His Treasure

The Ghost billionaire

The Chen mansion took my breath away. Thousands of fairy lights twinkled like captured stars in the towering glass atrium, while ice sculptures of mythical creatures guarded a champagne fountain that could drown a small child. It felt less like a party and more like entering some enchanted castle.

"Remember," Yun hissed as we stepped onto the blood-red carpet,

"we stay together. We greet Luh, make an appearance, and leave before midnight." His fingers dug into my elbow. "And Rho, if you wander off like you did at the Wang's gala-"

"I was twelve!" I protested, adjusting the emerald silk of my Gucci gown.

The memory still made me cringe - I'd gotten lost in their hedge maze for three hours.

Lay smirked, straightening his Tom Ford bowtie. "Relax, Yun. We'll be on our best behavior. Right, little sister?" @

Before I could reply, a hush fell over the entrance hall. Luh Chen

descended the grand staircase like a panther coming down from its kill, his custom Zegna suit clinging to his lean frame. Even from twenty feet away, I could feel the dangerous energy radiating from him.

"Zhi Yun," he purred, extending a hand adorned with a single onyx ring.

"I didn't think you'd actually come."

Yun's jaw tightened as they shook hands. "Wouldn't miss your brother's birthday for the world."

Something unspoken crackled between them - a history I wasn't privy to. Luh's cold gaze slid to me, and I instinctively stepped closer to Lay.

"And this must be the famous Zhi Rho," Luh murmured, taking my hand and brushing his lips against my knuckles. His breath was oddly minty, like he'd been chewing on wintergreen leaves. "Even more beautiful than the rumors."

I snatched my hand back, my skin crawling. "Happy birthday to your brother. Where is he, by the way?"

Luh's smile didn't reach his dead-fish eyes. "Yang prefers to make...an entrance."

As the night wore on, Yun became engrossed in a heated discussion with some Japanese investors, while Lay held court surrounded by giggling socialites. Abandoned near a towering ice sculpture of a dragon, I sipped my champagne and watched the glittering crowd.

That's when I felt it - the

unmistakable sensation of being watched. My eyes darted to the second-floor balcony where a shadow moved between the curtains. For a split second, I caught a glimpse of a man in a black suit, his face obscured by the gloom. Then he was gone.

The gardens called to me with their promise of fresh air. Slipping through a side door, I found myself in a moonlit paradise of cherry blossoms and jasmine. The sweet fragrance was intoxicating after the stifling party.

Then I heard it - the unmistakable sound of a match striking. Turning slowly, I saw him.

A tall figure leaned against a marble pillar, the flare of his match illuminating sharp cheekbones and eyes so dark they seemed to absorb the moonlight. He blew out a slow stream of smoke, watching me with unnerving intensity.

"You must be Zhi Rho," he said, his voice like rough velvet. "I wondered when we'd meet."

My heart stuttered. There was only one person this could be.

Yang Chen.

The ghost billionaire.

And suddenly, I understood why Yun had warned us to stay away.