Chapter 20:The Trojan Offering

The bodyguard slid his phone across the mahogany desk, its screen displaying a grid of failed call attempts. "We've tried his number eight times. It's dead. Our men swept every corridor of Jiang City Central Hospital—no sign of Daniel Lockwood."

Li Fujiang picked up the device, his jade ring clinking against the case. He pressed redial and held the phone to his ear like a loaded gun. The automated operator's voice dripped into the silence: "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable—"

"Prepare the Gulfstream," Li said, tossing the phone onto a stack of Dong'er's medical reports. "I'll extract answers from Alistair Lockwood myself."

As the bodyguard reached the study door, Li's gaze snagged on a surveillance still of Daniel emerging from Rentong Medical College—a silver-haired woman blurred in the background. "Wait. What's Lockwood Holdings' primary revenue stream?"

The guard hesitated. "Assistant Zhou might know. He's from Jiang City."

Zhou Shaoming appeared within thirty seconds, his knock trembling like his voice. "You... requested me, Mr. Li?"

"Lockwood Holdings." Li rotated a crystal paperweight carved with the Fujiang Group logo. "What do they peddle?"

Zhou's posture snapped rigid. "Real estate development, sir! Their CEO Sebastian Lockwood and I—" He swallowed a gulp of air. "We were classmates at Cambridge. If Fujiang requires an introduction..."

Li's thumb stilled on the paperweight. Outside, rain began tattooing the bulletproof windows.

"Contact Sebastian. Now."

"But sir," the bodyguard interjected, "Daniel's the one who—"

"Daniel's a stray dog howling at shadows." Li stood, his shadow stretching across a framed photo of Dong'er building sandcastles. "Corporate doors open for blood heirs, not bastards."

Zhou's fingers danced across his phone. The call connected to a chorus of clinking champagne flutes.

"Shaoming?" Sebastian's voice oozed through the speaker. "Did my birthday yacht finally sink?"

"Mr. Lockwood! Fujiang Group proposes—"

A glass shattered. "Fujiang? Li Fujiang's Fujiang?"

Lightning flashed as Zhou whispered, "Yes."

Sebastian's breath hitched—the sound of a man glimpsing salvation. "Tell your CEO I'll clear my schedule."

Zhou Shaoming had indeed been Sebastian Lockwood's classmate.

At Cambridge, Sebastian had been the heir apparent—effortlessly charismatic, trailed by sycophants like Zhou, who fetched his coffee and laughed at his jokes a half-beat too loud. If Fujiang Group partnered with Lockwood Holdings, Zhou's decade of groveling would finally pay dividends.

He strode out of Li's office adjusting his tie, the phantom weight of power already straightening his spine. Li's clipped nod had said it all—Make this deal, and you'll no longer be the man who fetches conference room pastries.

Zhou's mind raced. Of course Li wanted Sebastian, the golden child with Lockwood blood coursing through his veins. Daniel—the adopted son, the corporate ghost haunting board meetings—wasn't even a footnote in Zhou's calculations.

Back at his desk, Zhou dialed Sebastian's private number, the digits seared into his memory from years of desperate networking.

"Shaoming?" Sebastian's voice dripped with the languid amusement of a man halfway through his third martini. "Did your stapler finally unionize?"

Zhou ignored the jab. "Sebastian! My CEO wants to discuss a partnership. Fujiang Group and Lockwood Holdings—imagine the possibilities!"

Ice cubes clinked. A woman's laughter died mid-peal.

"Fujiang Group?" Sebastian's tone sharpened like a scalpel. "Li Fujiang's Fujiang?"

Zhou straightened his cuffs. "The very same."

A glass shattered. "Christ. Where do we start?"

Sebastian Lockwood shot up from his office chair, nearly knocking over a half-empty whiskey tumbler. "Shaoming, you'd better not be fucking with me."

Zhou Shaoming smirked at the panic in Sebastian's voice. "Would I risk my new position as Executive Assistant to Fujiang Group's CEO for a prank?"

A stunned laugh crackled through the line. "Christ, Ming! You've been crawling through corporate trenches and never bothered to mention it?"

The compliment curdled as realization struck. Sebastian's diamond-cuffed wrist trembled. "Wait—Li Fujiang wants me?"

"Mr. Li's visiting Jiang City tomorrow. Dinner at the Skyview Club—his security detail's already sweeping the venue."

"Don't be absurd!" Sebastian barked, pacing past floor-to-ceiling windows that framed Lockwood Tower's glittering sprawl. "I'll charter a jet to the capital! Wouldn't want Mr. Li slumming it in our—"

"Nonsense." Zhou cut him off, savoring the power shift. "He insists on touring your waterfront development. Rumor says Fujiang might… invest."

Sebastian's breathing hitched—the sound of a man glimpsing salvation. "Eight o'clock. I'll have the chefs flown in from Kyoto."

The line died. Sebastian stared at his reflection in the polished mahogany desk—a man who'd just been handed the keys to Olympus.

Lockwood Mansion - 18:07

Alistair Lockwood nearly shattered his vintage cognac glass. "Li Fujiang? The 'Dragon of Longjiang' Li Fujiang?"

"Zhou's a spineless climber, but even he wouldn't fabricate this." Sebastian straightened his father's skewed Van Gogh replica. "This could triple our valuation overnight."

Alistair's cane thudded against the marble. "Bring Daniel . The bastard still has uses."

"Father—"

"His medical connections. Zhang Zizhen's apprentice was seen with him." Alistair's smile turned venomous. "Let the adopted mongrel fetch his miracle cure… then we'll see whose name graces the deal."

