Empire of Desire: An Alpha’s Financial Reign - Chapter 39

The Night Before the Wedding – In Ni Jia’s Room

The heavy curtains in Ni Jia’s room were tightly drawn, casting the space into deep shadow and muffling the noise of the bustling world outside. No sunlight crept in; no hint of celebration could penetrate the silent gloom that had settled like a shroud over the room. Only the occasional clink of glass disturbed the stillness—an empty wine bottle being set down on the floor, another unscrewed and tipped toward trembling lips.

Ni Jia sat curled up in the corner near her bed, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around a half-empty bottle. The sharp tang of alcohol filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of her perfume.

Her eyes, red and swollen, shimmered with unshed tears. Trails of mascara had already carved dark lines down her cheeks. The silence, far from comforting, only amplified the chaos in her heart.

She had seen the news—no, the whole world had seen it.

Han Zaijing was getting married.

The announcement had hit like a thunderclap. The headlines didn’t just whisper; they roared across social media and news networks: Han Zaijing, SSSS-level Alpha and heir to the TK Empire, to wed Jiang Wan, the beloved daughter of the Jiang conglomerate. The image of the two, smiling hand in hand in their wedding attire, was everywhere. It was the kind of perfect, fairytale romance the public adored.
But to Ni Jia, it was a nightmare come to life.

Zaijing no longer had to hide her identity—she was finally stepping into the spotlight alongside the woman everyone expected her to marry. A match made in heaven, people said. A symbol of power and harmony between two great families. But to Ni Jia, the announcement felt like a knife carving into her chest. Her breath came in ragged gulps, not from the wine, but from the memories crashing over her like waves.

She remembered every shared glance, every whispered promise, every stolen moment of tenderness. She remembered the late nights studying together in university, the evenings she walked her home, the warmth in her voice when she called her name. Now, all of it seemed like a cruel illusion, a chapter torn out and discarded from a story she’d thought would be hers.

Her phone screen, lying on the floor beside her, still displayed the wedding announcement. She couldn’t bear to look at it again, yet she couldn’t look away. She wanted to smash it against the wall, but she was too tired to move.

Outside her door, Ni Kuang stood with his fists clenched and jaw tight. He had been pacing for over an hour, helplessly listening to his sister’s sobs from behind the door. His heart ached. Ni Jia had always been strong—resilient, proud—but tonight, she sounded like a broken child. Seeing her in this state made him feel a helpless fury that had nowhere to go. He wanted to storm into that lavish wedding and drag Han Zaijing out by the collar.

But he also knew his sister. She wouldn’t want a scene. She wouldn’t want pity.

Ni Kuang made a decision. He pulled out his phone and called the one person he knew could get through to her—Han Zaijing.

When the call connected, his voice was low and cold. “She’s drinking herself to death. Come fix this.”

Zaijing didn’t hesitate. Within twenty minutes, she was standing at Ni Jia’s door, her heart pounding. She pushed it open gently and was immediately struck by the smell of wine and the dim, suffocating atmosphere. The sight before her froze her in place.

Ni Jia sat slumped against the wall, bottle still in hand, her head tilted slightly to one side. Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of the door, and for a moment, she stared blankly. Then her lips parted.
“…Zaijing?” Her voice was weak, hoarse. “Is it… you?”

“I’m here,” Zaijing said softly, kneeling beside her.
Ni Jia blinked, disbelief flashing across her face. She reached out and touched Zaijing’s cheek, as if to confirm she was real. And then, without warning, she launched herself into Zaijing’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

“I thought… I thought I was dreaming,” she whispered. “You’re really here…”

Zaijing held her tightly, guilt knotting in her chest. She stroked Ni Jia’s hair, whispering her name, feeling the trembling in her body, the sheer weight of her pain.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Ni Jia clung to her, her grip almost desperate. “Why? Why did it have to be like this? Was I not enough? Was I too stubborn? Too proud?” Her voice cracked. “I said terrible things when we argued… but I never stopped loving you. Never.”

Tears streamed down her face as her confession poured out. “I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. And now I have to see you in a wedding dress… smiling at someone else. I feel like I’m dying, Zaijing. It hurts so much. I don’t know how to breathe anymore.”

Zaijing closed her eyes, her own throat tightening. “You weren’t too proud. You weren’t too much. You were everything. But we live in a world where love isn’t always enough.”
Ni Jia looked up, her eyes wild and wet. “Then why did you come here?”

Zaijing hesitated, then said softly, “Because I couldn’t bear to think of you hurting. I needed to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m not okay,” Ni Jia replied flatly.
“I know. But you will be. I promise.”

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the ticking of the clock and Ni Jia’s slowing breaths. Slowly, her sobs began to fade, exhaustion overtaking her. She leaned against Zaijing’s shoulder, eyelids heavy.

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the familiar scent of Zaijing’s pheromones, but she finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep.

Zaijing laid her gently on the bed, covering her with a blanket. She lingered for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from Ni Jia’s face. Then she turned and quietly left the room.
In the living room, Ni Kuang waited, arms crossed and jaw clenched.

“She’s asleep,” Zaijing said.

Ni Kuang didn’t speak.
“I know you hate me,” Zaijing added. “You should.”
“Then why are you here?” he asked finally, his voice hard.

Zaijing didn’t flinch. “Because I still care. I always will.”
Ni Kuang’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think that makes it better?”

“No,” Zaijing said, stepping closer. “But I want to help her move forward. She’s not the kind of woman who should be left behind.”
Ni Kuang arched a brow.

“I want to give her a new opportunity,” Zaijing continued. “Something that can help her rebuild. I have political connections. Louis Meng, Lin Zhenguo—they’re forming a new media alliance. I want Ni Jia to be their communications director. A voice that matters.”

“And why would she want to work for you?” Ni Kuang asked coldly.

“She wouldn’t be working for me,” Zaijing replied. “I’m offering her TK Group shares too—under the alias Alexander Wang. That company is now worth billions in influence and data capital. She can reshape narratives, create her own voice, without needing anyone’s approval. She deserves that power.”

Ni Kuang stared at her, stunned. “And what do you want in return?”

“Nothing,” Zaijing said simply. “I’m marrying Jiang Wan. That’s already decided. But Ni Jia doesn’t have to be destroyed because of me. She can have something better.”

For a long time, Ni Kuang said nothing. His emotions swirled—suspicion, grief, bitterness—but beneath it all was a quiet understanding. He could see the truth in Zaijing’s eyes. This wasn’t guilt. It was love, twisted and impossible, but love nonetheless.

“You hurt her,” he said, voice trembling. “But if you really want to help her—then make sure this new path you’re offering doesn’t turn into another betrayal.”
Zaijing nodded solemnly. “I swear it won’t.”

They stood facing each other in the moonlight filtering through the window. Outside, the city was asleep, unaware of the emotional battlefield unfolding in this quiet home. And as the hours passed, the lights dimmed, and the silence deepened.

In Ni Jia’s room, she slept peacefully for the first time in weeks.

And somewhere in her dreams, a new beginning was quietly taking root. One that didn’t depend on Han Zaijing’s love. One that was wholly hers.