Chapter 2

I moved into a secluded teahouse compound owned by our order.

Tucked far away from the noisy downtown area, it had been my master's personal retreat in his younger days.

A week was enough for the herbal salve to mend my fractured bone. It was also enough time for the news outside to blow up into a media sensation.

Sterling Heiress and Wall Street Prodigy Rumored to Tie the Knot: Loyal Chauffeur Risks Life to Shield Employer.

A Five-Hundred-Dollar Tip: High-Society Class or Utter Humiliation?

The internet was flooded with hot takes.

Chloe’s PR machine was top-tier. In no time, they spun the whole incident into a touching narrative of high-class benevolence and servant loyalty.

I had been reduced to a stubborn, ungrateful prop.

Chloe probably assumed that after a few days of pouting and reading the headlines, I would crawl back on my knees.

After all, over the past two years, whenever we argued, I was always the one to yield first.

Back then, I thought compromising was love. Looking back, I had just discounted my own self-respect and handed it to her on a silver platter.

Giving in once is devotion. Giving in a hundred times is just pathetic.

When her call finally came through on my burner phone, I was in the courtyard striking the wooden dummy.

"Ethan, where the hell are you? If you’re done throwing your fit, come home," she said, her voice dripping with annoyance.

I paused, catching my breath.

"Is there something you need?" My voice was deadpan.

The line went silent for a few seconds. Clearly, she hadn’t expected this kind of cold detachment.

"Can’t I call you unless there’s an emergency? I told Walter to leave the front gate unlocked. Come back tonight."

"My father's birthday gala is next week. I’m not used to you not being around," she commanded casually, arranging my life as if it were her birthright.

I could practically picture her lounging on her Italian leather sofa, inspecting her fresh manicure while barking orders.

"Not used to it?" I let out a soft laugh. "Miss Sterling, don't you have Julian Thorne by your side now?"

"A Wall Street hotshot must give you way more bragging rights than a chauffeur ever could."

"Ethan! Do you always have to be this sarcastic?!" Her voice spiked sharply. "I explained it to you already! It was for business! Why can't you just be mature and understand that?!"

"Oh, I understand completely," I replied calmly. "Which is why I won't bother you anymore."

"I wish you and Mr. Thorne great business and a happy marriage."

Without another word, I hung up and blacklisted her number.

I slammed my palms back into the wooden dummy, every strike ringing out with a crisp, booming echo that shattered the lingering ghosts of my past.

Mia walked over carrying a bowl of steaming herbal tonic and set it on the stone table.

"Ethan, anger ruins your focus, and it ruins your recovery."

I looked at her and laughed self-deprecatingly. "Mia, was I really that stupid?"

Mia shook her head, her gaze crystal clear. "You weren't stupid. You just cared too deeply."

"My dad always said: Wing Chun trains the heart. When the heart is upright, the fist strikes true."

"You just gave your heart to the wrong person."

Over the following days, I completely unplugged from the outside world.

Aside from my daily conditioning, I spent my time sipping tea and playing chess with the elders, or sparring with Mia to refine her footwork.

Thanks to the secret bone-setting balm, my right arm healed at a terrifying speed, becoming even denser and more resilient than before.

Meanwhile, Chloe’s glamorous life continued to pop up in the business gazettes the disciples brought over.

She and Julian were practically joined at the hip. They attended high-end charity galas and prestigious economic summits together, hailed everywhere as the golden couple of the year.

The papers reported that with Julian’s financial backing, Sterling Enterprises had secured a massive downtown commercial development. Their stock price had rocketed sky-high.

That singular victory had cemented Chloe’s grip over the board of directors.

Everyone declared that the Sterling heiress had landed the ultimate catch.

One afternoon, Mia slammed a financial daily onto the table, her cheeks flushed with indignation.

"Look at this, Ethan! This Julian Thorne is a walking fraud!"

"The leverage strategy he introduced is an absolute death trap!"

"The moment their cash flow hitches, the entire Sterling conglomerate will be dragged straight into the abyss!"

Mia grew up in a lineage of sharp minds and knew modern finance inside out.

I picked up the paper. The front page featured Chloe leaning against Julian's arm, smiling with triumphant arrogance.

My heart didn't stir a single ripple.

"So what?" I said quietly. "It's her choice."

"But—" Mia started.

I cut her off gently. "Mia, a person's fate is carved out by their own decisions."

"All we need to do is watch our own path and throw our own strikes."

I tossed the paper into the iron brazier. Fire instantly swallowed the two deceitful, smiling faces.

Mia cleared away the tea set, suddenly remembering something. "Oh, by the way. Yesterday in town, I bumped into Walter, their old butler."

"He asked me about you. He said things are getting ugly at the Sterling mansion. A bunch of key partners suddenly pulled their investments, and the banks are freezing their credit lines."

"Richard Sterling is panicking so hard he’s breaking out in cold sweats, begging everyone in his network, but not a single soul will lift a finger."

I stirred the embers in the brazier with an iron poker. "Nothing to do with me."

"Fair enough," Mia shrugged. "Though Walter did mention that Richard Sterling started looking into someone recently."

"Who?"

"Julian Thorne. Sounds like the old man finally smelled a rat."

I fell silent. The dying embers flickered in the dark, like an ominous countdown.

Three days later, Richard Sterling showed up at my doorstep.