The restaurant was quiet.
Thick carpets dulled the sound of footsteps, and the glass windows wrapped around the upper floor like a dome of privilege.
Leon sat at the private corner table, his posture razor-straight, and his expression carved from stone. A cup of black coffee rested in front of him, untouched. He never drank much during meetings, especially not with men like Bill Chalmers.
Bill Chalmers.
Across from him, the man laughed, low and lazy, like a lion who hadn't been challenged in a long time.
Bill Chalmers, age sixty-three. He was the fourth-richest man in the country and the head of Chalmers Global Freight. He was tan like he lived on boats, not land. Thick silver hair slicked back like it was trained to obey.
And his suit? Tailored. Of course.
His watch? More expensive than a condo in downtown Meiran.
He chewed a slice of rare steak, his mouth moving and munching in a way that disgusted Leon. "You know, I still can't believe it."
Leon tilted his head. "Believe what?"
"That you, of all people, got married." Chalmers chuckled and leaned back. "I thought you were smarter than that."
Leon lowered his head, a chuckle escaping his lips. "You came to talk logistics," He said, voice cool. "Not gossip."
Chalmers waved him off, grinning. "Oh, don't be so stiff. Everyone's talking about it. Power brokers, investors. You. Married. And not just to anyone, mind you, but some young thing who, well. She is not exactly a cold-blooded executive. Lucas told me he spoke with her yesterday."
Leon glanced up then. His stare was silent but sharp and he pursed his lip.
Bill Chalmers and Lucas Shen? Were they now in cahoots?
"She's stunning, I'll give you that," Bill continued, amused. "But love? Come on. We both know that's not what this is."
"I mean, you? You of all people? The Ice King of Meiran?" Chalmers laughed again, shaking his head. "Please. You married her for something else, presentation, maybe. Image. Balance. Tell me, why did you?"
Leon tilted his head slightly, like a warning disguised as politeness. "I believe you're projecting."
"I'm reminiscing," Chalmers said easily, sipping his wine. "I married for love once. Nearly cost me half my company. And I am never trying that again."
Leon didn't respond to Bill's comments. He had no business sharing that his marriage was truly one of convenience and not love. He had no business sharing that he too had been burnt by the flame of love.
His fingers tapped once against the side of the cup.
And then his phone buzzed.
Yuyan.
He frowned. She rarely called. Especially when she knew he would be in a meeting.
"Excuse me, I have to take this," he said, sliding the phone to his ear. "Yes, Yuyan?"
Yuyan's voice was hushed. Tight. "Hello sir. I apologize for getting in the way of your meeting, but I wouldn't call unless it was urgent."
Leon's back straightened, his eyebrows furrowing. "Speak."
"It's Mrs. Feng."
That alone drew a twitch behind his eye. "What about her?"
"She was in the penthouse. She ate. Rested. But then she… attempted to leave."
Leon didn't speak.
"She said she just needed air. A walk," Yuyan continued. "I asked her to wait. I went to call you first. But… Sir—"
A muffled voice came through on her end. There was someone speaking quickly and Leon pressed the phone tighter to his ear.
Yuyan's voice returned, sharper. "Sir, she has already left the building."
For a long second, Leon said nothing.
Then: "Direction?"
"We're checking the cameras now—"
He hung up.
"Is there a problem, Leon Feng?" Chalmers asked, raising a brow.
Leon stood on his feet, adjusting his shirt. "I have to go."
Chalmers laughed, clearly forced. "Seriously? You're bailing on me mid-meal? We haven't even gotten to the true purpose of this meeting."
Leon reached for his coat, sliding it on with practiced ease. "Damien will send the final logistics brief."
Chalmers scoffed, his face now displaying annoyance. "You're actually leaving?"
Leon fastened the final button on his coat. "Something came up."
Chalmers leaned back in his seat with a cynical smile, raising his glass lazily. "Let me guess, wife trouble already? If she's already sneaking out, maybe she's realizing what she signed up for."
Leon paused, turned his head slightly at his words, just enough to look at Chalmers from the corner of his eyes. Then he smiled, before opening his mouth.
"Maybe," he said, voice low. "Or maybe she just forgot whose name is on the tower."
Chalmers stared at Leon for a second before he laughed, half-heartedly, and brought the wine to his lips again.
Leon squeezed his face in disgust and started walking away.
As the glass doors closed behind him and the city air hit his face, his chest coiled tight.
She left. She had walked out. She had rebelled.
Even though it was stated in the contract that her every movement be monitored by him or Yuyan. She had still foolishly ran.
And that? That was what got under his skin.
As the car pulled up and Leon slid inside, he dialed Yuyan's contact again, squeezing the phone a bit too tightly.
"Find her," he told Yuyan, his voice low. "Don't follow. Don't interfere. Just tell me where she is."
"Yes, sir."
He ended the call.
The city blurred past the window. People and lights. And somewhere among them, his wife. Leon gritted his teeth, tightening his knuckles.
He was the kind of man who didn't move without purpose, and he expected the same from everything he owned. From his business to the people around him.
And right now?
One of his pieces had shifted.
Without his signal. Without his knowledge.
Kaya Song, his temporary wife, his contract-bound complication, had walked off the board mid-game.
Leon exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself, the leather of his seat creaking under his stillness. His fingers flexed once against the armrest.
The corner of his mouth twitched, part irritation, part… something else. Something sharper. Something amused.
Intrigue.
She wanted to test the rules?
Fine.
Let her wander.
Let her take her little step off the board.
Let her pretend, just for a moment, that she had freedom.
He'd let her go just far enough to taste it.
Before he reminded her, gently, or not, that every square on the board still belonged to him.
And so did she.