Part 1: The Anniversary of Treachery
The crystal chandelier in the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel cast a deceptive sparkle over the crowd. Tonight wasn’t just our tenth wedding anniversary; it was the ten-year signing of the largest cross-border deal in the history of Dragon Rise Group—a triumph I, Lin Wancho (now known as Eleanor ‘Ellie’ Vance in this new American life), had fought tooth and nail to secure. I stood by my husband, Jong-Xiang Chen (now Jonathan Chen), the picture of success: a CEO at the peak of her power, draped in a gown that whispered ‘billionaire’ and a smile that hid a decade of silent battles.
“Honey, have you arrived? I’m almost there,” I had whispered into the phone just hours before the gala, standing on a New York City sidewalk.
I’d sent my security detail back, a seemingly foolish act of romantic abandon.
“Just the two of us, no need for bodyguards, right?”
“Just stay right there, I’ll be there soon,” Jonathan’s voice was smooth, a velvet lie wrapped around a blade.
I should have heard the chilling undertone, the barely contained malice.
That’s when the world tilted. Not with a polite warning, but with a screech of tires and the brutal flash of chrome. A black SUV slammed into the curb, and a figure lunged—not to greet me, but to kill.
“Old hag,” a woman’s voice, shrill and venomous, sliced through the air. A bullet whizzed past my ear, splintering the marble façade behind me.
My God. It wasn’t a random attack.
It was a professional hit. The kind they don’t walk away from. My wedding anniversary, my crowning moment, was meant to be my execution.
I threw myself behind a massive stone planter. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, desperate drum solo. Ten years. Ten years of building this empire, only for my husband to try and cash out my life insurance policy—with my life.
“Lin Wancho! Just stay right there!” the voice screamed.
Then, a blur of motion. A shadow detached itself from the building, moving with a controlled, lethal grace that was terrifyingly beautiful. He moved like a coiled spring released in a burst of violent poetry. He wasn’t in a suit; he was in street clothes—a simple, dark jacket—but his eyes were the hardest thing I’d ever seen, focused solely on the threat.
“Go. Run towards that car. I’ll signal you later,” he barked, his voice low, American, and commanding. He didn’t wait for a reply, instead engaging the attacker in a brutal, silent skirmish.
I didn’t hesitate. I ran.
I made it to the idling sedan, scrambling into the passenger seat. My impromptu savior, the Good Samaritan with the killer instincts, slid in behind the wheel, a thin line of blood already trailing down his temple.
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded, gasping for air, the acrid smell of gunpowder still stinging my nostrils.
“To a safe place, Miss Vance,” he replied, peeling away from the scene with an expert, controlled swerve.
“Who in New York doesn’t know Ellie Vance? CEO of Dragon Rise Group. I’m just a helpful passerby.”
A helpful passerby who moved like a black-ops mercenary and knew my name. I was safe, but not for long. The paranoia was setting in, thick and suffocating.
Jonathan Chen actually wants to kill me. My husband. The man I had loved for ten years, the man I gave 51% of the company shares to, the man who wept when we lost our child seven years ago, was trying to bury me to seize the entire corporation. I had to face the truth: the man who swore he’d give me the finest things money could buy was now demanding the ultimate price.
I have been reborn, right before I was killed.
Part 2: The Double Life and The Double-Cross
The police and my remaining loyal security team found me, shaken but alive, in a secluded safe house in Brooklyn, thanks to the ‘Good Samaritan.’ They whisked me to the hotel, patched up a small scrape on my arm, and advised rest.
Jonathan rushed in, playing the role of the distraught husband to perfection.
“Sweetheart, I rushed here as fast as I could! Thank God you’re safe!”
His mother, Cynthia Chen (my so-called caring mother-in-law), was right behind him.
“Your mother warned you! Traveling this far without security! Such a touching family scene.”
If I hadn’t been standing there, alive, with the cold hard evidence of a bullet hole behind me, I would have been convinced by their tears. I was witnessing a masterpiece of emotional manipulation.
“After today’s events, I can’t risk your safety anymore,” Jonathan declared, his voice firm, his jaw clenched in feigned concern.
“Perhaps you should let me take over the Group temporarily.”
