The hotel suite was quieter than Yuyan expected.
No bodyguards. No personal assistant. Just a single floor lamp casting soft light across pristine linens and the untouched minibar. She'd paid in cash and checked in under Xu Mei's name, careful not to leave a trail.
But still, she couldn't sleep.
Not with Zhao Lemin's face haunting her. Smiling in that photo. Polished. Calm. As if none of this had ever happened.
She opened her laptop and zoomed in on the image again.
There it was. The faint scar along his temple—Lemin had it since a bike accident in college. Except in this photo, it was… gone.
She leaned closer. Was it makeup? Editing? Or—
Her thoughts scattered when her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
She hesitated.
Then answered.
Silence. Just breath.
"…Hello?"
Then: "You shouldn't have left."
It was Zhao Luchen.
Her jaw tightened. "So now you're tracking me too?"
"I didn't have to," he said calmly. "You ran. That says enough."
She stood, pacing. "You think this is about you? Your stupid ring, your cold-bed marriage, your power games—"
"Stop," he said, sharp now. "This isn't a game to me, Lin Yuyan."
Her hand shook. "Then tell me where Lemin is."
Another pause.
"He's not who you think he is."
"I know that," she snapped. "But neither are you."
Before he could respond, she ended the call.
She sat down slowly, heart pounding, and stared at her own reflection in the dark window. Hair perfect. Skin flawless. But behind her eyes—cracks. She was unraveling.
And someone wanted her to.
—
The next morning, the set was chaotic.
Paparazzi swarmed the entrance—someone had leaked her location.
Xu Mei shoved her into a back entrance, panting. "They're saying you and Lemin are both missing. That you faked the wedding."
Yuyan blinked. "What?"
Xu Mei showed her the headlines:
> "Lin Yuyan Vanishes After Wedding Scandal—Where Are the Zhao Twins?"
> "Fake Bride, Real Lies?"
Someone was feeding the tabloids.
And someone was using her silence as ammunition.
—
That night, Yuyan returned to the penthouse.
Not because she wanted to. But because she needed answers.
It was dark when she stepped inside. Quiet—too quiet.
She flicked on a lamp.
Zhao Luchen sat by the window, drink in hand, no tie, shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
He looked like he hadn't slept.
Neither had she.
"You leaked the photo, didn't you?" she asked.
He didn't look at her. "No. But I could've."
"Then who did?"
"I have ideas." He sipped. "But none you'd like."
She walked past him, straight to the minibar, pouring herself something strong. "Why did your brother run?"
He met her eyes. "What if I told you he didn't run?"
She stilled.
"What if I told you… he handed you to me willingly?"
She turned slowly. "Why would he do that?"
Luchen stood now, towering. His voice was low. Controlled.
"Because he knew what was coming. And he knew I was the only one who could protect you from it."
Her laugh cracked. "That's rich. Protect me? You practically imprisoned me."
"No." He stepped closer. "I claimed you. There's a difference."
She stared at him.
"You're insane," she whispered.
He smiled faintly. "Possibly. But I've kept you alive."
Her heart stuttered.
"From what?"
He didn't answer.
Just reached into his coat and tossed a phone onto the table.
A burner. Prepaid.
On it, one message: a video file.
She opened it.
Footage. Grainy. From an airport.
Zhao Lemin—arguing with a man in a suit. Heated. Violent. Security intervenes.
But the man in the suit?
She froze.
It was the same man who escorted her into the wedding hall.
The man who said, "Mr. Zhao is waiting for you."
Yuyan's stomach turned.
"I never saw Lemin after that day," Luchen said. "But someone did. Someone who looks a lot like me."
Her blood ran cold.
"You're saying… you didn't steal the marriage."
He looked at her. "I'm saying it was always meant to happen this way."
—
That night, she locked herself in the guest bedroom.
She couldn't sleep.
Couldn't stop watching the video.
Couldn't stop seeing that man's face, and wondering—
How many Zhaos were in this game?
And how many masks had already been worn?
—