The room fell into chaos.
Flashes erupted like gunfire. Reporters screamed questions. Security moved toward Zhou Linwei.
But none of it registered for Tang Yueru.
All she saw was Lu Shenyan.
Frozen.
Like a man caught between the lie he'd mastered and the truth he couldn't bury anymore.
"What did he mean?" Yueru whispered, barely audible even to herself.
Shenyan didn't answer.
Didn't look at her.
Didn't even move.
Zhou's voice rang out again, cruel and amused. "Why don't you tell her about Lu Meilin? Or should I?"
Yueru blinked.
A name. One name.
Lu Meilin.
Not hers.
Not his mother.
Not anyone she had ever heard before.
The silence that followed was louder than any accusation.
---
Minutes later, the press conference was shut down.
Security escorted reporters out. PR tried to salvage the fallout. Online, the video clip was already trending.
#ContractBride
#LuCorporationLies
#WhoIsLuMeilin
Inside the elevator, Shenyan said nothing.
Yueru stood beside him, her heart like glass in a hurricane.
"Tell me," she said when they reached the penthouse.
Still, he said nothing.
"I deserve to know."
He finally turned.
"She was my fiancée."
Yueru froze.
"She died."
---
They stood in the vast silence of their apartment. The city's skyline blazing outside, indifferent to their unraveling world.
"Lu Meilin and I were engaged for nearly two years," he said, his voice low. Strained. "It was arranged. But it worked."
Yueru swallowed. "And then?"
"She was in an accident. Five days before the wedding. She never woke up."
Silence.
"She looked like you."
Yueru's chest tightened.
"What?"
"Not exactly," he said. "But enough. At first, I thought it was just coincidence. Then… I saw you in that café that day. And something inside me stopped."
"You chose me because I reminded you of her?" Yueru asked. "That's why you offered the contract?"
He didn't deny it.
At first, she laughed.
A hollow, bitter sound.
"All this time," she said, stepping back. "Every touch. Every moment. Was it her you were holding?"
"No." His voice cracked. "At first—maybe. But not now. Not anymore."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I was ashamed."
The words landed heavy between them.
---
Yueru turned away.
Everything—everything—suddenly felt borrowed.
"I'm not her," she said quietly.
"I know."
"I'm not a ghost. I bleed."
"I know."
She faced him again, eyes burning. "Do you love me?"
His lips parted. But no sound came.
And that was the answer.
---
That night, Tang Yueru left.
Not in anger.
Not in dramatic tears.
Just in silence.
With her dignity, her pain, and the card Zhou Linwei had once given her still burning in her coat pocket.
---