A Guilty Man's Mind

The walk from the Mansion's entrance to his grandmother’s study had never felt longer.

Daniel Han adjusted his collar for the third time, palms clammy, heart in a full-blown sprint. With every step echoing down the hall like a death sentence, one thought plagued him:

She told her.

Jia Li had gone to Madam Han and laid everything bare—how he’d staged the party, tried to humiliate her, orchestrated a fake public proposal… all of it. He could already hear the funeral dirge playing in his head.

By the time he reached the heavy mahogany doors, he was practically composing his last will.

He knocked. A firm voice called out, “Enter.”

The doors opened to reveal Madam Han seated at her desk, calm and unreadable as ever. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, painting golden streaks across the carpet. A porcelain teacup steamed gently by her elbow.

Daniel stepped inside like a man entering the lion’s den.

“You called for me, Grandma?” he said, trying not to visibly gulp.