Cynthia nodded sagely.
“She’s right, Ellie. A woman’s place is with her family. You and Jonathan should try for another child. Hand it over.“
The audacity was breathtaking. They had tried to kill me, and now they were demanding my empire as a consolation prize.
“And if I refuse?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
“I’m not giving up yet, dear,” Jonathan said, masking his fury with a patronizing smile.
“Let’s return to the hotel. Tomorrow’s victory banquet awaits.”
The victory banquet. The one they thought would be my wake.
That night, I made a call. I found the contact info for the “helpful passerby.” His name was Ethan Young (originally Yen Chingu), and he wasn’t a passerby; he was a former mercenary. A ghost. He was the key. I had the traitors, but I needed the proof. I needed them to try killing me again, and fail spectacularly on a global stage.
Part 3: The Necklace and the New Bodyguard
The next evening, the ballroom glittered again. But this time, I wasn’t the lamb—I was the wolf.
“First, I want to introduce to everyone my beloved, Mr. Jonathan Chen,” I announced to the assembled corporate elite.
“This necklace around my neck? He spent 300 million dollars on this anniversary gift! Honey, when I had nothing, you chose me. From that day on, everything I have is yours.”
Jonathan preened, soaking up the applause, completely oblivious. The necklace was, of course, a fake. The real one was locked away, an ace up my sleeve.
But the night had another surprise.
“Mr. Chen, this is the new addition to the bodyguard team, Ethan Young,” a commission official announced. “Starting today, he’ll be responsible for the Madam’s security.”
Ethan Young—my savior, now my shadow. He was clean, orphaned, with a military record that was both impeccable and terrifying. A man like this, why was he approaching me?
“I heard he previously saved the madam, was a mercenary overseas,” Jonathan said, sizing up Ethan with unconcealed suspicion.
“Thank you for your help that day. See how you can reward him, Ellie.”
I smiled at Ethan, a slow, conspiratorial smile.
“Good evening, Mr. Young. I trust you’ll be thorough.”
Later that night, the show began. I caught Jonathan and his mistress, Serena Woo (the “little darling” and Jonathan’s personal secretary), in an illicit rendezvous in a private room.
“So, when exactly will you divorce her?” Serena whined.
“I’m so close to the top, at this critical time, no mistakes allowed,” Jonathan hissed.
Mistakes. That’s all they ever made. My security guard, Ethan, was trying to saw the locked door open. I needed an audience.
Then, Cynthia appeared.
“Mom’s here to save us!” she exclaimed.
I played the confused wife.
“Mom, I wanted to surprise Jonathan by putting the ten-year contract in the wardrobe, but now the wardrobe won’t open no matter what!”
“You’re giving the contract to Jonathan?” Cynthia’s eyes went wide with pure, unfiltered greed.
“If my son gets that contract, Ellie will be left with nothing! I’ll have all the executives come up to witness this! Call the executives up! Tell him to start soaring!“
And just like that, the entire Dragon Rise executive board arrived to witness their Vice President’s infidelity. Ethan finally broke the lock.
Jonathan, caught in the act with Serena, stammered.
“Honey, it’s not what you think! I drank too much! I mistook Serena for you!”
Serena, ever the loyal viper, said, “Miss Vance, I didn’t do anything with your husband. It must be you, my dear, seducing my son!”
The sheer theatricality of the moment was Oscar-worthy.
I tossed the fake necklace—the 300-million-dollar gift—onto the floor.
“This necklace looks very fake,” I said, my voice cutting through the stunned silence.
“What’s fake is always fake. A pheasant can never be a phoenix.“
With my exit, the true nature of my marriage was exposed to the world.
Part 4: The Family Photo and The Dead Child
The next day, the stakes were raised. Jonathan and Cynthia tried a new tactic: psychological warfare.
“Wife, it’s been a while since we had a family photo to commemorate it,” Jonathan said, gathering us in the living room.
Then, a little boy walked in, holding Serena’s hand. Little Jun.
“Sister Vance, a long time no see! This must be your child. So cute!” Serena cooed, flashing a venomous smile.
“Little Jun, isn’t he your child?” Jonathan pressed, holding the boy up.
