Late morning light slanted through the conference‑room blinds as Lin Anran and Gu Jinci reviewed the aftermath of Bai Yue's arrest. Files lay open on the table—asset freezes, board resolutions, police affidavits—and for a moment, hope fluttered in their chests. Their son, Su Jian'an, played with wooden puzzles at Anran's side, blissfully unaware of the corporate coup they'd orchestrated.
Then Anran's phone buzzed—a private line, untraceable. She glanced at the number, heart tightening.
She answered. “Hello?"
A cold, clipped voice spoke: “Lin Anran. I have your son."
Anran stiffened, eyes wide. “What—who is this?"
“You took something that isn't yours," the voice continued. “Return the drive to Bai Yue, or you'll never see him again."
Anran dropped the phone onto the table. “He—he can'
