The full-moon banquet was held at the Tai Ping Lake villa, only the top dogs of Shanghai invited.
I wore a black qipao slit to the thigh, waist cinched brutally tight, announcing to everyone: I just gave birth and can still kill.
The boy was named Fu Zhijiang.
"Zhijiang"—so he'll always know the Huangpu's power.
Third round of drinks, Gu Xinghe approached with his glass, thinner, dark circles under his eyes, still wearing that refined smile:
"Director Lin, congratulations. The kid's got your eyes—ruthless."
I swirled my wine, smiled sweetly: "Mr. Gu, eye my son again and I'll delist the entire Gu empire next year."
He just leaned close and whispered, "I'm waiting for you to go dark again."
Tang Shi got drunk, clung to my legs crying: "Sis… you don't need me anymore, do you…"
I crouched, stroked his hair like a child: "Idiot. There'll always be a slot for you on my blade."
He sobbed harder.
Fu Juanzhou stood on the second-floor balcony, looking down at the wolves below.
He suddenly raised his glass and shouted to the room:
"One announcement tonight—
every GP interest I own now carries an irrevocable clause:
when I die, everything goes to Fu Zhijiang.
Touch my son and I wipe your entire family."
Three seconds of silence, then thunderous applause.
I looked up at him and something inside me collapsed.
Not touched.
Resigned.