Every time I had a cold war with my uncle, I was the one who gave in first.
This time should have been no different.
For a month, I had been planning how to make peace with Shen Yili again. I even rehearsed my apology on the way to the bar after finding out where he was. I already knew the look he would give me—that restrained, old-fashioned, infuriatingly calm expression he always wore whenever I crossed one of his invisible lines. Then he would sigh, pretend to resist, and eventually let me cling to him again.
That was how it had always been.
I had a condition no one around me really understood. When it flared up, my skin felt restless, feverish, desperate for contact. It was like a thousand tiny sparks racing beneath the surface, impossible to soothe. And every single time it happened, I went to Shen Yili.
He never approved.
He always acted like my behavior was outrageous, improper, beneath us both. He would tell me to keep my distance, remind me that on paper he was my uncle, remind me that he had responsibilities, standards, a reputation. But in the end, he could never quite harden his heart when I looked pitiful enough. He always let me press close. Let me lean against him. Let me steal warmth from his body while he sat there stiff and resigned, half-indulgent, half-tormented.
Then afterward, he would sulk.
And afterward, I would coax him.
That was our rhythm.
But this time he had been truly angry. He avoided me for an entire month. No calls answered. No messages returned. No chance for me to corner him.
So when I finally pushed open the private room door at that bar, I was ready to lower my head and soften my voice.
Instead, I saw Shen Yili with his arm around another woman.
She looked pure and sweet in that practiced way some women do. He was leaning back on the couch with one hand twined in her hair, smiling with an ease I had never once seen when I was draped across him. Someone beside him checked their phone and said, “She’s still stuck on Silver Street. Traffic’s terrible. No way she gets here for at least another hour.”
I froze.
There really had been traffic. I had switched cars halfway and taken a different route to get there faster. Shen Yili didn’t know I’d done that.
I also didn’t know he’d put a tracker in my car.
If this had happened a month ago, I would have been secretly thrilled. I would have thought, He cares. He’s possessive. He watches me because I matter.
But in that moment, with another woman in his arms, all I could feel was nausea.
The woman took a sip of liquor and fed it into his mouth with a kiss. Shen Yili held her by the waist and kissed her back so thoroughly that the room burst into whistles and laughter.
“Damn, Brother Shen’s been holding back for too long.”
“That little canary of yours can even handle him?”
“They always say the more proper a man looks in public, the filthier he is in private.”
Someone laughed harder. “So tell us, why don’t you just get with Chloe Prescott already? Everybody knows she’s obsessed with you. Why keep picking fights with her every couple of weeks just so you can sneak off and find your little side piece? Sounds exhausting.”
The kiss ended. The woman slumped against Shen Yili’s chest, flushed and breathless.
He stroked her hair and said lazily, “Chloe’s too stubborn. If I really crossed a line with her, she’d cling to me for life. On paper we’re uncle and niece. If my grandfather found out anything happened between us, he’d skin me alive. And if that scandal ruined my shot at taking over the Caldwell family? Not worth it.”
Not worth it.
My fingers curled into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms.
One of his friends snorted. “So after you inherit the family, then what? You’ll marry her?”
Shen Yili actually thought about it.
For two whole seconds, he thought about it.
Then he shook his head.
“She’s not marriage material,” he said. “Too childish. Too clingy.”
Something inside me snapped with a clean, invisible sound.
My eyes burned. Tears slipped down before I could stop them.
Then he added, with a warning glance around the room, “Chloe’s coming to apologize tonight. Keep your mouths shut. If any of you let something slip, don’t blame me for what happens next.”
The room answered with easy laughter and promises.
I nearly shoved the door open.
I nearly stormed in and smashed a bottle over his head.
But before I could move, my vision blurred—and then lines of floating text appeared in front of me.
Even though you’re the villainess, I actually feel bad for you right now.
Old men really are the best at pretending. He had me fooled too.
The heroine is about to enter the story. Don’t fight her. Girls help girls. Let’s send this disgusting man to hell.
You guys don’t understand the villainess at all. She’s obviously about to go find herself a younger guy.
I stared at the words in stunned silence.
The room behind the door roared with laughter again. Shen Yili’s voice drifted through the crack like poison.
I slowly lowered my hand.
Then I turned around and walked out.