Obsession

The Master Games

Self-Inflicted Humiliation

The circular walk-in closet, bathed in a palette of cool blacks and whites, shimmered with a metallic silver glow. A faint, elegant fragrance lingered in the air as rows of haute couture, evening gowns, designer heels, and clutches were displayed like museum exhibits. The bright lights reflected off the floor-to-ceiling glass and mirrors, creating a surreal, kaleidoscopic effect.

Sienna took a moment to process. "Oh, I almost forgot. Your family literally owns the mines. You’re in the same industry."

Her college roommate, Beatrice, had always been a straight-A student—diligent, hardworking, and perpetually busy with double majors. Sienna used to think Beatrice was playing the "poor student working to change her fate" trope, only to find out she was a legitimate heiress to a tech empire. She’d been a billionaire since her first breath.

Since her family was in the same field as Hengrong Electronics, they were direct competitors.

Just two days ago, Hengrong’s reputation had tanked due to the executive scandal. Sales plummeted, and their stock price was under immense pressure. It had taken the industry's top PR firm working overnight to stem the bleeding.

Yet, in less than twenty-four hours, the wind had shifted again.

A new anonymous tip—complete with recordings and a paper trail—had been delivered to the media, internal affairs, and the tax bureau. The tens of thousands of words detailed years of systemic corruption within Hengrong’s upper management.

The internet went into a meltdown.

The investigation hadn't even officially concluded, but the media’s first-hand leaks had already gone viral. Still reeling from the previous scandal, Hengrong’s liquidity was paper-thin. Their stock price cratered during the US trading hours, hitting the limit-down mark. Overnight, over two billion dollars of market value simply evaporated.

"Normally, as a competitor, my family's firm would have just taken a few shots at them," Beatrice mused over the phone. "But before my uncle could even kick them while they were down, Hengrong handed over the keys to their own prison cells." She laughed, finding the absurdity of it all genuinely funny. "With these charges, those executives will be rotting in jail until they die. It’s total self-destruction; not even a god could save them now."

She added as an afterthought, "Then again, the Hensleys definitely deserve it."

Sienna lowered her gaze, letting out a very soft, ghost of a laugh.

She pulled a qipao from the rack and held it up against herself in the mirror. "Since you’re the one benefiting from their downfall, why overthink it?" she asked casually.

The plain white satin was as smooth as flowing water, accented by intricate gemstone buttons at the collar.

Red peonies in bloom, hidden patterns woven like a web.

"Because nothing about this is simple," Beatrice insisted. "Think about it—a family business that’s stood for decades has a massive web of influence. How could a 'nobody' take them down overnight? Three days of disaster after disaster... they collapsed too fast. Without massive manpower, resources, and funding, you couldn't gather this kind of lethal evidence."

"Plus, whoever did this knows exactly how to manipulate the public," Beatrice continued. "They started with workplace harassment to get the internet riled up, then dropped the financial crimes as fuel for the fire. It’s impossible to suppress. Hengrong must have offended a real monster. This isn't a slap on the wrist; this is an execution."

Sienna’s brow furrowed. Her hand froze on the button of her dress as she finally pulled up the news on her phone.

The leaks were staggering—far more terrifying than what she had gathered. The recordings weren't the ones she had sent out; they were more incriminating. There were full ledger books and transaction records of middle and upper management—evidence of embezzlement, money laundering, and misappropriation of funds.

This...

This wasn't her.

These key pieces of evidence were far more lethal than her own, containing documents she hadn't even been able to touch.

Sienna bit her lip, her smile fading into a look of deep, swirling calculation.

"I just find it strange," Beatrice added. "The biggest winner here is actually Apex Core, that subsidiary of Thorne Capital. The moment Hengrong buckled, Apex launched a new line of tech that perfectly replaces Hengrong’s entire market share."

Beatrice analyzed it mindlessly. "But R&D takes years. They must have started that project even before Sebastian Thorne bought the company. It’s too convenient, don't you think? Unless Thorne Capital can see the future."

