The Xu Corporation building loomed like a fortress of power—glass, steel, and silence. Alina stood in the private elevator, alone, her reflection staring back at her from every mirrored wall.
Leonard had summoned her to his office.
No explanation. No greeting. Just a brief text: "Come to my office. Now."
Her heart should have raced. But it didn't. Not anymore. Not after learning that loving Leonard Xu was like pouring warmth into stone—unfelt, unnoticed, and unrewarded.
When the elevator doors opened, she walked out like a queen entering court.
The receptionist barely looked up as she passed. His secretaries glanced up with curious eyes, undoubtedly having seen the tabloids.
"Alina Shen and Daniel Tan—More Than Just Small Talk?"
"Mrs. Xu Caught Cozying Up to Leonard's Old Friend!"
The rumors burned across the internet like wildfire, fanned by strategically placed photos and speculation. But Alina had never cared for tabloids.
She cared about his reaction.
The moment she stepped into Leonard's office, she knew he was furious.
The air was still, but heavy—like before a storm. He stood by the tall window, back turned, hands clasped behind him. His posture screamed tension.
"Leonard," she said, her voice even. "You wanted to see me?"
He didn't turn. "What were you thinking?"
Alina crossed her arms. "You'll have to be more specific. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately."
"Don't play games with me," he said, voice low but sharp. "You know what I'm talking about. That photo with Daniel—what the hell were you doing with him?"
She laughed, soft and bitter. "Is that jealousy I hear?"
He turned around, face stone-cold. "It's reputation. Damage control. You're my wife, Alina. Public perception matters."
"Ah," she nodded slowly. "So it's not that you care who I speak to. You just don't like the optics."
Leonard walked toward her, eyes dark. "Do you know how many board members contacted me this morning? Investors? Clients asking if my wife is getting too comfortable with other men?"
Alina met his gaze with unflinching calm. "And did you tell them what they wanted to hear? That I'm obedient? Silent? Conveniently invisible?"
Leonard's jaw clenched. "I told them you were loyal."
She stepped closer, voice low and cutting. "Funny. You vouch for my loyalty while ignoring the fact that your ex-fiancée has been leaking stories about me for weeks."
He flinched—subtly, but it was there.
Alina tilted her head. "You knew, didn't you? You just let it happen."
Leonard didn't answer.
That silence was more damning than any admission.
She turned away, walking to the edge of his office. Through the glass, the city stretched endlessly below. A sea of people and lights. And yet, in this moment, she had never felt more alone.
"You didn't defend me," she said quietly. "Not once."
Leonard's voice was low. "Because I didn't think you needed defending."
She turned sharply. "You didn't think I needed support?"
"I thought you wanted freedom."
Alina's laugh was sharp this time. "I wanted respect, Leonard. Not to be thrown into a pit with wolves and told to 'figure it out.'"
His gaze darkened. "You handled Celeste just fine at the gala."
Alina's eyes narrowed. "So you were watching."
Leonard didn't reply.
For a moment, the tension between them crackled with unsaid words. He took a step closer—just one.
"She got to you," he said finally. "Didn't she?"
Alina raised her chin. "Celeste? She tried. But I've stopped letting jealous women define my worth."
His eyes softened—barely. "Then don't let the media do it either. Stop giving them fuel."
Alina's chest ached, but she refused to show it. "Then maybe stop letting people think I'm disposable. Including you."
Leonard's expression cracked for a heartbeat. Then the mask slid back into place.
"This marriage was never meant to be emotional, Alina. You knew that."
"Did I?" she said, eyes burning. "Because somewhere along the way, I forgot."
The silence that followed was worse than shouting. It was resignation—mutual and final.
Leonard walked back to his desk and sat, suddenly looking tired. "You can leave."
Alina didn't move. "Just like that?"
He didn't look up. "You said what you needed to say."
Her hands clenched at her sides. But she turned without another word and walked out.
She didn't cry.
Not this time.
Back at the penthouse, Alina locked herself in the master bedroom and pulled the curtains shut. Her phone buzzed endlessly—messages from journalists, influencers, curious friends. Even Daniel had the gall to text her:
Daniel Tan: Told you the game would find you. Want help playing it?
She blocked him without replying.
Then she stared at the ceiling.
She could leave.
She had enough money saved, enough connections now. She could walk away from this life and rebuild something of her own. Something real.
But the image of Leonard's face—so cold, so unreadable—haunted her.
She didn't want to win him.
She wanted to forget him.
And yet...
Her fingers hovered over her phone before she threw it onto the bed in frustration.
That man was toxic.
She had to get out.
Three days passed.
Leonard didn't come home.
Grace informed her that he'd left for a business trip to Tokyo. No explanation. No goodbye.
Alina barely ate. Barely slept.
Until the fourth morning, when the doorbell rang.
Standing outside was a deliveryman holding a rectangular box wrapped in crisp black paper.
She signed without asking who sent it.
Inside the box was a single sheet of cream paper and a necklace—simple, elegant, with a teardrop-shaped sapphire.
The note read:
"You deserved better. – L."
Alina stared at the message for a long time.
Not 'I'm sorry.'Not 'Come back.'Just you deserved better.
And somehow, that hurt worse than silence.
Because it sounded like goodbye.
Meanwhile, across the ocean, Leonard sat in his Tokyo hotel suite, the city lights bleeding into the glass behind him.
He held his phone, thumb hovering over Alina's contact.
But he didn't call.
He couldn't.
Because if he heard her voice, he might break.
And Leonard Xu did not break.