CHAPTER 10: DEBTS OF THE FATHER

The weight of his father's legacy felt like a physical pressure on Liam's chest.

He stood in the sterile, white bedroom of the Feng family mansion in the affluent Azure Hills district, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and decay. His father, the formidable patriarch of the Feng Family Trust, was a shrunken figure in the large bed, tethered to life by a web of tubes and the quiet beeping of a heart monitor.

"Did you see her?" his father's voice was a dry rasp, the words a struggle.

"Yes, Father," Liam said, keeping his own voice steady. "I saw Elara. I gave her the message."

A flicker of something—fear, or maybe relief—crossed the old man's face. "Good. Good boy." He coughed, a wracking sound that shook his frail body. "This... this Phoenix... it was a mistake. A deal with the devil. Liana... she saw the truth too late."

Liam felt a familiar surge of resentment. It was easy to have regrets on your deathbed. It was harder to live with the consequences of those mistakes. The Feng Trust, once a proud competitor to Huo Enterprises, was now little more than a vassal state, its finances inextricably linked to Sterling Dynamics and the project. His father's "deal with the devil" had saved their company from ruin a decade ago, at the cost of their honor. And now, the bill was coming due.

"Kian knows I met with her," Liam said. "The visit was his idea. He's testing my loyalty."

"Kian is his father's son, but he has his mother's heart," the old man wheezed. "He walks a razor's edge. He thinks he can control the fire, but it will consume him. Just like it consumed Liana."

Liam looked away, towards the window overlooking the manicured gardens. He was walking his own razor's edge. To Kian, he was a useful, pliable ally, a childhood friend who could be used to monitor Elara. To Elara, he was a potential lifeline, a fellow prisoner. In truth, he was a double agent in a war he hadn't chosen, driven by the desperate hope of untangling his family from this mess before it collapsed and took them all down.

His phone vibrated. A secure message. Not from Julian's network. This was from a different ghost.

It was a summons.

An hour later, he was in a private suite at the exclusive Silas Club downtown, a place where the city's real power brokers made deals over hundred-year-old scotch. The woman sitting across from him was the reason his father was afraid to die.

Seraphina Huo.

She looked like a porcelain doll, flawless and cold, dressed in a sharp, white pantsuit. She held a flute of champagne, but wasn't drinking it.

"Liam," she said, her voice a silken threat. "You look troubled. Is your father's health declining?"

"He's stable," Liam lied. Showing weakness to Seraphina was like bleeding in shark-infested waters.

"Good. Because the Feng Trust's quarterly contribution to the project is due next week. We wouldn't want any... disruptions." She set her glass down, the click of it on the marble table unnaturally loud. "I trust your visit with our little ballerina was productive."

Liam's blood ran cold. She knew. Of course she knew. Her surveillance network was separate from Kian's, and likely more invasive.

"It was pleasant," he said, forcing a casual tone. "We reminisced. Kian seemed to think it would help with her... acclimation."

Seraphina smiled, a slow, predatory curving of her lips. "Kian has grown sentimental. He sees a ghost and thinks he can save her. It's a weakness. A weakness I may need help exploiting."

This was it. The moment he had dreaded. She was going to try and recruit him.

"My family's loyalty is to the project's success," he said carefully, using the neutral language of a corporate partner.

"Is it?" she purred, leaning forward. "Or is it to my brother? He's the one guaranteeing your family's loans, isn't he? He holds your leash." She let that hang in the air for a moment.

"I'm offering you a new one. A better one. My brother wants to contain the Phoenix. I want to let it fly. Imagine the possibilities, Liam. Real power. Not just the illusion of it."

She was offering him a way out from under Kian's thumb, but the price would be his soul. He would be trading one master for another, one who was far more ruthless.

"My only concern," Liam said, choosing his words with the care of a man walking through a minefield, "is ensuring the Feng Trust survives this... transition. My father's health is fragile. My priority must be stability."

It was a non-committal answer, an attempt to play for time.

Seraphina studied him, her eyes like chips of ice. She seemed to see right through him, to the fear and ambition warring within him.

"Stability is a worthy goal," she said finally, leaning back. "But remember, Liam. In the world we operate in, stability is rarely found by standing still. It's found by choosing the winning side. Before the game is over."

She stood up, the meeting concluded. "I'll be in touch."

Liam was left alone in the silent, opulent room, the scent of her perfume hanging in the air like a poisonous flower. He had survived. For now.

But he was no longer just a double agent between Kian and Elara. A third player had entered his game. Seraphina wasn't just testing his loyalty. She was demanding it.

He pulled out his phone and typed a message to a number he prayed was still secure. A message for Detective Zheng.

S is making a move. She's trying to consolidate power against K. The gala is the deadline. Be ready.

He hit send. He had just betrayed Seraphina's confidence to a cop, passed information from Elara's captor to her potential savior, and lied to both siblings.

He was juggling knives, and they were all about to come down at once.