The man’s shouting draws a crowd. I yank him from the counter and hiss in his ear, “Get lost.” Then I shove him.

  He collapses like a bad actor mid-death scene. “She attacked me!” he shrieks, stabbing the air toward me as he scrambles for his phone.

  The girl with him stands back, her lips curling in disgust. Yet, she doesn't leave.

  Neither can we. The yellow dress’s tag is already torn off—we’re trapped until we pay.

  Minutes later, a policeman rushes up the escalator. He sweep the scene, then strides toward the man, who’s already pointing at us.

  “They assaulted me! In a luxury store! In central Beijing! Where’s the law?”

  He gestures to his companion and the sales girl. “They saw everything. They’ll testify.”

  A ghost of a smile flickers across the sales assistant’s face. She saw me arrive—in uniform.

  The policeman's eyes burns with righteous anger as he marches toward me. Then recognition strikes. The color drains from his face. His posture softens. His expression melts into a nervous smile.

  "Madam Xu, my apologies for the disturbance." He swallows. "This... person doesn't know his place. I'll take him away."

  I don't recognize him. This is Xicheng District—I haven't realized my reach extended even here.

  "What are you waiting for? Arrest her!" The man is still bellowing.

  "Shut your mouth!" The policeman's voice lashes out like a whip.

  The man freezes, stunned.

  "What's his name?" I ask, my voice ice.

  The officer hesitates. Finally: "Zhong Lai."

  Of course. That explains the vague familiarity.

  “Book him. Picking quarrels. Provoking trouble.” I glance at the gaudy girl. “And solicitation.”

  The officer wavers. Then a petite woman in a suit dress rushes toward us—delicate features, graceful bearing, desperation in her eyes.

  She bows to Xialai. "Chairman." Careful not to say his name aloud. Then to me: "Madam Xu. Forgive my delay."

  She presses a card into my hand: Rita Luo, Government Relations Director, Me-Tiny Corporation.

  Her voice drops. “This is my boss’s son. Please—for the company’s sake, for my boss—let him off.”

  I weigh the cost. I’ve already made an enemy of Yuan Ma. I really don't want to make one more. But the damage is likely already done.

  These pampered princelings care about nothing more than face. And Jun Lai, Zhong’s father, is infamous for his vindictiveness over the pettiest slights.

  I glance at the counter. The sales assistant has already packed the dresses into a shopping bag. Rita catches my meaning instantly.

  “Of course.” She nods. “Me-Tiny will cover everything you’ve purchased today.”

  "Voluntarily," I say. "No one's forcing you."

  Xialai's expression flickers. Rita is almost certainly the one he called to settle the bill. But that is dangerous territory—especially after the confrontation with Zhong Lai. Cameras are everywhere. If she pays in front of the crowd, it could be damning—for him, for me.

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  The bill exceeds 60,000 yuan. Enough to cross the criminal threshold for bribery.

  But if she pays of her own accord—in exchange for not pressing charges against their crown prince—that's different.

  “Do it.” I grab the shopping bags and walk away without looking back.

  … …

  I’ve had private dinners with men before—but never in their homes, never with their wives watching.

  And yet here I am—inside Xialai’s mansion—Kaili Gu seats directly across from me, her gaze steady, appraising.

  She doesn't mind my presence at all—Just another evening, another woman her husband brings home. Routine.

  Kaili is a renowned lawyer, still running her firm with precision and pride. Now, she studies me with the detached scrutiny of a cross-examiner sizing up a witness—dissecting, evaluating, calculating. Her eyes don’t accuse. They measure.

  Xialai recounts the Lane Crawford incident with relish, his voice animated as he describes how I put Zhong Lai in his place. His eyes glitter with something like admiration.

  Kaili laughs—a low, knowing sound. "Now I see why my husband craves you." Her smile sharpens. "But why are you interested in him?"

  Her directness catches me off guard. Heat rises to my cheeks. I open my mouth, but no words come.

