turned to Cheng. "How the hell did this happen?"
Cheng looked just as shaken, but his lawyer instincts kicked in. "She must've had physical backups. Cloud storage. Hell, a private drive for all we know."
"She played us," I whispered, more to myself than him. "My mother played me."
"Wang, listen to me—" he started, but I shoved past him and stormed inside.
I froze in the doorway.
There she was, my mother. Sitting on the cream leather couch like a queen in her cursed palace, legs crossed, a glass of red wine in one hand, and the remote in the other. The TV was loud, tuned to a news channel. On the screen, they were showing live footage of body bags being lifted out of the swamp, officers swarming the scene, and reporters speaking with urgency.
My stomach twisted.
"More remains have been recovered this afternoon from the swamp in Jeju," the anchor was saying. "This comes following the arrest of Zhan, who—"
"Turn that shit off," I growled, stepping fully into the room.
She didn't flinch. Didn't even look at me at first. She took a slow sip from her glass, her eyes still fixed on the screen. Finally, she spoke, her voice calm, almost amused.
"Would you look at that... He did have secrets, didn't he?"
I walked up and snatched the remote out of her hand, turning the TV off so hard I almost cracked the screen.
"You think this is a joke?" I snapped. "You think destroying someone's life, my husband's life is entertainment?"
She turned her head to me, the smirk never leaving her lips. "I think you let your dick choose for you, and now you're angry the world won't bend for your little love story."
I was on her in two seconds, grabbing her hand, my teeth gritted so tight my jaw hurt.
"You set him up. You planted everything, you manipulated the system, and you're sitting here sipping wine like you didn't just ruin a man's life."
"A man's life?" she sneered. "That thing you brought into this house is a stain. I'm cleaning it up."
I shoved her hand away from me. "You're a monster."
She straightened her blouse without a flinch. "No, darling. I'm a mother."
My fists trembled. My heart felt like it was ripping open. And right then, I swore no court, no police, no threat could stop me.
I was going to save Zhan.
And I was going to destroy her.
She walked away like she hadn't just handed me my worst nightmare. Each click of her heels against the tile felt like a nail driven into my skull. Cold. Sharp. Final.
"I told you not to do anything stupid," she hissed. And yet, she had done worse. She lied, framed, and erased Zhan's entire existence, and now, she was daring me to fix it. Or fail.
"Take the deal or watch him rot in jail," she smirked. Like this was a game.
I stood there, chest heaving, fists clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms. "Mother," I said, barely able to keep the disappointment out of my voice. It sounded more like a plea than a warning.
But she wasn't listening. She never did.
"Take the deal," she repeated like a spell, her lips curling in triumph. "Marry Lusi and you can keep your little fantasy intact, he stays out of jail."
"I'll hire the best lawyer," I said through gritted teeth, holding back the scream lodged in my throat.
She chuckled darkly, already turning her back on me. "I'd love to see you try," she said over her shoulder. "Let's see how far love can take you when the law doesn't even recognize the boy exists."
She walked off, her heels clicking like gunshots, and I stood there, fuming, helpless. Cheng entered quietly behind me, but I didn't turn.
"We'll fix this," Cheng said quietly.
"I have to," I whispered.
Because Zhan was mine.
And they were going to learn that nothing, nothing gets between me and what's mine.
I barely slept.
The next morning came like a curse. Dark clouds hovered like they knew what was coming. I stared out the window of my room, unable to shake the image of Zhan being dragged away, the sound of reporters screaming questions, the flash of cameras blinding him. His face had been pale, terrified, but he hadn't fought. He just looked at me like he knew it was over.
And now... maybe it was.
I spent the morning calling lawyers, top names, and people who had won impossible cases, but the moment I mentioned the charges and Zhan's name, or lack of, they gave me the same answer.
"We have other cases that require our full attention."
The files were gone. Schools, hospitals, police, and even our marriage registry. It was like someone had wiped Zhan off the map, off the record, off the earth.
When I called the registry again, demanding to speak to someone senior, they told me calmly, "There's no Wang Zhan in our system, sir. Maybe it's a mistake."
A mistake?
Cheng watched me pace like a madman. "We need physical proof. Something she couldn't delete."
"Like what?" I barked. "She owns the system. She controls everything."
"Not everything," Cheng said quietly, but he didn't sound sure.
I punched the wall, my knuckles bleeding. "She erased him. My mother erased the man I love."
And then, as if summoned by my rage, the front door slammed open.
She walked in, elegant, composed, ice-cold. "Still playing savior, Wang?" she asked.