Right. It’s too convenient. How could everything in the South go so smoothly?

Sienna’s slender back went rigid. A chill crept through her veins, inch by inch.

Sebastian Thorne had known all along.

He might have known from the very beginning.

From the start, Thorne Capital didn't want Hengrong’s technology. They wanted Hengrong delisted. They wanted the market share.

Sebastian hadn't called her out last night because he was "indulging" her. He was simply watching the chaos from the sidelines, letting her use his name to make a scene while using her—his blunt, amateur blade—as a convenient distraction. He didn't unmask her because he found it amusing, or perhaps, in a rare moment of sentiment, he decided to help her along.

He was just using her momentum to finish his own game.

From start to finish, between him and her, it was nothing but mutual exploitation.

The South-Marina Club was a relic of colonial elegance—the former Navy Headquarters turned into an ultra-exclusive lounge. Deep wood floors, black-and-white photography, and Victorian decor gave it a heavy, turn-of-the-century weight.

When Sebastian entered, the room went quiet for a heartbeat before the group began to stand.

A young man at the far end of the table looked up impatiently, then froze. He shoved his date aside and stood with a rakish grin. "Well, if it isn't the man of the hour. Everyone’s looking for you, Sebastian. I thought you’d skipped town."

He stepped aside to offer the head seat. "Where were you playing last night?"

Nearby, Jaxson Miller, smelling of expensive gin, straightened his posture instinctively. "Why didn't you make it to the Southside gala? Those old fossils were whispering all night about your absence."

Sebastian lit a cigarette, ignoring the greeting. He gave Jaxson a sharp, impatient kick to the shin. "The task I gave you. Is it done?"

"You can trust me, man," Jaxson laughed, rubbing his leg. "The mistress the Hensley CEO was keeping on the side? She’s a loose cannon. I made sure she knew exactly how much she stood to gain by talking to the feds. She’s currently detailing every penny of their money laundering. As for the loose lips at the office? They’ve been handled. No one will trace—"

Before he could finish, the heavy doors to the suite swung open.

"I heard Mr. Thorne was in the building. I hope you don't mind me inviting myself to the party."

The voice preceded the man. Harrison Lane entered, holding a young woman at his side. He wore a fake smile, but his words were laced with venom. "You're a hard man to find, Sebastian. Getting a meeting with you is harder than getting into heaven."

The atmosphere turned brittle and strange.

Sebastian took a sip of his drink, a faint, cold smile on his lips. He didn't say yes, and he didn't say no.

Jaxson Miller rubbed his nose, trying to play the diplomat. "Don't be like that, Harrison. If you're here, have a drink. Don't just stand in the doorway."

The Thornes and the Lanes had been family friends for generations, but recently, Thorne Capital and Lane Global had been at each other's throats in the Southern markets. Harrison was a man of little talent and even less temper, perpetually overshadowed by his uncle—the Lane family’s brilliant adopted son. Most people in the circle looked down on him, only tolerating him for the sake of family business.

He hadn't come for small talk. He came for blood. Everyone knew Harrison’s project team in the South had been played like a fiddle by Sebastian. He had dumped millions into Hengrong Electronics, only to have the whole company go up in flames. It was more than a loss; it was a public humiliation.

The group in the room watched with bated breath.

But like the sharks they were, they acted as if they didn't notice the blood in the water. They kept the conversation light, the drinks flowing.

Throughout it all, Sebastian remained cold and detached.

Harrison’s temper was fraying. He’d been trying to reach Sebastian for three days, only to be met with a mechanical "Mr. Thorne is unavailable" from his secretary. Now that he’d cornered him, Sebastian wouldn't even look him in the eye. He looked at the girl on his arm. "Go. Pour Mr. Thorne a drink."

The young woman smoothed her skirt and walked over with a practiced smile. "Mr. Thorne, a toast."

Sebastian didn't even glance at her. His wrist rested on his knee as he rhythmically tapped the mahogany tabletop with his fingers.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound wasn't loud, but it grated on the nerves like a ticking bomb.