  “Don’t scare her,” Xialai says, teasing, but protective.

  “She needs to trap Xian Xu,” He leans forward slightly. “He must believe she’s a serious investor.”

  "That's easy." Kaili's smile widens, and something shifts in her expression—a glint of playfulness, of power.

  She picks up her phone and dials. The call connects instantly.

  A man's voice, smooth and deferential, filters through. "Madam Gu. How have you been?"

  "Brother Xu." Her voice transforms—silky, warm, each syllable stretched just enough to sound intimate, inviting. "I'm coming to Shanghai tomorrow with a friend. Would you be so kind as to receive us?"

  "Anything for you, sister." The man's eagerness is palpable, his tone practically glowing. He’s savoring the chance to serve the FRC chairman’s wife.

  Party officials must keep their distance. Their wives? They move freely—reaching people and pockets their husbands can’t.

  “My friend is an investor from Singapore. Freshly moved to GIC from MAS. Please introduce her to the Rubian Republic’s investment environment.”

  Kaili constructs my cover effortlessly, her mind a precision instrument. GIC—one of the largest sovereign wealth fund in the world. MAS—the Monetary Authority of Singapore. A bureaucrat newly appointed to Singapore's flagship state-owned investment firm. The identity is perfect: prestigious enough to command respect, vague enough to excuse any missteps with jargon or local knowledge.

  "Certainly. My pleasure." Xian Xu's voice is rich with confidence. "Trust me, no one knows the Republic's investment landscape better than I do."

  His arrogance drips through the phone. It won't be long. Soon he'll be blindsided by the news of Antz's IPO cancellation, his carefully constructed world crumbling around him.

  “Wonderful. My secretary will send the flight details. See you tomorrow.” Kaili ends the call.

  She turns to me, her smile slow, deliberate. “Now, let’s have some dessert.”

  … …

  I am the dessert.

  She leads me to the bathroom. Xialai’s absence is conspicuous. He’s waiting in the playroom, she says. Whatever that is. The words hang heavy with implications.

  The shower is brisk. Kaili's hands move over me with practiced ease—soap gliding across my skin, her fingers thorough, almost clinical. She touches every inch of me, cleaning me with the same care one might use preparing a toy—the kind that will enter her.

  Then she lets me do the same. My hands careful, reverent. The intimacy of it both thrilling and unsettling.

  But that's it. She doesn't linger, doesn't indulge. Her husband is waiting, and she's eager to move forward.

  We dry ourselves with towels so soft they feel unreal, like something out of a dream. Then she takes my hand and leads me down the hall to a small dressing room.

  It's lined with sleek black wardrobes. She opens them one by one, revealing a curated collection that takes my breath away.

  Leather corsets with intricate lacing hang beside latex bodysuits that gleam under the soft lighting, their surfaces almost liquid. Thigh-high boots with impossibly high heels stand at attention, their polished leather reflecting like dark mirrors.

  She pulls out a harness—elegant straps of supple leather connected by silver hardware—and holds it against my body, her head tilting as she considers the fit. Then a collar, studded and refined, more like jewelry than restraint. Her fingers brush my throat as she measures.

  Silk blindfolds in deep crimson and midnight black are folded neatly in drawers. Riding crops and delicate floggers rest in velvet-lined cases, their craftsmanship exquisite—tools of control disguised as art.

  “Choose what speaks to you,” Kaili says softly. Her eyes drink in my awe. She pauses, then asks, "First time?"

  I nod.

  “Don’t worry.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “You’ll love it. It’s like opening a new world.”

  Her eyes grow distant, her fingers trailing absently over the fabrics, as if remembering something—or someone. The first time her inner dominatrix was awakened, perhaps, by a woman even more powerful than she is.

  And suddenly, I know who awakened her.

  The woman who taught Kaili Gu to wield power like silk.

  The woman I’m becoming.