I stared at her, breathless. "You've taken everything."
She raised a brow. "Not yet. But I will unless you do the right thing. Marry Lusi."
"And if I don't?"
She smiled. "He'll be convicted by the end of the week. The swamp? It's already giving us gifts."
She walked past me and dropped a photo on the table. A screenshot from the day he was arrested.
Zhan's tear-streaked face.
And underneath it: "Confessed predator finally caught. Justice at last?"
I broke.
But I wasn't giving up. Not yet. Even if it cost me everything.
Dre's name flashed on my screen, and I picked up immediately.
"Are you watching the news?" he asked, his voice tight with urgency.
"No. Why?"
"Turn on the TV. Now." He hung up before I could ask anything else.
A cold wave of dread crawled up my spine as I reached for the remote with shaky fingers. I pressed the power button, and the screen came alive.
Breaking News. Swamp Victims Identified. Suspect Speaks Out.
Zhan.
My Zhan.
On the screen, grainy footage showed him, pushing terrified, struggling people into the swamp. Their screams echoed faintly beneath the reporter's voiceover. There was water. Darkness. The flash of fear in a girl's eyes before she disappeared below the surface.
I stared, unblinking, each second like a dagger to the chest.
"No," I whispered. "No, no, no... this isn't real."
But it looked real. The angle, the lighting, and the way Zhan's face twisted into fear and turned toward the camera. My knees gave out and I dropped onto the couch, the remote falling from my hand with a dull thud.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. It felt like everything in me had been ripped out and smeared across the screen for the world to see.
How could they...?
How could she?
My mother.
This had her written all over it. The timing. The precision. The cruelty. She didn't just want Zhan out of my life, she wanted him destroyed, erased, shamed beyond repair. I stormed through the house, slamming doors until I found her sipping tea like the world wasn't burning down outside.
"What the hell..." I whispered, frozen as the camera cut to footage of the swamp body bags being lifted out of the muddy water, crime scene tape flapping wildly in the wind, and officers with solemn faces shaking their heads.
The reporter's voice came back, grim and steady. "More bodies have been recovered this morning, making the total number of victims thirteen. Police say this may be the most disturbing serial case in recent history. And while the main suspect remains in custody, public outrage is mounting as new alleged witnesses come forward."
"What—" Cheng whispered, stunned. His hand gripped the edge of the couch for balance as his knees weakened.
The camera zoomed in on officers confirming new bodies had been discovered. More speculation. More damning statements. More fuel for the fire.
My mother walked in, sipping from a wine glass like it was just another lazy afternoon. I didn't hear her until she spoke.
"Told you not to do anything stupid," my mother said, standing by the doorway, arms crossed, eyes on the screen. "But no, you just had to poke the lion. Now the whole country sees him the way I do."
I turned to her, fists clenched, jaw tight. "You're doing this."
She just smiled. "No, darling. He did this to himself. I'm merely giving the world the story they want to hear."
"You ruined his life just to control mine."
She looked up, cool as ever. "No, darling. He ruined yours. I'm just cleaning up."
I turned, to the tv with rage and confusion boiling in my chest. "This... this is not good!"
She sipped from her wine glass like it was tea. "You went into Fengmian's laptop. Actions have consequences."
"Mother—"
"Take the deal," she said coldly, "or watch him burn. Your choice."
My eyes burned, not just with tears, but with rage. "You're a monster."
Her smirk widened. "And you're mine." Then she turned and walked away, the sharp clack of her heels like a gavel sealing his fate.
My hatred for my mother wasn't loud. It didn't scream. It simmered like boiling oil under a tight lid, hissing with every second I had to be in the same space as her. It was the kind of hatred that didn't just stem from one moment, but from a thousand little betrayals dressed up as control, as power, as love twisted into something unrecognizable.
I hated the way she spoke to me like I was a pawn in her endless game, like my heart, my marriage, and Zhan's life were just pieces to move around until she won. I hated the smug tilt of her lips when she thought she'd cornered me, the icy calm in her voice when she issued ultimatums that shattered everything I cared about. I hated how she wore authority like perfume, suffocating everyone around her with it.
I hated her for smiling while Zhan cried. For manipulating the truth. For silencing evidence. For using people like weapons, and me most of all.
But more than anything, I hated how she looked like the hero in public, respected, adored, and powerful while in private, she left destruction in her wake. And I was expected to follow, to obey, to be her perfect little soldier. No more.
That hatred sat in my chest like iron. Heavy. Cold. Permanent.
And it would only grow stronger until I could finally tear her throne apart. Brick by brick. Lie by lie.