But as Jiang Yanxu turned back toward the waiting limousine, the warmth in his expression vanished like smoke. His face slipped back into the impenetrable mask everyone knew—cold, unreadable, and today, there was something else ... something unsettling beneath the surface. An air of calculation, as if he'd slipped into a persona no one could reach.
Ye Xinren remained at the doorstep, waving brightly as the car pulled away, pretending not to notice the sudden chill lingering in the air.
Just as he was about to step back inside, a flash of something caught his eye.
The car Jiang Yanxu had used yesterday sat parked off to the side, faint sunlight glinting off a warped, dented panel. The side door was scraped, as though it had met something metallic—and lost.
Ye Xinren froze.
