Chapter 6 - The Ghost of Shengheng
The grand ballroom of the Jiang City International Convention Center was filled with the glitter of high society. The city’s elite—the billionaires, the old-money dynasts, the political heavyweights—were all gathered for the annual Maritime Logistics Gala. Two weeks ago, the name on everyone’s lips had been Ethan, the rising star of the shipping sector.
Tonight, his name was a taboo, a cautionary tale whispered over glasses of vintage champagne.
At 8:00 PM, the massive double doors of the ballroom opened, and a sudden, profound silence fell over the crowd.
Sophia entered.
She wasn't hidden in the back, and she wasn't accompanied by a patronizing husband. She sat in a new, custom-engineered titanium wheelchair that looked more like a piece of modern art than a medical device. She wore an emerald-green velvet evening gown that perfectly matched the sharp, fierce light in her eyes. Around her neck was a simple, flawless diamond collar—the real family heirloom, recovered from the federal evidence locker after Chloe’s arrest.
Behind her walked Leo, tall and striking in a classic black tuxedo, alongside a vanguard of six private security officers whose presence made it clear that Sophia Reed was no longer a victim to be pitied, but the undisputed queen of the northern trade routes.
"Miss Reed," the mayor of Jiang City said, stepping forward with his glass raised, his face split into a sycophantic smile. "A magnificent recovery. The entire city is talking about your brilliant reorganization of the Shengheng Network. We are honored to have you lead the municipal logistics council this year."
"Thank you, Mr. Mayor," Sophia said, her voice smooth and carrying effortlessly across the quiet room. "My family has managed these waters for three generations. It was a temporary mistake to let an amateur handle the wheel, but the course has been corrected."
From the edge of the crowd, a frail, older woman pushed her way through the security line. It was Ethan’s mother, Eleanor Ethan. She was wearing an old, slightly frayed mink coat, her face covered in wrinkles of desperation, her eyes bloodshot.
"Sophia!" Eleanor cried, throwing herself onto her knees in front of the titanium wheelchair, her hands reaching out to grab the hem of Sophia’s velvet gown. "Please! Have mercy! Ethan is a fool, he was blinded by that horrible woman, but he’s your husband! You can't let them send him to the execution grounds! He’ll die in those federal cells! Please, for the sake of our family’s name!"
The crowd gasped, drawing back to watch the spectacle. Two years ago, Eleanor had forced Sophia to sit at the end of the dining table, serving her cold scraps because "a cripple doesn't need a full nutritional profile."
Sophia looked down at the old woman, her expression completely unreadable, her green eyes as cold and deep as the East Sea in winter.
"Eleanor," Sophia said softly, her voice devoid of anger, which made it infinitely more terrifying. "You talk about mercy. When my legs were crushed in that accident, and I begged you to let me use my father’s medical trust to fly a specialist from Germany, do you remember what you told me?"
Eleanor trembled, her jaw shaking as she looked up. "I... I don't..."
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"You told me that a broken vase shouldn't waste money on gold glue," Sophia whispered, leaning forward slightly so only Eleanor could hear the finality in her tone. "You told me to get used to the floor. Well, Eleanor... look around you. I’m no longer on the floor. But your son is about to spend the rest of his life beneath it. Take her away."
With a gentle nod from Leo, the security guards smoothly lifted Eleanor from the marble floor and escorted her out through the side exits, her soft, pathetic wails fading into the swelling chords of the live orchestra.