The girl’s arm began to ache from holding the glass. She didn't dare speak, and she didn't dare pull back. She just stood there, her smile frozen.

Sebastian finally let out a lazy laugh and leaned back. "I don't drink with people I don't know."

The "unknown" was clearly aimed at Harrison.

"Then I’ll drink to your health," the girl said, tilting her head back to finish the wine. In this world, you couldn't afford to be sensitive. She had her orders, and she had her own ambitions. Sebastian Thorne had the kind of face that made women fall in love at first sight—a mix of dark intensity and a smile that felt like a secret meant just for you.

She leaned in to refill the glass, her collar dipping low as she intentionally brushed against his shoulder.

The moment she touched him, Sebastian’s brow furrowed. He pressed his lit cigarette against her collarbone.

"Sss—"

The glowing ember burned a dark, ugly circle into her skin.

"Get away from me. Did you not hear me the first time?" Sebastian looked up, his eyes a void of black. His voice was low, chilled with a lethal indifference that made everyone in the room go cold.

He had never been known for his gallantry.

But then, this was a self-inflicted humiliation. The woman shivered, biting her lip to keep from crying out. She stood paralyzed, unsure of how to retreat.

Harrison ignored her pained expression, choosing to sneer instead. "I didn't realize you were so lacking in chivalry, Sebastian."

"I have a low tolerance for filth," Sebastian said, catching the girl’s chin and forcing her to face him. He studied her for a few cruel seconds before letting out a dry snort. "Using a piece of trash like this to flatter me? Harrison, you’re insulting my taste."

She was actually quite beautiful, her tear-filled eyes giving her a tragic, vulnerable charm. But seeing her in that qipao only made him think of Sienna. And compared to Sienna, this woman was a cheap imitation—lifeless and dull.

His mood was officially ruined. Sebastian began to meticulously wipe his hand clean.

Harrison felt like he’d been slapped.

Hengrong and the Hensleys were small fry, and their prison sentences were well-earned. But the CEO had been his dog. Seeing his dog beaten to death in public was a direct hit to his ego. Normally, in business, you’d just pivot and find the next profit. But after making several concessions to Sebastian, Harrison had received nothing in return. Sebastian’s attitude suggested he was willing to burn the Hensleys to the ground just to make a woman smile.

"Naturally, common beauty wouldn't catch your eye. I heard you have a real gem at your place. It seems you’ve lost your mind over her." Harrison’s anger flared into open mockery. "No wonder she doesn't know the rules. I suppose when you have Sebastian Thorne backing you, you think you can just walk into the South and flip the table."

"But even a dog has a master," Harrison continued. "If she keeps acting this way, aren't you afraid—"

He didn't finish. A flash of silver cut through the air.

A fruit knife from the platter flew across the table, piercing an apple and burying itself deep into the mahogany right in front of Harrison’s chest. The apple split into four pieces, the blade’s cold edge reflecting Harrison’s pale, shifting face.

Sebastian looked down, his eyes as sharp as a hawk’s, a dark, murderous energy radiating from him. "She doesn't need to know the rules." He traced the blade with his finger before pulling it out of the table and casually spearing a piece of fruit. "Because no one but me is allowed to teach them to her."

The room went tomb-silent.

Harrison looked ready to flip the table and storm out, but he didn't have the guts to actually break with Sebastian.

Jaxson Miller sat frozen, his eyes narrowed as he watched the scene. He didn't intervene.

In their world, it was considered low-class to scream or threaten someone physically. There were a thousand cleaner ways to destroy a man. Making it a scene was beneath them.

Except, it seemed, when it came to her. The "toy for his amusement" from a few nights ago had suddenly become off-limits.

Only Jaxson Miller dared to break the tension with a forced laugh. "Is anyone else thirsty? The fruit is served. Let's eat."

Fruit? Sebastian looked like he wanted to carve the life out of Harrison, one piece at a time.

