Rain fell over the city like it was trying to drown its sins.
From the 89th floor of Lu Tower, Ethan watched the storm rage, his reflection layered over the city skyline like a ghost still undecided whether to haunt or protect.
His phone lay on the marble table beside him, screen cracked from when he'd thrown it hours earlier. The message still echoed in his mind:
"You're not ready to take his throne. But he's watching. Always watching."
His father wasn't just alive—he was orchestrating something. The journal had been only the beginning. There were names in it. Some crossed out. Some underlined. And one... circled in red.
Adrian Wu.
A name Ethan hadn't heard in years. Once a business partner. Then a traitor. And maybe now… something worse.
"Why Adrian?" Ethan muttered, turning back to the wall safe. He retrieved the journal again, flipping to the page where the name was scribbled with venom.
Charlotte entered quietly, barefoot, silk robe barely tied, her hair damp from a shower.
"You haven't slept," she said, approaching slowly.
"I can't afford to."
She walked to him, brushing his arm with her fingers. "Then let me help you forget, if only for a moment."
Her lips touched his jaw, tracing downward. Her hands explored his tense body, trying to pull him back into the warmth they'd shared the night before.
And for a second… he let her.
But then—
"I need to go," he said abruptly, pulling away.
Charlotte's face fell, her eyes darkening. "Ethan…"
"I have to find Adrian."
Hours later, Ethan sat inside a black SUV across the street from an underground casino in Macau—Adrian's last known haunt. The air inside the car was heavy with anticipation.
Selina sat beside him, dressed in tactical black, her expression unreadable.
"Do you trust me?" she asked.
"I trust your aim. Not your loyalty."
She smirked. "Fair."
"Do you think he'll talk?"
"Not unless you shoot off a few fingers."
Ethan smiled coldly. "Then I'll make sure to start with his left hand. He always hated losing his poker edge."
They exited the vehicle.
The casino's inner chamber was a symphony of sin—cigar smoke, laughter, lies disguised as flattery. At a private table under a blood-red chandelier sat Adrian Wu, surrounded by women and whiskey.
When he saw Ethan, his grin faltered.
"Ethan Lu," he said, standing slowly. "Back from the grave, are we?"
Ethan didn't smile. "Let's talk."
Adrian waved his companions away and gestured toward a private booth.
"Wasn't expecting a ghost tonight," Adrian said, pouring two drinks. "But hell, this world loves a resurrection."
"You know why I'm here."
"Oh, I do. Daddy's alive. Shocker." Adrian took a sip. "He always had a flair for drama. Faking his death? Genius. Leaving you in charge? Even better."
Ethan's fingers tightened on the glass.
"What's he planning, Adrian?"
Adrian leaned forward, eyes glittering. "He's building something... off the grid. And you? You're just a test. A warm-up. The throne's not yours yet. It never was."
"I don't need your riddles."
"No riddles," Adrian whispered. "Just warnings. He's not grooming you. He's testing you. And if you fail—he already has a replacement."
Ethan froze.
"Who?" he asked.
Adrian smiled wickedly.
"Your half-brother."
Back in the penthouse, Charlotte paced.
She'd known Ethan's father was dangerous.
But she hadn't known about him.
The other Lu son.
She remembered fragments—whispers of an affair, a woman banished from the country, a child hidden to preserve the Lu name.
She never thought the boy would grow into a weapon.
A shadow Ethan didn't see coming.
Suddenly, a knock on the door.
She opened it—then froze.
A young man stood there. Tall. Refined. Eyes the exact same shade as Ethan's—but colder.
"Is Ethan home?" he asked.
"Who are you?"
He smiled gently. "I'm someone who's waited his whole life for a reunion."