CHAPTER 31: CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: WHAT REMAINS

The lights in the Song residence were harsh and bright, throwing long shadows across the marble floor.

Song Zhiyuan’s hand came down hard on the table. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

The echo lingered, sharp with anger. Across from him, Song Qingwan flinched. Her eyes were rimmed red, her cheeks streaked faintly from tears hastily wiped away.

"I didn’t mean for it to happen," she whispered. The once-prideful princess of the Song family was no longer radiant—only small beneath the weight of her own mistake.

"Didn’t mean for it to happen?" Song Zhiyuan scoffed. His voice was sharp, every syllable a blade. "Stealing confidential data for An Yanming?"

His hand slammed against the table once more, the sound ringing through the living room like a final verdict.

"You were careless," he said coldly. "You couldn’t even cover your tracks. Now the entire city knows you betrayed your own engagement for a man."

Each word hit like a strike, deliberate and merciless. "Do you know how everyone sees us now? Foolish? Laughable?" He let out a sharp breath, the edge of his fury trembling just beneath control. "All for the sake of a man! You threw away the heir of A Group—and now you’ve ended up with a man who’s about to be outed from it!"

The words landed like a slap.

Song Qingwan flinched, her throat tightening as the weight of her father’s contempt settled in.

"You didn’t think," he snapped. "You dragged the Songs into a scandal like this. For whatever purpose? For the sake of your love?"

His tone dripped with disgust. "I thought I’d taught you better than this. But turns out you didn’t learn anything at all."

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the air conditioner.

Song Zhiyuan exhaled harshly and turned away, his shoulders rigid. "Tomorrow, the paperwork will be arranged," he said without looking at her. "You’ll marry and take responsibility for what you’ve done. Don’t expect a grand wedding—there’s face left to save."

The words landed heavier than any shout.

Song Qingwan’s lips trembled. "Father—"

But her plea was cut short by a quieter voice.

"I thought I knew you," Madam Xu, Song Qingwan’s mother, said slowly. "I thought you understood that you are very much part of this family." Her tone wasn’t angry; it was weary, almost hollow. "I didn’t expect you to be the one to tear it down."

"What is wrong with choosing to marry a man that I like?" Song Qingwan shouted, her voice breaking halfway through. "What is wrong with not wanting to be treated like a bargaining chip? Why? Why doesn’t anyone understand me?"

Her outburst shattered the fragile stillness in the room.

For a moment, even her father was silent. The outcry wasn’t just desperation—it was rebellion born too late.

Madam Xu closed her eyes briefly, the faintest trace of pain flickering across her face. When she spoke again, her tone was quiet, almost too calm.

"You think this is about love?" she asked softly. "If An Yanming truly loved you, would he have let you be humiliated in front of everyone tonight? If he truly loved you, would he even put you in this state?"

The question cut through the air like glass.

"He won’t." Madam Xu sighed. "If he did, he would have fought fair and square for your hand."

Qingwan’s breath caught. Her lips parted, but no words came.

Her mother’s voice stayed gentle, but the disappointment behind it deepened. "You wanted to prove you weren’t just a bargaining chip," she continued. "But look at what’s left now—no reputation, no respect, no protection. You gave it all away, Qingwan."

Her tone cracked on the last word, so quietly that it almost went unheard.

Song Zhiyuan turned toward the stairs, unwilling to listen further. "Enough," he said coldly. "Let her reflect. I don’t want to hear her name until the marriage is over."

The heavy footsteps receded up the stairs.

Madam Xu lingered for a moment longer, her gaze lingering on her daughter’s tear-stained face. "You always thought love would save you," she said softly. "But in our world, love is the first thing that’s used against you."

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Song Qingwan standing alone in the bright, merciless light.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

When she finally moved, it was only to sit down slowly, her hands trembling in her lap.

She had wanted freedom, love, a choice of her own.

Now, all she had was the consequence.

*****

The silence lingered long after her parents were gone, settling heavy in her chest.

For the first time, the house she had grown up in felt foreign—every corner too bright, every silence too sharp.

She had always thought herself the victim. The daughter used as a pawn in business deals, the girl traded for alliances and contracts. It was easier to blame her parents than to admit that she had never once questioned the comfort their choices brought her.

The designer clothes, the invitations to society galas, the way others looked at her with envy—she had enjoyed it all. She had believed she deserved it.

And maybe she did. But none of it had been free.

Her father’s sternness had built the world she stood in, and her mother’s careful hands had kept her from falling. Even the engagement she’d scorned so deeply—An Yancheng—hadn’t been forced on her. They had asked, and she had agreed.

She agreed because she thought he would be kind. Because his gentleness had seemed like love.

Only now did she realise that kindness was not the same as affection, and love—true love—was not a prize to be taken.

She pressed her palms against her eyes, but the tears came anyway.

Maybe she had been right about one thing: she had been a bargaining chip. But at least back then, she had value.

Now, she wasn’t sure what she was anymore—only that everything she’d fought for had slipped quietly through her fingers, leaving nothing but the echo of regret.