Alistair Lockwood's cane tapped a triumphant rhythm against the marble foyer. "Sebastian, this opportunity proves your worth. That adopted gutter rat Daniel won't even be fit to shine your shoes."

Sebastian adjusted his Brioni cufflinks, smirking at his reflection in the entryway mirror. "Let the bastard tag along. Every masterpiece needs its splotch of mud to highlight its brilliance."

Yang Rongjuan (杨蓉娟) sniffed, her Louboutins clicking toward the door. "Must we parade that stain in front of Li Fujiang? He'll think we've lost our standards."

Six PM sharp. The Lockwoods clustered at the mansion's wrought-iron gates like vultures awaiting carrion. Four bodyguards flanked Daniel, their shadows swallowing his lean frame.

Yang's scarlet nails stabbed the air. "Look at your brother, Daniel. Sebastian's securing deals with provincial tycoons while you scrounge for scraps. One misstep tonight, and I'll—"

Daniel met her glare without blinking. The scent of night-blooming jasmine drifted through the courtyard, masking the tension.

He'd agreed to this charade for two reasons:

Li Fujiang never associated with Sebastian in either lifetime.

The security footage he'd leaked to Li's investigators now burned a digital trail straight to Lockwood Group's door.

Let them preen. Let them scheme.

Tonight, the viper they'd nurtured would bite.

The Lockwoods waited beneath the chandelier's brittle glow, the grandfather clock ticking louder with each passing minute.

Sebastian's phone shattered the silence.

"New brake lines failed," Zhou Shaoming's voice crackled. "Mr. Li sends apologies—we'll visit if time permits."

Sebastian's Rolex gleamed as he forced a laugh. "No trouble at all! Jiang City's roads are treacherous this time of year."

Alistair Lockwood's cane thumped the stairs. "To the study. Now."

As guards marched Daniel upstairs, Yang Rongjuan's shrill voice sliced through the hall:

"—signature forged, assets transferred—"

Daniel froze. The word "divorce" slithered through the banisters like venom.

"Move," growled a guard, shoving him toward the darkened corridor.

Downstairs - 18:47

Yang perched on the Chesterfield sofa, triumph staining her Botox-smoothed face. "Wu Yan caved. The divorce papers are ours by dawn—whether Daniel signs or not."

Alistair's jade ring clinked against his whiskey glass. "And the girl? The Vanderbilt heiress?"

"Gone. Back to the capital with her tail between her legs." Yang's smile sharpened. "All her Jiang City holdings now legally require Daniel's nonexistent approval."

Sebastian frowned. "But if Elena's gone—"

"Precisely." Alistair swirled his drink. "No witness. No protest. Just... quiet reassignment of assets."

Second Floor - Locked Bedroom

Daniel pressed his ear to the oak door. The guards' muffled laughter mingled with Yang's rising pitch:

"—that adopted leech's final service to this family—"

Moonlight bled through barred windows, illuminating the medical report hidden beneath his mattress—Li Fujiang's son: chronic belladonna poisoning.

He smiled.

Let them play puppeteers with phantom divorces.

Li Fujiang's delayed arrival wasn't car trouble—it was a predator circling its true prey.

Sebastian Lockwood paced the marble foyer, his polished Oxfords clicking a restless rhythm. "Mother, what if Daniel refuses to sign? Even forged documents have risks—"

Yang Rongjuan snapped her compact shut with a metallic click. "Since when do mongrels refuse their masters?" Her scarlet lips twisted in contempt. "Marital affairs have always been decided by family. That ingrate will kneel and sign, or learn how deep our generosity truly runs."

The grandfather clock tolled eight as Alistair Lockwood strode through the oak doors, a manila folder tucked beneath his arm. Sebastian lunged forward. "Father—?"

Yang snatched the documents, her manicured nails leaving crescent dents in the paper. "The divorce agreement. Elena Vanderbilt's entire Jiang City portfolio—condos, tech parks, the docks—all hinge on that bastard's signature."

Sebastian's throat tightened. "But Daniel would never—"

"Tonight, he will." Alistair's cane cracked against the floor like a gunshot. "Guards! Bring the whelp downstairs."

Second Floor Hallway

The bodyguards' shadows swallowed Daniel whole as they dragged him past family portraits—each frame filled with Lockwoods who shared his eyes but never his blood. Yang's shrill voice slithered up the staircase:

"—burn the adoption papers once we've drained his signature dry—"

Daniel's knuckles whitened. Through the stained-glass window, moonlight glinted on a black sedan idling beyond the gates—Li Fujiang's driver smoking by the hood.

Right on schedule.

Downstairs Parlor

Yang thrust a Montblanc pen at Daniel. "Sign."

The divorce agreement sprawled across the mahogany table—Elena's looping signature already bleeding through the last page. Daniel traced the asset list: Vanderbilt Biotech, Harbor Logistics, Golden Bay Resorts...

Alistair leaned in, his cologne reeking of decayed privilege. "Your final act as a Lockwood. Do it cleanly."

Daniel met Sebastian's hungry gaze. "And if I refuse?"

Yang's laugh was a scalpel on glass. "That clinic where you volunteer? The orphans you feed? Such fragile things..."

The pen trembled in his grip—or seemed to. Beyond the gates, car doors slammed.

Three heavy thuds.

Li Fujiang's voice boomed through the foyer before the butler could announce him:

"Lockwoods! We have a ledger to balance."