The candles on her thirtieth birthday cake had barely been blown out when her mother’s critical condition notice landed in her lap.
In an old apartment in the west of the city, her phone buzzed on the wooden coffee table.
“Zhiyi, your mom’s treatment is going to cost a lot…” Her stepmother’s voice mingled with the clatter of mahjong tiles. “All our money’s tied up. Why don’t you try asking President Pei?”
Pei Yan.
The mysterious investor whose image was blurred in financial news was now standing outside the hospital room.
His impeccably tailored suit radiated a sharp authority, and his watch glinted coldly. “Miss Shen, your fate brings me good fortune. Why don’t we get married?”
I stared at the metallic sheen of his cuff links. “President Pei, aren’t you afraid I’ll bring bad luck?”
He suddenly leaned closer, cedar scent enveloping me as he spoke. “The bad luck you’ll bring is exactly the kind of trash I’ve been wanting to get rid of.”
