The office air conditioner hummed, its cold breath stiffening everyone in the room.
I stood in the center of the conference room, clutching the promotion evaluation report. The paper’s edge was nearly softened by sweat. All thirty pairs of eyes were on me—some mocking, some eager to see me fail, a few senior managers not even bothering to hide their smug sneers.
"Are you sure you want to raise objections now, Aisha Lin?" The CEO sat at the far end of the long table, his tone condescending, like he was scolding a disobedient child. "The personnel decision has already been made. Zhou Ce is gone, the position is open—but the company needs stability."
"But the data doesn't lie." My voice was calm, steadier than I expected. "In the past eighteen months, the three cross-border projects I led achieved a 97% collection rate, and my team has the lowest turnover in the entire company. As for Wang Rui—" I paused, my gaze sweeping toward the man in the corner who had suddenly straightened in his seat—"his Southeast Asia division posted a loss of 43 million last quarter."
The air froze for a heartbeat.
Someone coughed lightly. Others flipped through files, pretending not to listen. Then, the door opened.
Heels clicked against the marble floor—measured, unhurried—each step echoing the rhythm of my pounding heart.
She entered in a sharply tailored black suit, a silver eagle-shaped brooch pinned at her collar—the symbol of ultimate authority within the集团. Everyone rose instantly. Even the CEO got to his feet.
"Apologies for being late." She removed her sunglasses, revealing eyes so cold they could freeze fire. "I'm Gu Chenzhou, the new president. Please treat me well."
My entire body went rigid.
Gu Chenzhou.
Three years ago, on a rainy night, he held me tightly at the airport and whispered, "Wait for me three months. I'll come back and marry you."
Then he vanished. No calls. No emails. Just an anonymous breakup letter that read: **You don’t belong in my world.**
And now, here he stood—his gaze sliding over me without the slightest pause, as if I were nothing more than a stranger.
"Regarding this position," he said, flipping open the file, his voice eerily calm, "I don’t believe it should be handed out based on seniority. It should go to whoever can turn the division profitable within three months."
He finally looked at me. "Aisha Lin. You claim you can do it?"
Silence swallowed the room.
I knew—this wasn’t an opportunity. It was a trap.
But since he’s returned… I won’t run anymore.
I met his gaze, word by deliberate word: "Not only will I do it. I’ll make you watch as I turn it into the most profitable department across the entire Asia-Pacific region."
His eyes narrowed slightly. A faint, razor-thin smile curved his lips.
Like a blade drawn across ice.
On the day of the board meeting, snow fell against the glass walls, silent as a funeral without sound.
We both knew—
This wasn’t about the position.
It was about that broken night, three years ago.
