Thunder grumbled behind the skyline as rain pressed against the glass walls of Mo Financial Tower. The office lights glowed amber, reflecting two figures locked in quiet calculation.
Bai Xueyi kept her voice even, her journalist mask flawless. "Aurora Consortium's records point to your company's security arm. The name Echo appeared on several classified transactions—one of them paid for materials used in the fire at the docks."
Mo Liuxian's fingers paused against the rim of his glass. "You seem very well-informed for a journalist."
"Information wants to be free," she replied. "Men like you just keep locking it away."
He studied her, eyes sharp beneath the calm. "You sound like someone with a grudge."
"Maybe I just like watching powerful men squirm," she said lightly, though her heart pounded once, hard.
He smiled without warmth. "Then you'll be disappointed, Miss Lin. I don't squirm."
"Everyone does," she said. "Right before the truth hits."
For a moment, silence balanced between them—then he reached across the table and picked up one of her printed documents. His gaze slid over the text, and when he looked back at her, it wasn't curiosity anymore. It was recognition, faint but dangerous.
"You use perfume that isn't sold anymore," he said softly. "I remember the scent from… somewhere."
Xueyi froze, pulse tightening.
"Maybe from another interview," she said quickly.
"Or from a woman who burned in my penthouse," he murmured.
Her breath caught; she forced a small laugh. "Dramatic, President Mo."
"Maybe," he said. "But so are you."
Before she could respond, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen; a single word flashed from Han Ze: Emergency.
He frowned and rose. "Stay here. I'll be back in five minutes."
As soon as the door shut, Xueyi slipped from her chair and crossed to his desk. She plugged a tiny flash drive into the terminal. Lines of encrypted data began to copy.
The screen flickered. A pop-up window appeared—ACCESS BREACH DETECTED: LOCATION—OFFICE LEVEL 57.
She swore under her breath. Someone else was in the system.
Downstairs, Han Ze walked through the corridor with a calm smile, a small remote device in his hand. The security feed showed Bai Xueyi inside the CEO's office.
"Caught you," he whispered. "Let's see how Mo Liuxian reacts when his ghost becomes a traitor."
He pressed the button. Somewhere in the ceiling, a sprinkler head hissed. Gas, not water, began to leak.
Back upstairs, Xueyi felt the faint hiss before she smelled it—the sharp metallic sting of aerosolized solvent. Her head snapped toward the vent. Not again.
She tore the flash drive free and sprinted for the door, but the lock panel flashed red. Remote override.
A memory struck—flames, sealed exits, Liuxian's voice shouting through smoke.
"Not this time," she muttered.
She yanked open a side cabinet and smashed the window alarm with the heel of her hand. Wind and rain burst in.
From below, headlights cut through the storm—Mo Liuxian's car returning.
Liuxian ran from the elevator as the alarm klaxons screamed. He saw the gas venting through the corridor and sprinted toward his office.
Through the smoke, he saw her—standing at the shattered window, rain whipping her hair, the city roaring below.
"Move away from the vent!" he shouted.
"It's rigged!" she yelled back. "Someone wants this whole floor to ignite!"
He grabbed a fire blanket from the wall, threw it over the vent, and slammed the emergency release on the lock. The door hissed open, releasing a surge of fumes into the hallway.
They stumbled out together, coughing. Behind them, a spark from the ruined light socket met the gas.
Boom.
The explosion tore through the office, glass and flame chasing them down the hall. He caught her arm, pulling her behind a steel column as the blast wave thundered past.
When the fire alarms finally fell silent, only the rain spoke.
They stood amid the wreckage, faces streaked with ash. He looked at her—really looked.
"Who are you?" he asked, voice rough.
She met his gaze, the lie trembling on her lips. "Lin Xue, journalist—"
"Don't." His hand caught her chin, forcing her to face him. "I've heard that lie before. Tell me your real name."
Her throat ached. "You wouldn't believe it."
"Try me."
She looked into his eyes—the same eyes that once watched her die.
"Bai Xueyi," she said softly.
The silence that followed felt like the air before a second explosion.
He didn't speak. He didn't move. He just stared—as if he'd seen a ghost step out of the fire he could never forget.