The next morning, Wenhao walked into the company headquarters with a confidence he did not feel. The building loomed around him, all glass and steel and cold efficiency. Four years away had made it feel foreign, like a place he had only ever visited in dreams.
Ruifen was already there. She stood near the reception desk, a tablet in her hands, her face drawn and tired. When she saw Wenhao, she straightened and smiled, but the smile did not reach her eyes.
"Wenhao," she said. "You're here early."
"So are you." He walked toward her and stopped a few feet away. "Ruifen, I told you yesterday. You can rest now. I'm here to handle everything."
Ruifen's jaw tightened. "But Wenhao, you don't know anything. I know everything. Let me help you. Let me help Father."
Wenhao looked at her. Really looked. The dark circles under her eyes. The tension in her shoulders. The way her hands gripped the tablet like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
He softened. "Ruifen, look at you. You're exhausted. When was the last time you slept through the night?"
Ruifen opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out.
"Exactly." Wenhao reached out and touched her arm gently. "Go home. Sleep. Eat something that isn't coffee and stress. I'll take care of things here."
Ruifen's eyes flickered with something. Relief. Resentment. Fear. She swallowed hard and forced a smile onto her face.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Okay. I'll go. But if you need anything—anything at all—you call me. Promise?"
"I promise."
Ruifen nodded and walked toward the door. She paused at the entrance and turned back. Her voice was softer now. "Take care of yourself too, Wenhao. You just got back."
Then she was gone.
Wenhao watched her leave and felt a pang of guilt. He had never been close to Ruifen. Not really. But she had stayed. She had held everything together while he was gone. She deserved more than a dismissal.
He would make it up to her. Later. When he had sorted out this mess.
He turned to Mr. Liang's assistant, a middle-aged man with tired eyes and a perpetually worried expression. "Tell me about the meeting."
The assistant shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, Ms. Ruifen said to cancel—"
"Don't cancel." Wenhao's voice was firm. "Tell me what this meeting is about."
The assistant hesitated, then sighed. "All the investors are furious, sir. The shareholders are threatening legal action. They invested in a major project three years ago—a commercial development on the east side—but the project never broke ground. The money has been funneled into various accounts and no one can trace where it went."
Wenhao's stomach dropped. "What do you mean no one can trace it? It's a company account. There should be records."
"There are records, sir. But they don't make sense. Some of the money was transferred to shell companies. Others were withdrawn in cash. Large amounts. No proper documentation."
Wenhao's hands curled into fists. "Who was in charge of the project?"
The assistant glanced away. "Ms. Ruifen, sir. She's been handling all major projects since Mr. Liang fell ill. She has her own assistant, her own team. I'm only involved when she needs Mr. Liang's signature."
Wenhao stared at him. "Ruifen? Ruifen was in charge?"
"Yes, sir. She took over after Miss Xinyi left."
But there was no way. There was no way she had stolen millions of dollars from the company. She loved their father. She had stayed when everyone else left.
"Are you sure?" Wenhao asked. "Are you absolutely sure there's no other explanation?"
The assistant shook his head. "I've been over the books a dozen times, sir. The trail leads to Ms. Ruifen's desk. Every time."
Wenhao's heart pounded. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. "What time is the meeting?"
"Ten o'clock, sir. In the main conference room. All major shareholders are attending."
Wenhao looked at the clock on the wall. He had forty-five minutes to figure out what was happening.
"Get me the files," he said. "All of them. The project records. The account transfers. Everything. I want to see it with my own eyes."
The assistant nodded and hurried away.
Wenhao stood in the middle of the empty lobby and tried to breathe.
Ruifen.
His mind kept circling back to her. The way she had looked at him this morning. The way she had offered to help. The way she had said let me help father with such desperate sincerity.
Was it all a lie? Or was there something he was missing?
He didn't have time to figure it out. He would have to go into that meeting and face the investors with nothing but questions and a gut feeling that something was very, very wrong.
He straightened his tie and walked toward the conference room.
The room was already full when he entered. Men and women in expensive suits, their faces hard with anger and distrust. They turned to look at him as he walked in, their eyes sharp and calculating.
One of them stood up. A large man with a red face and a booming voice. "Who are you? Where's Ms. Liang?"
Wenhao walked to the head of the table and sat down. "I'm Wenhao Liang. Mr. Liang's son. I'll be handling things from now on."
A murmur rippled through the room.
The large man slammed his hand on the table. "We don't care who you are. We want our money. We invested in good faith and we've been lied to. If we don't get answers today, we're going to the authorities."
Wenhao held up his hands. "I understand your frustration. And I'm going to get you answers. But I need time. I just returned yesterday. I'm still getting up to speed."
The man scoffed. "Time? We've been waiting for three years. We're done waiting."
Another shareholder spoke up. "Your sister promised us returns. She promised the project would start. She took our money and gave us nothing."
"Where is Ruifen?" someone else shouted. "Why isn't she here to answer for herself?"
Wenhao's jaw tightened. "My sister is unwell. She's resting at home. But I assure you, I will get to the bottom of this."
"With what?" the large man demanded. "You just admitted you know nothing."
Wenhao met his eyes. "I know enough to know that something is wrong. And I will find out what it is. But I can't do that while you're all shouting at me. Please believe me once and give me One week to investigate, to go through the books, to find out where the money went. And I promise I'll return all of your money And if I don't have answers for you by then, you can do whatever you want. Sue the company. Go to the press. Call the authorities. I won't stop you."
The room fell silent.
The large man studied Wenhao with narrowed eyes. "One week. And we need our money back."
Wenhao nodded. "One week. I give you my word."
The shareholders exchanged glances. Then slowly, one by one, they stood up and filed out of the room.
Wenhao sat alone in the conference room, his hands shaking, his heart racing, his mind full of more questions than he could count.
Ruifen.
What had she done?
He pulled out his phone and stared at it. He should call her. Confront her. Demand answers.
But something held him back.
He needed proof first. He needed to be sure.
He stood up and walked back to his father's office. The assistant had left the files on the desk, stacked in neat piles. Wenhao sat down and started reading.
The numbers blurred together. The accounts multiplied. The transfers grew more complex the deeper he went. But through the maze of transactions, one pattern emerged.
All roads led to Ruifen.
Wenhao closed the file and pressed his palms against his eyes.
His head ached. His chest ached. Everything ached.
He had come home to save his father's company, to protect what was left of his family.
But he had walked into a trap he didn't even know existed.
And the person holding the keys was the one person he had never suspected.