Chapter 1
Rain threatened Shanghai’s skyline all morning, but by noon, the clouds had parted like obedient courtiers, revealing a sky polished to impossible blue. Inside the Grand Oriental Hotel’s Crystal Ballroom, two hundred guests murmured over champagne flutes, their eyes fixed on the entrance where history was about to be rewritten—not with blood, but with contracts and couture.
Patricia Mo stood at the altar, spine straight as a steel rod, black hair swept into a severe chignon that accentuated the sharp planes of her face. She wore white—not out of tradition, but irony. The gown, custom-made by a Parisian house she could no longer afford, hugged her frame with icy elegance. To the world, she was the poised heiress of the fallen Mo dynasty, marrying up to save her family’s name. But beneath the silk and illusion, her stomach churned like storm-tossed sea.
She wasn’t marrying a man. She was marrying a child.
And yet, the child was worth billions.
The music swelled—a string quartet playing a modern arrangement of Pachelbel’s Canon—and every head turned.
Mary Tang appeared in the doorway.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
She was… luminous.
Dressed in ivory lace with tiny pearl buttons trailing down her back, Mary clutched a bouquet of white peonies and baby’s breath. Her栗色 curls bounced softly around her shoulders, framing wide amber eyes that darted nervously across the room like a startled fawn. At twenty-four, she stood tall—almost Patricia’s height—but carried herself with the hesitant grace of someone half her age. A faint blush colored her cheeks, and when she spotted Patricia, her lips parted in a shy, wobbly smile.
“She looks twelve,” someone whispered.
“Poor thing. After the accident…”
“Still owns half of Shanghai’s waterfront.”
Patricia forced her expression neutral. This was business. Survival. Her father’s debts had swallowed the Mo Group whole; only an alliance with the Tang empire could drag them from the abyss. And Robert Tang—Mary’s grandfather, the iron-fisted patriarch—had made his terms clear: *Marry my granddaughter. Care for her. In return,唐氏集团 is yours to run.*
No love required. Only duty.
Mary reached the altar, blinking up at Patricia with open curiosity. “You’re… really pretty,” she said, voice soft as dandelion fluff.
Patricia’s throat tightened. “Thank you,” she managed, offering her arm.
The officiant droned through vows neither woman truly understood. Mary repeated her lines with careful concentration, stumbling once on “forsaking all others,” which made a few guests titter nervusement. Patricia spoke hers like a corporate merger announcement—clear, precise, devoid of tremor.
When it came time to kiss, Mary tilted her head, confused. “Do I… do I kiss you like in movies?”
Patricia hesitated. Then, gently, she leaned down and pressed a dry, chaste kiss to Mary’s forehead.
A collective sigh rose—part disappointment, part relief.
After the ceremony, the reception exploded in glittering chaos. Cameras flashed. Toasts were made. Robert Tang, resplendent in a tailored suit, raised his glass with tears in his eyes. “To my granddaughter—and to Patricia, who will guard her as I once guarded her father.”
Patricia nodded, sipping champagne that tasted like ash.
Mary, meanwhile, sat quietly at the head table, nibbling a macaron. She watched Patricia laugh politely at some banker’s joke, her dark eyes unreadable. Once, when their gazes met, Mary waved shyly.
*She doesn’t know what this means,* Patricia thought. *She thinks it’s a game. A dress-up party.*
But later, as dusk painted the Huangpu River gold, Mary tugged at Patricia’s sleeve during a lull in the dancing. “Will you… stay with me tonight?” she asked, voice small. “In the big room? The one with the pink curtains?”
Patricia knelt beside her chair, adjusting the strap of Mary’s dress that had slipped off one slender shoulder. “Yes,” she said softly. “I’ll stay.”
Mary beamed, as if Patricia had promised her the moon.
And in that moment, something inside Patricia cracked—not broke, but softened, like ice yielding to spring.
This wasn’t just a transaction anymore.
It never was.
Because even a child could see loneliness. And Patricia, for all her armor, radiated it.