“He and you as kids look so alike! Ellie, quick, hug your son!”
The sight of the child broke me for a moment. My child died long ago. Seven years ago, we lost him, and the grief had nearly consumed me. They were using my deepest wound as a weapon.
“Mom, to force me to divorce, you stop at nothing! Even my dead child, you dare defile!” I screamed.
“Little Jun was the bond of our marriage! Say that about him again! If we divorce, the property division, you won’t get a penny!” Cynthia threatened.
I needed an out. I looked at Ethan, who was standing like a statue. Help me. Do something.
As the cameras flashed for the “happy family photo,” Ethan stepped forward. He didn’t say a word. He simply hit Jonathan. A swift, clean blow that sent him staggering.
“What are you doing? He hit me!” Jonathan cried.
“Young master, you can’t just say that,” Ethan said, his eyes burning with controlled fury.
I seized the moment.
“Don’t leave, Jonathan Chen! I told you if you make me unhappy…” I ripped a document from a briefcase.
“Share Transfer Agreement!“
“Wife, this isn’t a suggestion!” Jonathan was panicking.
“You’re transferring your shares in Dragon Rise Group all to Little Jun?” Cynthia whispered, thinking she’d won.
“Madam gives all her shares to her son. This is so touching!”
“Yes, he’s not my son,” I declared, my voice ringing with finality.
“Chin Suan, what did you call me? You’ve got it backwards.” I looked Little Jun dead in the eye.
“Mom, won’t that bad person be haunted?”
Little Jun, coached, said.
“Mom, wait a moment. We have a generation gap. I should call you brother-in-law.”
The room erupted.
“Brother-in-law? Mrs. Chen, what do you mean?” The question hung in the air.
I delivered the coup de grâce.
“This child is your mother-in-law’s son.”
Little Jun wasn’t Jonathan’s son. He was the illegitimate son of Jonathan’s elderly father, Mr. Chen, and Serena Woo, making Jonathan his half-brother, and Little Jun his uncle’s son.
The Cheen family’s world exploded. Stocks plummeted. The family photo scandal was all over the news. I had turned their weapon against them.
“If one day I meet with misfortune or accident, all my assets and shares will be donated to charity,” I announced to the media, a final layer of protection against murder.
Part 5: The Faked Death and The Final Betrayal
I knew what had to come next. They had to be certain I was gone to make their final move. I had to let them kill me one last time.
My investigation into Ethan Young was yielding nothing but a clean slate, except for one unsettling detail: He’s not doing it for money. Just for me. But why should that be? On what grounds?
The next day, Jonathan tried to force a ‘reconciliation,’ but Ethan intervened, taking a punch for me. Later, in the aftermath, I looked at Ethan’s data.
“Orphaned. Pure and clean.” The only unusual thing was his blood type. O-negative.
“You’re trying to force them to kill you,” Ethan finally admitted.
“Yes. I won’t let them take my life’s work. Instead, I’ll make them lose everything,” I confirmed.
“This is too dangerous.”
“If you don’t plan to join my side, then you can continue sticking to your bodyguard duty,” I challenged.
He looked at me, his eyes betraying a deep, hidden pain.
“I can accept your offer to protect you. But the real reason I’m here, I must wait until the time is right to tell you.”
Part 6: The Poisoned Toast and The Revelation
The final act was a dinner reception. I knew they would try to poison me.
As I was about to drink a toast with a potential partner, Ethan’s hand shot out. He didn’t grab the glass; he grabbed a second bottle of wine and poured himself a glass.
“This wine has issues,” he said, his eyes narrowed.
“Nonsense! Dragon Rise Group’s wine can’t have issues! You’re just a mere bodyguard!” Jonathan yelled.
Ethan ignored him. He took a long, deliberate drink of my wine, then spat it out, substituting a bottle of high-end competitor wine, making the switch look like a taste test. He was buying me time.
“This truly is good wine,” the partner said, impressed.
Jonathan’s temper flared. He attacked Ethan, confirming my bodyguard’s accusation of foul play. The partners left, spooked.
Ethan collapsed, bleeding from a wound from the brawl, but more critically, suffering from the effects of the poison.
At the hospital, the doctor said he needed a transfusion. I stepped forward.
