Empire of Desire: An Alpha’s Financial Reign - Chapter 37

As night descended and the last glimmers of starlight faded from the sky, Ni Jia slowly made her way down from the rooftop of the school building. Each step she took was as if she were walking through molasses, heavy and deliberate, as though every movement pressed down upon her heart like a weight too great to bear.

The wind at the top of the building was fierce, whipping her long hair into a tangled dance, as if it were trying to blow away the pain rooted deep in her soul. Her eyes, clouded by unshed tears, stared blankly into the distance, refusing to give in even as emotions threatened to break through the dam she’d built around her composure.

She eventually reached the school parking lot, a shadow among the dim lights and parked cars. Wordlessly, she unlocked her car, slipped inside, and shut the door behind her. Instantly, the silence enclosed her like a vacuum. The outside world, with its bustle and noise, seemed impossibly far away. In this tiny space, only the sound of her breathing could be heard, growing ragged with each passing second.

Leaning her head against the headrest, Ni Jia closed her eyes. A single tear traced a line down her cheek, followed by another, and another. She didn’t wipe them away. Letting them fall felt like a silent protest, a mourning for the love she had lost. Her chest ached—an unbearable pressure, as if an invisible hand had reached inside her and gripped her heart tight.

She couldn’t make sense of how everything had changed so quickly. Han Zaijing, once so gentle, attentive, and wholly devoted to her, was now someone else’s pillar of strength. And Jiang Wan—once her trusted sister-in-law, a friend with whom she shared secrets and smiles—was now the wedge that had driven her relationship apart.

Ni Jia was left stranded in a whirlwind of betrayal, heartbreak, and confusion, unable to find the exact moment when the world she knew had begun to shift.

Her mind wandered back to the past—those fleeting but precious memories with Han Zaijing. She could almost feel her warmth again: the rainy afternoons they spent huddled under the same umbrella, the quiet companionship in the library, the way her eyes softened when they met hers.

All of it—once comforting—now cut through her like shards of glass. The recollections, once sweet, had become bitter remnants of a love now gone.

The tears came harder now. She tried to stop them, covering her face with trembling hands, but her efforts were useless. Her sobs were silent, but they reverberated through her entire being. She felt exposed, raw, like every part of her heart had been laid bare and left vulnerable to the cold winds of change.

Her thoughts drifted to Jiang Wan—once so warm and gentle, the very picture of kindness. Ni Jia had admired her, even trusted her. They had shared laughter over coffee, traded advice on trivial things, and comforted each other in difficult times. And now? That same woman stood as a barrier between Ni Jia and the love she had believed was hers.

Why had it come to this? What went wrong? And more importantly, when? Ni Jia needed answers. She couldn’t rest until she uncovered the root of it all. Determination began to take shape within her sorrow. She wiped the tears from her face and straightened in her seat. Her gaze, once full of grief, now reflected steel resolve.

Starting the car, she drove off into the night. There was only one destination in her mind—Jiang Wan’s home. If Jiang Wan had truly taken Han Zaijing from her, then she at least deserved an explanation. She deserved the truth.

Later that evening, Ni Jia stood in the grand living room of the Jiang family mansion. The room was a spectacle of opulence—chandeliers glimmered above, and every piece of decor exuded wealth and power. But to Ni Jia, the space felt cold, detached, and alien.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her hands were clenched into trembling fists at her sides. She stood firm, her eyes locked on the woman who sat across the room.

Jiang Wan, graceful as ever, was dressed in an elegant gown. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her posture radiated quiet nobility. But her expression betrayed her—nervousness flickered in her eyes, subtle but undeniable. She knew why Ni Jia had come. And now, there was no avoiding it.

“Jiang Wan,” Ni Jia began, her voice low but unwavering. “We need to talk.”

Jiang Wan’s fingers tightened around the hem of her dress. She looked up, her expression a blend of guilt and quiet resolve. “Ni Jia, I… I know. But some things are beyond our control.”

Ni Jia’s lips curled into a bitter smile. She stepped forward slowly, each step deliberate and heavy with pain. “Control?” Her voice rose slightly, like a storm gathering strength. “You talk to me about control after stealing Han Zaijing away from me? Don’t give me excuses about pheromone levels or family obligations. You used those as your shield so you could betray me without guilt.”

Jiang Wan’s face paled. Her hands trembled slightly, but she held her ground. “I’m sorry, Ni Jia. I truly am.”

“You don’t know what I had to endure to keep this love. I fought for it. I cherished it. And now you expect me to just walk away?” Ni Jia’s voice cracked with emotion. “Tell me the truth. Forget the excuses. Do you love her?”

Jiang Wan hesitated. Then, softly but clearly, she answered, “Yes. I love her. More than you can imagine. I’ve loved Han Zaijing for longer than I ever admitted—even to myself.”

Ni Jia’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes shimmered, but she held her composure. “And what about me, Jiang Wan? What about our friendship? Our trust?”

“I never meant to hurt you,” Jiang Wan whispered, eyes brimming with tears. “But I want to be happy too. Is that so wrong?”

Ni Jia turned away for a moment, gathering the fragments of her heart. When she turned back, her expression was one of weary clarity. “You may think you’ve won, Jiang Wan. That you’ve claimed love. But real happiness can’t be taken. It’s built—honestly, without betrayal.”

The two women stood in silence, the tension between them sharp as glass. Their eyes met, fierce and sorrowful, the air charged with unspoken emotion. In that moment, love, grief, and betrayal converged. No words could mend what had been broken.

Finally, Jiang Wan sank back onto the sofa, her voice trembling. “Ni Jia… can we not become enemies?”

Ni Jia hesitated. A tear slid down her cheek, but her tone remained steady. “I never wanted us to be enemies. I just wanted justice. And honesty.”

The confrontation ended not with shouting or violence, but with silence—a silence that carried the weight of heartbreak, and the finality of a friendship torn apart.