The rain didn't stop. It poured as if the heavens were washing away every lie they had ever lived.
Bai Xueyi sat by the shattered dock wall, her clothes drenched, her hands trembling slightly as she held the earpiece. Xiao Rou's voice still echoed in her mind:
"The traitor isn't Han Ze. It's someone in your bloodline."
Her bloodline.
Her family had been gone for years—father dead, mother vanished, the Bai name erased after Mo Financial bought out their company.
So who was left to betray her?
She didn't realize she was speaking aloud until Mo Liuxian's voice cut through the storm.
"What did she mean?"
Xueyi looked up at him. His face was shadowed by the flickering fire from a burning crate nearby. "I don't know," she lied.
He studied her carefully. "You do."
She met his eyes, calm and cold. "No. But if it's true, then I've been chasing ghosts while someone in my bloodline was feeding them."
"Your father's company was tied to Aurora before my acquisition," he said. "There could be files in the old archives."
"And what if the betrayal didn't start then?"
He frowned. "Meaning?"
"Meaning someone used me even before I knew it."
Her voice cracked—not from fear, but from the weight of clarity.
By morning, the storm had passed, leaving the world drenched and quiet.
They found temporary shelter in an abandoned warehouse near the port's edge. Liuxian lit a small fire from splintered wood, his shirt sleeve torn and bloodied.
Xueyi sat a few feet away, knees pulled close, staring at the flame.
"I thought I knew every scar in my story," she said softly. "Turns out there are chapters written by hands I never saw."
"We'll find who wrote them," Liuxian said.
She looked up sharply. "And what will you do when the writer has my face?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was trust, fragile but real.
Later, when the first light of dawn crept through the broken windows, Liuxian's phone buzzed. A hidden encrypted message. The sender: Wen Qingmei.
He opened it.
You can't protect her from her own blood. Stop before you find what she's hiding from herself.
He exhaled sharply.
Xueyi, who had been washing soot from her hands, glanced over. "What did she say?"
"Nothing important."
She didn't believe him, but she let it go.
They left the warehouse at noon and drove toward the city outskirts. The sky was heavy with low clouds, gray and restless.
Inside the car, neither spoke for miles—until Liuxian said, "The only surviving member of the Bai family was your uncle. Bai Ming."
Her fingers stiffened. "He disappeared fifteen years ago."
"No. He didn't."
He handed her a file from his briefcase. Inside was a photograph—older man, graying hair, sharp eyes, standing beside a corporate logo that made her blood freeze.
Aurora Consortium — Board Member: Bai Ming.
"He's alive," she whispered.
"Alive and wealthy," Liuxian said. "He's been funding Aurora since before you married me."
She stared at the image, her throat tight. "All this time… it wasn't just Han Ze or Wen Qingmei. It was family."
"He sold you," Liuxian said quietly. "Your identity. Your trust. Your life."
Her eyes burned, but no tears fell. "Then I'll return what's his—one betrayal for another."
That night, back at the safehouse, she stood by the window, the moon pale against the mist. The photograph lay on the table behind her, next to her old wedding ring.
Liuxian entered quietly. His shoulder was bandaged now, though the blood had soaked through.
"You need rest," he said.
"Rest is for the innocent."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You can't fight him if you burn out first."
She turned, fire in her eyes. "You think this is about fighting? This is about remembering who I am. They erased Bai Xueyi once. This time, I'll write her name in their ashes."
He stared at her for a long time, something unspoken tightening in his chest. "You're not the same woman I buried."
"Good," she said. "That woman loved you too much to see the truth."
Her words hit like glass—shattering, sharp, impossible to take back.
He nodded slowly. "Then what am I to you now?"
She met his gaze steadily. "A weapon. And maybe… the last part of my heart I haven't decided whether to kill or protect."
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then he reached up, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face, his fingers trembling. "If we're going to war, let's end it properly."
She didn't flinch when he leaned closer. Their breaths mingled—fire and frost, guilt and longing. The kiss never quite happened. It hovered between them, suspended like lightning before the strike.
And then—
Her phone buzzed. A new message. Unknown number.
If you want Bai Ming, come to where you died.
The old villa.
Her heart skipped.
"It's him," she said. "He wants me back where it started."
Liuxian's expression hardened. "Then we go prepared. No more running, no more ghosts."
"And if it's another trap?"
"Then we make sure the trap burns with its maker."
That night, the safehouse lights flickered once. Far away, in a darkened control room, Wen Qingmei watched the surveillance feed with a cold smile.
"You were right, Uncle Bai," she said into the phone. "She's heading home. The perfect ending for your perfect experiment."
A man's voice answered, deep and measured.
"Good. Let the prodigal child come home. Let her see the cost of surviving."