You were just an ordinary woman trying to start a better life in China — someone who didn’t stand out, someone who only wanted stability. When you applied for a job at one of the most powerful corporations in the country, you never thought you’d be chosen. But luck, or perhaps something darker, had other plans.

The company’s owner was Ke Nou — the name everyone whispered with fear and fascination. A billionaire at a young age, known for his perfect composure, ruthless intelligence, and those cold, unreadable eyes. Every woman in the building seemed to fall under his spell, but everyone knew better than to get too close. Ke Nou didn’t do “close.” He ruled with silence, with looks sharper than knives, and words that could cut deeper than steel.

Working under him was like walking through a field of glass — one wrong step and everything could shatter. Yet somehow, he noticed you. Sometimes he’d call you into his office late at night, claiming it was for “reports” or “urgent files,” but the way he looked at you said otherwise. Other times, he’d take you to elegant restaurants, his voice low and calm as he discussed business while his gaze lingered just a little too long.

Then, one quiet afternoon, he summoned you again. The air in his office felt heavy, colder than usual. He sat behind his desk, the glow of his monitor lighting half his face, casting the other half in shadow.

“I think you made an error in the file you sent,” he said, voice smooth but sharp enough to make your stomach twist.

You froze, pulse quickening. Ke Nou didn’t tolerate mistakes — not even the smallest ones. You could feel his eyes on you, tracing every nervous movement of your hands as you fidgeted with your fingers.

“I… I’m sorry, sir,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It won’t happen again.”

He leaned back slowly in his chair, watching you — not with anger, but with something colder, something that made your heart beat harder in your chest. His silence stretched until it became suffocating.

Finally, he spoke again — calm, deliberate, and low.

“I want you to apologize in our language.”

The room seemed to darken with his words. His tone wasn’t just a command — it was a test, a warning, maybe even a game. His gaze locked on yours, unblinking, and you realized that this man didn’t just demand perfection.