The wail of approaching sirens sliced through the night, a soundtrack to the chaos in the gasoline-soaked living room. Fu Jinyan’s weight was heavy in Su Luo’s arms, his blood a shocking, hot stain spreading across her pristine white dress. It seeped into the fabric, warm against her skin. For one suspended heartbeat, the world fell away. All she could see was his face, pale and strained, his dark eyes fixed on hers, filled with a desperate, unfamiliar vulnerability. He had thrown himself in front of a blade for her. For *her*. The man who had looked at her with nothing but contempt for three years, who had called her a venomous gold-digger, had shielded her with his own body. A tremor went through her. A tiny, fragile crack appeared in the wall of ice she had built around her heart. It was a flicker of warmth, a ghost of the girl who had once loved this man so fiercely it hurt to breathe. Her fingers, stained with his blood, tightened their grip on his suit jacket almost involuntarily. Then, just as quickly as it came, the crack froze over, thicker and more impenetrable than before. Her eyes, which had softened for a split second, sharpened into points of glacial ice. Three years. Three years of being his blind, disposable wife. Three years of his cold indifference, of his blatant affection for Lin Yao in her very presence. He had served her divorce papers on their anniversary. He had believed every lie, every crocodile tear from the woman now trembling on the floor. This act didn't erase that. It was not a gesture of love. It was a debt repaid. Nothing more. Her expression shuttered, becoming a mask of utter detachment. She carefully, almost clinically, lowered Fu Jinyan to the floor, propping his head on a scattered cushion as if he were a stranger she was giving first aid to. There were no tears, no panicked cries. Only cold, terrifying efficiency. “Luo Luo…” he rasped, his hand weakly reaching for hers. The pain from the stab wound was a white-hot fire in his side, but the coldness in her eyes hurt infinitely more. He needed to see something, anything—concern, fear, even pity. But he found nothing. It was like staring into a beautiful, empty void. Just then, the doors burst open. Her personal assistant, Ye Cheng, rushed in, followed by a team of black-suited security guards and paramedics with a stretcher. They moved with military precision. “Miss Su, are you alright?” Ye Cheng asked, his eyes sweeping over her blood-stained dress before landing on the bleeding man on the floor and the catatonic Lin Yao. Su Luo didn’t even glance at her own state. Her voice was crisp, clear, and devoid of any emotion. “Handle him,” she commanded, nodding towards the paramedics and Fu Jinyan. Then, her gaze shifted to Lin Yao, who was now being hauled to her feet by two guards. “And take *her*. The police are outside. Attempted murder, arson, kidnapping. Make sure the charges stick. I want her to wish she had died in this fire.” The sheer venom in her tone made even the seasoned guards flinch. Lin Yao’s eyes widened in terror, a choked sob escaping her lips. “Jinyan… Jinyan, save me! I love you!” Fu Jinyan struggled to speak, his gaze still locked on Su Luo. He watched as she deliberately pulled her hand away from his grasp. The rejection was a physical blow. “Mr. Fu,” she said, her voice dropping to a formal, chilling whisper that was for his ears alone. “You took a knife for me. Consider the debt from the fire three years ago repaid in full. We are even.” *Mr. Fu.* The name echoed in his skull. Not Jinyan. Not her husband. Mr. Fu. It created a chasm between them wider and deeper than any ocean. He felt the world tilting as the paramedics lifted him onto the stretcher, his last conscious sight being Su Luo turning her back on him without a second glance. *** At the hospital, the sterile white corridor buzzed with frantic energy. Fu Jinyan had been rushed into the emergency operating room. His loyal assistant, Chen Kang, paced back and forth, his face pale with worry. He saw Su Luo standing near the window at the far end of the hall, perfectly poised. Ye Cheng was beside her, handing her a sterile wipe. She calmly began cleaning Fu Jinyan's blood from her hands, her movements methodical, as if she were wiping away a minor spill. Chen Kang rushed over. “Mrs. Fu! President Fu… he’s in surgery. The doctors said the knife was deep… is he…?” Su Luo didn't even look up from her task. “I am