The dawn sun filtered through woven bamboo shades in the villa's study, casting mottled patterns across Sebastian Qiao's desk. He sat behind the polished mahogany surface, shoulders squared and expression taut. Stacks of corporate filings and letters addressed to the Qiao Survivor Therapy Foundation lay in neat piles. Yet none demanded more urgent attention than the thin envelope stamped **“URGENT: Regulatory Inquiry"** that sat before him.
Zora Su stood at the window, hands folded in her lap. She cradled their son, now brushing the ribbon of a picture book with small fingers. He hummed the opening line of her childhood lullaby—one of the first songs she'd regained—and Zora pressed her cheek to his hair, drawing strength from his melody.
Sebastian cleared his throat. “They've opened an i