"I’ve made concessions because I wanted our families to remain on good terms. Don't you think you're overstepping today?" Harrison’s face was twisted with rage. "My family isn't clean, but do you really think the Thornes are? I know exactly how much your Uncle Victor was involved in that Southern project. I’m sure you know it better than I do."

"Are you threatening me with him?" Sebastian asked, swirling the wine in his glass.

"It’s not a threat. It’s a friendly warning," Harrison said, his voice regaining its confidence as he dragged out the words. "At the end of the day, the Hensleys are just dogs to me. But your Uncle Victor? He’s blood. Surely you wouldn't send your own uncle to a prison cell over this?"

Jaxson Miller’s eyebrow twitched. He cursed Harrison’s stupidity in his head.

Uncle Victor? Really? The Thorne family had been at war with itself for decades. If Sebastian caught Victor in a trap, prison would be a mercy. Sebastian didn't do "family sentiment." He got results. Talking to him about blood ties was like talking to an executioner about the feelings of the livestock.

"If someone makes a mistake, they pay the price. I have no problem with that," Sebastian said, his lips curving into a subtle, dangerous smile. "If an elder causes trouble, why should I, a mere junior, be expected to clean up his mess?"

The sheer coldness in his voice felt like a winter wind, biting deep into the bone.

Harrison’s heart skipped a beat. "You... you wouldn't actually turn on your own flesh and blood?"

"Family?" Sebastian let out a soft laugh that sounded more like a growl. "Harrison, you’ve got it wrong. I only talk about family with the people who cross me—because I’m the one who decides if they have a future at all."

He slammed a thick manila envelope onto the table.

"What is this?" Harrison asked, his bravado wavering. "Hush money?"

He flipped through the first few pages. His casual attitude vanished. His face went gray as he continued to read. The further he went, the more he looked like he was going to vomit.

As if to mock him, Sebastian tossed a second envelope onto the table.

Before he was halfway through the second file, Harrison slammed the papers down and bolted to his feet.

"Your Uncle Julian has been cleaning up your messes since he took over the Lane family. You should be grateful he cares more about 'family' than I do," Sebastian said, his fingers toyed with his prayer beads. "Otherwise, the one being fed to the wolves today wouldn't be the Hensleys. It would be you."

His tone was calm, almost conversational. Only the faces of the people around the table changed.

Jaxson Miller took a bite of fruit, not needing to look inside the envelopes to know what was there. He thought Harrison was an i***t—it was no wonder Julian Lane had kept him under his thumb for so long. If Harrison had any brains, he’d be trying to figure out how to distance himself from the "human trash" that was the Hensley family. If this fire spread to the Lanes, Sebastian wouldn't hesitate to burn them out.

The suite was silent.

Harrison, who had come in looking for an apology, was now just trying to find a way out. "We’re all brothers here. I was just... offering a friendly heads-up."

He used to think his Uncle Julian was the scariest man alive because he couldn't read him. Julian would smile while he cut your throat. But Sebastian Thorne was a different kind of monster. Sebastian didn't even care enough to smile. He just crushed you like an ant.

He had no choice but to bow.

"I’ve been a bit high-strung lately. My words were... out of line," Harrison said. He tried to keep his voice steady, but his face was ashen. "Since you aren't concerned, I clearly overthought it."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, his smile turning sharp and biting. "It seems your uncle hasn't taught you how to speak properly yet."

Harrison felt like he was choking on his own blood. There was no one in the city more abrasive than Sebastian Thorne. A man who sent his stepmother to an asylum and his uncle to prison—a man who lived for revenge. You didn't make an enemy of a man like that unless you were ready to die.

Harrison gritted his teeth, forcing a smile to maintain a shred of dignity. "I overstepped tonight. I hope you won't hold it against me. Consider the Hensley matter a gift—a little something to help your lady smile."

"Fair enough," Sebastian said. He reached out and gave Harrison a friendly pat on the shoulder. "But Harrison... don't let there be a next time."

The gesture looked casual, but the force behind it drove Harrison down. The pressure in his shoulder was agonizing, a slow, grinding pain that made his entire arm go numb.

Harrison couldn't even stand up straight.