no longer Mrs. Fu,” she stated, her voice as sharp and clean as a shard of glass. “The divorce was finalized this morning. You may address me as Ms. Su.” Chen Kang froze, his words dying in his throat. He had seen what happened. He knew President Fu had taken a knife for her. How could she be this cold? How could she talk about divorce at a time like this? Ignoring his stunned silence, she turned to Ye Cheng, her tone shifting from icy dismissal to that of a CEO issuing directives. “Has our legal team been contacted?” “Yes, Miss. They are filing the official complaint against Lin Yao and have a team ready to ensure she receives the maximum sentence.” “Good.” Su Luo dropped the bloodied wipe into a bin. “Next. I want the Fu Corporation’s stock shorted at market open. Use the secondary fund. I want to see their valuation drop by at least thirty percent by noon. Also, I want a complete list of every executive, every manager, and every household staff member who helped Lin Yao deceive Fu Jinyan and humiliate me over the past three years. I want their careers, their reputations, and their futures dismantled piece by piece. Is that clear?” “Crystal clear, Miss Su,” Ye Cheng replied, already typing furiously into his tablet. Chen Kang listened, his blood running cold. This wasn't the blind, gentle, and submissive Mrs. Fu he knew. This was a ruthless queen, a predator who had been silently watching, waiting to strike. Every word was a declaration of war against the man currently fighting for his life in the operating room—the man who had just saved hers. *** Hours later, Fu Jinyan awoke to the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor. The first thing he felt was a searing pain in his abdomen. The second was a profound, aching emptiness. “Luo Luo?” he croaked, his throat raw. Chen Kang, who had been dozing in a chair, shot to his feet. “President Fu! You’re awake! The surgery was a success. The doctor said you were lucky.” Fu Jinyan’s eyes darted around the empty VIP room. “Where is she? Where is Su Luo?” he demanded, his voice strained with urgency as he tried to push himself up. Chen Kang hesitated, his expression pained. “Sir… you need to rest.” “Where is she?!” Fu Jinyan roared, the effort sending a spasm of agony through his body. “She… she left, sir,” Chen Kang finally admitted, unable to meet his boss’s desperate gaze. Left. The word was a punch to his gut, harder than any knife. “Did she… did she ask about me? Did she say when she would be back?” He was grasping at straws, searching for any sliver of evidence that she cared. Chen Kang swallowed hard. “All she said was that… that your debt was repaid.” He paused, bracing himself. “And, sir… she gave orders. To her people. To… to launch a full-scale financial attack on the Fu Corporation.” Fu Jinyan stared at him, his mind refusing to process the words. She hadn’t waited to see if he would live or die. She had simply… left. And declared war. The sacrifice he made, the grand, life-risking gesture that he thought would surely break through her anger, had been dismissed as a mere transaction. A debt settled. He finally understood. This crushing, helpless feeling of being utterly invisible to the one person whose attention you craved… this was what he had put her through for three years. Every single day. The monitor beside his bed began to beep erratically. Suddenly, Ye Cheng, Su Luo’s assistant, appeared at the door. He didn't enter, simply stood at the threshold, his expression impassive. “Mr. Fu,” he said, his voice polite but glacial. “Ms. Su asked me to deliver a message.” Fu Jinyan’s head snapped up, a wild, desperate hope igniting in his chest. “What is it? What did she say?” Ye Cheng looked down at his tablet, then met Fu Jinyan's gaze without a flicker of sympathy. “She said, ‘Tell him this is just the beginning. The Fu family will pay for every tear I shed, one billion dollars at a time.’ Also…” Ye Cheng paused, letting the silence stretch, his lips curling into a slight, cold smile. “An international press release was just issued by the House of Laurent from Geneva.” Fu Jinyan’s breath hitched. The House of Laurent. The almost mythical financial dynasty that held the global economy in its palm. “They have officially announced the return of their long-lost sole heiress,” Ye Cheng stated, his voice ringing with triumph. “The woman the world will now know as… Laurent Su Luo.”

Chapter 19: Moved, Yet Cold