close

Han's POV

The first thing I heard this morning was a ping from my assistant:

"Tyler's arrived. Training begins today."

I tilted back in my office chair, watching the files on my desk flutter as the AC hissed through the room. Rejected offers. One after another. Each paper a polite middle finger to my vision. Each name a mask for cowardice or something worse—sabotage.

I clenched my jaw and, without a word, swept them off my desk with a sharp flick of my arm. Papers scattered across the floor like fallen soldiers. My knuckles whitened as I reached for the steaming mug of coffee beside me. Took a sip. It was bitter. Almost as bitter as I felt.

Why?

Why are they all rejecting me?

The blueprint for my next innovation—the one that could change everything—had been presented to them on a silver platter. Clean data. A flawless proposal. Years of my life in a folder, and they had the audacity to say no.

But I knew better.

This wasn't about the innovation.

This was personal.

Someone was blocking me.

I could feel it in the way doors were closing before I even knocked. In the silence after calls. In the way my team looked away when I asked why.

No one said it out loud, but I knew.

Wayne.

The name made my blood pressure spike just thinking about it. He wasn't just bitter he was powerful. And he was using every damn connection to burn my bridges before I could cross them. I couldn't prove it, not yet. But I would. And when I did—

Ding.

A soft notification blinked onto my laptop screen.

My eyes shifted, and then I froze.

An email. From Vincorp International.

What…?

I opened it. Scanned. Then read it again. And again.

It was a yes.

Not just a yes—an enthusiastic yes.

They weren't just willing to invest. They wanted exclusivity. They were ready to throw numbers at me that made the rejections from the other companies look like bad jokes. And they weren't just bigger than those companies—they owned half of them.

I let out a low whistle.

"Wow…"

Even the people I originally pitched to couldn't hold a candle to Vincorp's reach. This? This was bigger than I had ever dreamed.

Ding.

Another message.

Azazel:

"Don't mess this up. I pulled a lot of strings to make this happen. Please."

I stared at her message for a beat. My hands hovered over the keyboard, searching for words—but nothing felt like enough. So instead, I hit her with a simple thumbs up emoji.

Because words couldn't capture what I felt right now.

Power.

Gratitude.

Vengeance simmering beneath the surface.

I leaned back in my chair, lips curling into a slow, dangerous smirk.

It's time for Phase Two.

From the moment I saw Vincorp's name on the screen, everything else faded into static.

My office, the towering skyline outside my window, the crushed heap of rejected proposals on the floor—all of it blurred behind the white-hot spotlight that was this offer. A yes. A prestigious yes. A dream yes. My pulse thudded in my ears like war drums.

This was it. This was the turning point.

I didn't wait. I didn't overthink. I'm a man of efficiency, and I know how this world works—strike while the iron is on fire. I shot Azazel a quick "on my way," adjusted my suit in the mirror, and bolted. No driver. I wanted the wheel, the speed, the momentum under my control.

The drive to Vincorp HQ felt like a blur. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe the universe decided to give me a damn break for once. Whatever it was, I was standing at their pristine glass entrance within hours, my heartbeat dancing in sync with the skyscraper's blinking lights.

"I'm HanSora," I said crisply to the woman at the desk. "CEO of HanTech. I have a meeting."

Her eyes flicked up, widened slightly, and she stood faster than I expected.

"Yes, Mr. Han. We've been expecting you."

Good. I like being expected.

Security escorted me through chrome elevators and endless marble hallways, each more polished than the last. We finally stopped at the top floor, and the guard gestured toward a sleek black door that screamed power lives here.

"He's in a meeting," the assistant whispered. "Please wait here."

I nodded, lowering myself into the plush seat across from the door. My fingers drummed a slow rhythm against my thigh, the only betrayal of the storm in my chest. I should have been focused on my pitch. Mentally rehearsing, refining, sharpening it like a blade. But I couldn't concentrate.

Not when he walked out of the elevator.

I heard the footsteps first—confident, deliberate, echoing against the walls like a countdown to some cosmic joke. And then I looked up.

And time decided to drag its feet.

Wayne.

Of course it's him.

Tall. Clean-shaven. That same devastatingly poised expression that made people either fall to their knees or out of his way. His suit was tailored like it had been sewn onto his skin, dark charcoal with a blood-red tie—a color that used to drive me crazy.

My stomach dropped before my heart could even process what the hell was happening.

No. No way.

This couldn't be real.

Vincorp's CEO… was Wayne?

I leaned forward slightly, almost to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. But they weren't. He saw me.

And that goddamn smirk.

Like he'd been expecting this. Like this wasn't just business—it was fate putting me in the most humiliating chokehold of all time.

I forced my face into ice. "Didn't know you were into investments now."

He stepped closer, hands tucked coolly in his pockets. "Didn't know you were still making tech that could make the world burn."

"Someone has to," I snapped, quicker than I meant to. My voice—low, tight, sharp enough to cut glass—still wavered beneath the surface.

He tilted his head. "Still dramatic, I see."

Still the same game. Still the same man who kissed me like a promise and left like an afterthought. I felt seventeen again for a moment—young, in love, and watching him walk away. Only this time, I wasn't a boy with a crush. I was the CEO of HanTech. And I was here to win.

"You're the CEO of Vincorp now?" I asked, keeping my tone level.

"I've always been on the board," he replied smoothly. "Just took the reins a few months ago. We're shifting our focus. Looking for bold ideas. Dangerous ones." He paused, eyes skimming over me like he could still read every part of me like a blueprint. "You always did have a talent for that."

I didn't know if it was a compliment or a threat. Maybe both. That was Wayne—always feeding you sugar laced with venom.

"I came here for a deal, not nostalgia," I said finally, standing to my full height.

His eyes flicked to my lips, just for a second. Or maybe I imagined it. "Then come in," he said, opening the door. "Let's talk business."

The room was a cathedral of power—tall glass windows, shadowed corners, a single long table that felt more like a war council than a meeting room. He gestured for me to sit at one end, while he took the other.

And we began.

The pitch rolled out of me like water, sharp and practiced, honed to perfection. I talked numbers, projections, scalability. I showed him the future—my future. He didn't interrupt. Didn't flinch. Just watched me with those piercing eyes that used to make me forget how to breathe.

When I finished, there was a silence that stretched between us like a held breath.

Then he leaned back, fingers steepled. "It's good."

Of course it is.

"I want in," he continued. "But there'll be conditions."

My brow arched. "Such as?"

"We work closely. My team and yours. Weekly syncs. High transparency." He paused, eyes gleaming. "You'll have to report directly to me."

Oh, you smug bastard.

He was doing it on purpose. Testing me. Teasing me. Trying to see if I'd crack. If the past would pull me under. But I'm not the same boy he left behind.

I leaned forward, mirroring him. "I don't care who I report to—as long as the funding flows and you stay the hell out of my way."

He laughed. Laughed.

"I missed that fire, Han."

I clenched my fists under the table.

This man. This deal. This game.

Azazel's warning echoed in my head—Don't mess this up.

And I wouldn't. I'd take his money. I'd take his resources. And I'd succeed so hard, he'd wish he never let me walk out of that boardroom.

But beneath all that…

My heart was still thumping.

Because no matter how much I tried to hate him—my body remembered.

My pride might deny it, but my blood? My blood always knew the name Wayne.

And now, we were playing on the same board again.

But this time?

I wasn't here to lose.