Chapter 13: Foundations of Power and Obsession’s Embrace
The days after Lin Yuhan walked out of Shen Mochen's office passed like controlled fire—quiet, sharp, and consuming everything in its path.
There were no calls from Mochen. No follow-ups. Just silence.
Which meant one thing: Mochen was rattled.
And Yuhan? He was already three steps ahead.
He poured his full attention into Project Phoenix, the backbone of his plan to elevate Genesis Innovations into a company that wouldn't just survive—but dominate. He had no interest in being a whisper in the tech world anymore. He was aiming to become a thunderclap.
From his quiet estate on the edge of Yenagoa, Yuhan worked tirelessly, buried in video calls and strategy meetings. But these weren't with corporate giants or legacy firms. He sought out the bold, unpolished geniuses—AI engineers, sustainable-tech prodigies, inventors still running prototypes from their kitchens. He remembered them from his previous life. They were tomorrow's legends, and he was buying in early.
His new team—handpicked for their discretion and skill—watched him with a growing sense of awe. It wasn't just his intelligence that shocked them, but how eerily accurate he was at predicting trends, shifts, and tech revolutions.
> "I don't rely on emotion," he reminded them once, while signing off on a high-risk joint venture, "I rely on patterns. The future doesn't surprise people who plan for it."
Everything he touched turned deliberate. Every meeting, every partnership, every press release was a calculated strike. Lin Yuhan wasn't just building wealth—he was building legacy.
And he was doing it right under Shen Mochen's nose.
---
Mochen, for his part, had not been the same since their last meeting.
He followed Yuhan's demands—at least, the public ones. He issued a stiff, diplomatic statement praising Yuhan's "sharp vision and leadership" during the Genesis acquisition. He even whispered into a few media ears, gently protecting Yuhan's reputation.
But inside?
He was unraveling.
> "She died, Mochen. In a car crash you and your accomplice arranged."
That one sentence had carved itself into his mind. It played on loop during meetings, during workouts, during sleep—if he ever actually managed to sleep. He'd never believed in superstition. But Lin Yuhan's eyes that day... they hadn't been filled with revenge.
They'd been filled with certainty.
He started digging. Quietly. He bribed investigators to find anything—past accidents, identity inconsistencies, fragments of an answer. Nothing matched. And that terrified him more than if something had.
When obsession replaced reason, he started sending gifts.
Not flashy or romantic—personal.
A rare orchid hybrid from Myanmar. An out-of-print book on quantum mechanics. A signed sketch of a coastal island off Brittany Yuhan once mentioned offhandedly.
He sent them all.
No messages. Just the name:
> "Shen Mochen."
He never got a reply.
Instead, he sat in his blacked-out SUV a few nights a week, parked half a block from Yuhan's estate, watching for a glimpse of him through the gates. He never admitted what he wanted. A wave? A confrontation? A second chance?
He didn't know.
He just needed to see him.
And the worst part?
He wasn't sure if he wanted to hurt him anymore… or have him.
---
Meanwhile, Li Meili was falling apart.
Her world—the curated, spotless world of soft-lens glamour and social climbing—had collapsed.
The board members at the charity she'd once chaired were now her enemies. Friends stopped returning calls. Anonymous exposés about her financial misconduct were spreading across gossip sites. Her name had become mud.
Her family—once her backup—offered only cold, quiet shame. Her mother refused to speak to her. Her father cut off her allowance. Even her childhood nanny avoided eye contact now.
She couldn't even cry properly anymore. Her tears dried before they fell. Her hands trembled when she tried to put on eyeliner, and she didn't recognize her reflection in the mirror.
And when desperation peaked, it twisted.
She began reaching out to people she once mocked—underground names, former criminals she had gossiped about in high-end salons. She didn't use full sentences. Just vague, terrified phrases:
> "I need a problem handled." "She's ruining everything. I can't let it happen."
Li Meili was spiraling. Fast.
And Lin Yuhan already knew.
His contacts sent him short reports.
> She's calling old associates. Her father doesn't know. She asked about untraceable sedatives.
He read the words without emotion.
Then he folded the paper in half and whispered,
> "You're digging your own grave, Meili. I'll make sure you finish the job."
---
The storm hadn't hit yet.
But the wind had changed.
Lin Yuhan was no longer reclaiming his life. He was rebuilding it better.
Shen Mochen wasn't in control anymore. He was watching from the outside, trying to break back in.
And Li Meili was on the verge of self-destruction, while Yuhan watched from the hill she once pushed him off.
The board was set.
And Lin Yuhan?
> He never played a game he hadn't already won.