“I’m O negative,” I said, a fact I’d known since my son’s surgery years ago.
As I lay in the transfusion chair, my blood literally flowing into his veins, I looked at Ethan’s still face. If back then I hadn’t doubted you, if I had recognized you sooner…
I remembered the last time my son, Little Ching, had a transfusion. It was 15 years ago, when he was just an infant, before he died.
Wait. 15 years. That was the age gap Ethan and I had discussed.
Suddenly, an image flashed in my mind: Little Ching, crying for candy.
I looked at Ethan’s face. The strong jaw, the deep-set eyes… a ghost of a child’s face I had tried so hard to forget.
Little Ching. I whispered the memory.
“You’ve grown so big. Who would have thought? 15 years later, we’d meet like this.”
Ethan Young was my son, Little Ching (or Shinshin in the source), the child I thought I had lost, the child whose death I’d mourned for seven years.
I put the pieces together from the hospital: the O-negative blood, the 15-year age gap, the sudden appearance, the ferocious loyalty, the hidden reason. He had been saved by the transfusion all those years ago but taken by a family who faked his death to use as blackmail. He had tracked me down to protect me.
Now, I was no longer fighting for a company; I was fighting for my son.
Part 7: The Poisoned Pen and The Ghost
“Remove all security,” I told my loyal team.
“Only this way can we find them.”
I prepared the last weapon: a mini-camera and a poisoned pen.
Jonathan called.
“Where are you, Lynn? Wo? Have you really thought this through for that other man? I’ll transfer the company to your name. From now on, we’ll go our separate ways.”
I met him, seemingly defeated. As he gloated, I transferred the shares. But the pen I used was my own.
Later, a staged scene. Jonathan and Cynthia stood over my hospital bed.
“Wait till she dies,” Jonathan smirked.
“I’m first in line to inherit.”
“Mom, don’t worry. I’ve prepared something special. Special medicine,” Cynthia cooed, holding up a syringe.
Then, the confession.
“Speaking of Little Ching, I regretted back then that I didn’t kill that little darling!”
Cynthia blurted out.
“What do you mean? Wasn’t that an accident?” Jonathan asked.
“Of course not! That little cutie found out! She insisted on telling her! I had no choice, so I had to harshly strangle him! Mother and son, they’re just alike. So cute.”
Harshly strangle him. My blood ran cold, but the mini-camera was recording everything. I finally had the evidence of my son’s attempted murder, a crime they had hidden for years.
Then, the final confrontation. A young woman, seemingly a student, walked in, armed with the evidence of Jonathan’s affair. She was a distraction, a pawn in my game.
As Jonathan and Cynthia signed papers and celebrated their supposed victory, a voice cut through the air, bone-chillingly calm.
“I’m not dead.“
I stood in the doorway, a figure of icy vengeance, my gown replaced by a sharp, dark suit. I was the ghost come back to collect a debt.
“You—you’re a human or a ghost? Impossible! She was clearly…” Jonathan stammered, his face white with terror.
“I’m a person. I’m a living person. I’ve come to collect my debt,” I said.
The police swarmed the room.
“We received a report. There was an attempted murder,” the officer announced.
“Jonathan Chen, Cynthia Chen, you’ll have to come with us.”
Jonathan, desperate, tried to turn on his mother.
“It was all your terrible idea! We are all ruined now!”
“It was clearly you coveting the Group’s assets! Killed your son with your own hands! You are the real culprit!” Cynthia shrieked back.
They were finished, consumed by their own greed and lies.
Part 8: The Rest of Our Lives
Later, away from the police, the cameras, and the wreckage of my former life, Ethan and I stood by the bay.
“It’s all over now,” I sighed, leaning into his shoulder.
He pulled back gently, his eyes filled with the sincerity I had longed for a decade.
“I know there’s a gap between us. I also know you’ve been through a lot. But please believe me, I will love you with all my might.”
“Ethan,” I corrected him, “I want to protect you and cherish you.”
He paused, then smiled.
“Mom, I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.”
I smiled back, tears finally falling, no longer of grief or fear, but of profound, overwhelming relief. My son was alive. I had my life back. And together, we had conquered the dragon.
