The city buzzed beneath her, alive with flashing lights, camera clicks, and whispers that refused to die down.
Lin Yuyan closed the curtains of her hotel suite, blocking out the glittering skyline and the persistent eyes of the public. The scandal had hit the entertainment blogs at dawn—fuzzy paparazzi shots of her exiting a car late at night, hair tousled, her co-star Zhou Yi walking a step too close.
The headlines screamed:
> "Mrs. Zhao or Leading Lady? Lin Yuyan Spotted Sneaking Out with Co-Star!"
> "Married but Missing Her Twin Groom—New Flame for the Forgotten Bride?"
Xu Mei had texted nonstop. Reporters camped outside the hotel. Fans and haters flooded social media, drawing lines and pointing fingers.
But the real storm arrived at 9 a.m.
A sharp knock. Then a keycard.
The door opened.
Zhao Luchen walked in like he owned the place—because technically, he did. The hotel was under a Zhao Holdings subsidiary.
Yuyan didn't even flinch. "Do you make a habit of walking into women's hotel rooms without permission?"
"You signed a contract," he said coolly, shutting the door behind him. "Clause 7B—image management. All press-related decisions fall under joint approval."
She crossed her arms. "You think I staged that photo? I was working."
"You think the world cares? They see what they want. A wife sneaking off with another man."
His voice was low, tight with restrained fury.
She stepped toward him. "Then issue a statement."
"I already did," he said. "We're a happily married couple. No scandals. No separation."
Yuyan froze. "You lied to the media?"
He stepped closer. "I salvaged your reputation."
"No. You pinned me to your shadow again."
A beat of silence.
Then his voice dropped. "You're not just mine on paper, Yuyan. You're mine in the eyes of everyone watching. And I won't let you be torn apart because of a misunderstanding."
Her heart thudded.
He wasn't yelling. He wasn't threatening.
But he was possessive. Protective. Like she was a thing too fragile to be handled by anyone else.
She should've been angry.
Instead, she whispered, "Why are you doing this?"
Luchen stared at her for a moment too long. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a folded document.
He laid it on the table.
Her contract.
"You want freedom?" he said quietly. "Then take it."
She blinked.
"Sign here, and I'll release you from the marriage early. No press. No scandal. No more control."
Her fingers hovered over the paper.
Then she stepped away.
"Why now?"
Luchen's jaw clenched. "Because watching you leave every night—watching you disappear into a world I can't touch—is driving me mad. And I'd rather set you free than lose you piece by piece."
The words hit her like rain after drought.
But instead of signing, she pushed the paper back toward him.
"No," she said softly. "Not like this."
He looked up sharply.
"I'm not running away again," she said. "And you're not using a contract to decide how close we get."
Yuyan walked toward the door, her voice calm but final.
"You want me to stay, Luchen? Then fight for me like a man, not a CEO."
And she left him standing there—richer than most men in the country, but poorer in every way that mattered.
—
That night, a new photo trended online.
Yuyan stepping out of the hotel, her hand clasped firmly in Zhao Luchen's.
And for once, the caption didn't mention the wrong twin.
It simply read:
> The wife who walked away—and the man who followed.
---