The Cheng estate had once been a monument to permanence.
White stone pillars.
Iron gates embossed with the family crest.
Landscaped gardens maintained with obsessive precision.
For three decades, the mansion had been less a home and more a declaration:
We endure.
Now, the gates stood open.
Not in welcome.
In surrender.
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I. The Sale
The listing had been discreet at first.
A private auction circulated among ultra-high-net-worth circles. No public advertisement. No glossy magazine spreads. No nostalgic language about legacy.
Just square footage.
Land value.
Prime location.
The estate was no longer a symbol.
It was an asset.
And assets, when unproductive, were liabilities.
Yirai had been the one to sign the initial release forms. Their father refused to attend the valuati
