Chapter 231: Before the Storm

*Runze’s POV*

I wake before the alarm to a cold, empty bed.

The room is wrapped in gray shadow. Bael’s pillow holds only the faintest indentation. I stare at it for a moment before sitting up, dragging my robe over my shoulders, and stepping out into the hallway.

The house is already running differently this morning. Staff move past with quiet urgency, heads down, steps clipped. Near the staircase, two security heads speak in low tones into their earpieces. I catch fragments as I pass.

*"...north perimeter holding..."*

*"...media vans arrived before five..."*

I don’t stop to listen. I already know what’s outside those gates.

***

I find Bael in the study.

The doors are slightly ajar, the room lit only by the pale gray of early dawn and the cold blue glow of his screens. He is already mostly dressed, dark trousers, white shirt buttoned to the collar, but his tie lies untouched across the desk beside a cup of coffee that has long gone cold.

I push the door open quietly.

He doesn’t look up immediately. His eyes finish the line he’s reading before they rise to find mine, and in that brief second before his expression settles, I catch it, the shadows beneath his eyes, the faint tension held in his jaw.

He barely slept. Whatever little he managed, it wasn’t enough, and he was already back at his desk before the sun came up.

"Did you sleep?" I ask softly.

"A little."

I don’t push it.

I cross the room and pick up his tie from the desk. My fingers find the familiar motions automatically, looping the silk, smoothing it flat against his chest, adjusting the fold. I keep my eyes fixed on my hands. Focused on getting it right, focused on keeping my breathing even and my face still.

I don’t realize my hands are shaking until Bael’s close over mine.

He stills them gently, his grip warm and completely unhurried, pressing both my hands flat against his chest. Beneath my palms, his heartbeat is slow and steady. Entirely unafraid.

I make myself look up at him.

"Runze." His voice is low. Private. Stripped of everything except the version of him that belongs only to me.

"I’m fine," I say immediately.

He looks at me without answering, which is worse than anything he could say out loud.

He lifts my hands slowly, pressing a deliberate kiss against my knuckles, first one hand, then the other, his eyes staying on my face the entire time.

"Stay away from the news feeds today," he says quietly against my skin.

My throat tightens. "Bael—"

"I mean it."

I swallow. "And if I can’t manage that?"

"Then find something else to look at." He releases my hands and reaches up to straighten his collar with steady, unhurried fingers. "What they’re broadcasting has nothing to do with what’s actually going to happen in that boardroom today."

I press my lips together and say nothing. He already knows I won’t promise, and he already knows I’ll try anyway.

***

Downstairs, Mrs. Wen has the dining room running like a military operation in silk gloves.

Grandmother is already seated at the head of the table, dressed immaculately, her posture flawless. Across from our usual seats, Ling Yue has both hands wrapped around a cup of tea, his phone face-down on the table in a visible effort to leave it alone. He looks like he hasn’t slept much either.

He glances up the moment we step into the room together, his eyes doing a quick sweep of my face before flickering briefly to Bael.

Bael pulls out my chair before taking his own seat beside me. Mrs. Wen appears almost immediately, setting a bowl of warm porridge in front of me with the quiet authority of someone who will not be argued with this morning.

I stare at it.

The faint aroma turns my stomach. I pick up the spoon and turn it slowly in the bowl, watching the steam curl upward, unable to bring myself to take a single bite.

Grandmother’s gaze lands on my hands.

"Eat," she says.

"I don’t think I can, Grandmother."

Her dark eyes move from my untouched bowl back to my face, steady and unyielding.

"My great-grandchild needs breakfast," she says simply. "You will eat."

I pick up the spoon and force down a small, warm mouthful. Then another. Across the table, Ling Yue reaches forward and presses his hand briefly over mine before pulling back.

Grandmother watches until I take a third bite. Then she lifts her teacup, unhurried.

"You look as though you are the one walking into that boardroom," she says.

I lower my eyes.

"You married a man capable of handling exactly this kind of storm," she continues, her voice carrying no false comfort, no empty reassurance. Only fact. "Believe in your husband a little longer."

Beside me, Bael eats in measured, unhurried bites. His phone screen lights up against the table every few minutes. He finishes what is in his mouth, sets down his chopsticks, and only then checks the message.

I watch him from the corner of my eye and feel the knot in my chest pull tighter, and somehow, marginally, loosen at the same time.

***

At seven-thirty, Shen Rui’s voice comes through Bael’s phone, quiet and precise.

*"All board members have arrived. Director Han is already in the main conference suite. Media presence at the corporate entrance is significant."*

Bael stands, buttoning his jacket with practiced ease.

"I’m leaving now," he says into the phone, and ends the call.

I follow him as far as the doors at the main entrance. I already know I can’t step outside... The cameras beyond the gates are waiting for exactly that, something vulnerable, something human to put on the morning broadcast.

At the threshold, Bael turns.

I don’t give myself time to hesitate. I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his neck. His arms come around me immediately, solid and warm and completely steady against the cold draft slipping under the door.

I hold on longer than I mean to.

"Good luck," I whisper.

He pulls back just enough to look down at me, his gray eyes sharp and clear.

"I don’t need luck." A faint smile touches the corner of his mouth, brief, quiet, and entirely for me.

I press my lips together against the sting behind my eyes. "Then come home quickly."

"I will." He leans down and presses a firm, unhurried kiss against my forehead, his hand resting at the back of my neck for one long beat before he lets go. "I’ll see you tonight."

He turns, pushes open the heavy doors, and steps out into the cold morning air.

I move to the glass panel beside the entrance, pressing one hand against the cool surface. At the far end of the driveway, camera flashes erupt through the fog the moment the gates open, strobing white against the gray morning like a storm breaking.

Bael maintains his pace, keeping his eyes off the gates and offering the cameras nothing to work with.

He gets into the car. The door closes. The convoy moves.

I stand at the glass long after the gates have shut, my hand still pressed against the cold surface, watching the empty driveway.

Ling Yue appears beside me without a word, his shoulder pressing gently against mine.

I don’t move away from the glass.

I just wait.