The next morning, the entire city knew.
Every business forum, every gossip feed, every screen flashed one headline after another:
> "Lian Corporation CEO's Fiancé Confronts Ex in Office."
"Wei Jun Thrown Out by Security—Caught on Camera?"
"Rian Zhao Protects His Fiancée. A New Power Couple?"
Clips of the confrontation spread online like wildfire.
Comments flooded in—some defending Yue's coldness, others pitying Lin Xinya's fake tears.
Inside her office, Lian Yue scrolled through the news calmly, a faint smile playing at her lips.
"Let them talk," she murmured. "Public sympathy is still a weapon."
Her assistant entered nervously. "President Lian, the board said Rian Zhao's PR team just issued a statement."
She raised an eyebrow. "Already?"
> Official Statement – Zhao Corporation:
"Miss Lian Yue is not only my fiancée but the woman I respect the most.
No one has the right to insult her, publicly or privately. – Rian Zhao."
Her heart skipped for a second before she caught herself. "He really went that far?"
"Should I… thank him?" she asked the empty room, but her lips were already curving.
---
Elsewhere
Wei Jun slammed his phone down.
"Why does he always show up for her?! Every time!"
Lin Xinya, her arm bandaged from yesterday's 'fall,' tried to soothe him.
"She's making you look like a fool. But I have an idea."
Wei Jun looked up sharply.
"If she's going to play perfect fiancée," Lin Xinya whispered, "then let's ruin her image.
A single scandal—fake or real—and no one will call her pure again."
Wei Jun's glare softened with cruel interest. "Do it. I want her crawling back to me when Zhao dumps her."
Lin Xinya smiled faintly. If only you knew, she thought. I'm not doing this for you.
---
Evening
Lian Yue stepped out of her office late that night, exhaustion hidden under elegance.
A sleek black car waited outside, door already open.
Rian Zhao leaned casually against it, sleeves rolled up, eyes glinting under the streetlights.
"You've been ignoring my calls," he said.
"I was busy cleaning up your PR stunt," she replied smoothly.
He smiled. "Then let me make it up to you."
Before she could refuse, he opened the car door. "Dinner. No reporters, no business—just us."
---
The Dinner
The restaurant was quiet, private—just candlelight and the faint hum of soft jazz.
Yue placed her napkin on her lap, posture perfect, expression unreadable.
"Why did you do it?" she asked. "That statement. You didn't have to."
He leaned back, studying her. "Because you didn't deserve the headlines they were writing."
"I can handle rumors," she said.
"I know," he replied softly. "But I don't like watching you handle them alone."
For a second, her eyes met his—and it wasn't just power between them anymore.
It was something she didn't want to name.
She looked away, sipping her wine. "You're getting too comfortable, Zhao."
"Maybe," he murmured, "or maybe I just like seeing you lose control for once."
Her hand stilled on the glass. "That won't happen."
He smiled, slow and confident. "We'll see."
---
When the bill came, she reached for her purse, but he stopped her hand.
"Tonight, it's mine."
"Fine," she said coolly, standing. "But next time—"
He stepped closer. "Next time?"
She froze, realizing what she'd implied. "I mean—if there is one."
Rian smirked. "There will be."
---
Meanwhile…
In another part of the city, Lin Xinya sent a file to a journalist—pictures of Yue leaving the restaurant with Rian Zhao.
She whispered to herself, "Let's see how loyal the public is to their perfect couple."