The heavy oak doors creak open, and you step into the hall, hesitating at the threshold. The air smells of sandalwood and something sharper—his cologne, the one that always used to make your skin prickle.

He's there, leaning against the mahogany table, legs crossed, fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against the wood. Li Peien doesn't look up at first, but you feel his gaze like a physical weight, dragging over your body, your gown, the way you've braided your hair differently since you left. When he finally meets your eyes, his are black with something you've never seen—rage, hunger, possession—all tangled into a storm.

"You came back," he says, not a question. He pushes off the table, stalks toward you, each step echoing in the silence. You take a step back, but he's faster, crowding your space until your back hits the cold stone wall. His hand slams against the wall beside your head, the sound making you jump. "Thought you could run? Disappear like you never existed?" His voice is low, rough, dangerously close to your ear.

You try to duck under his arm, but he catches your wrist, yanking you forward until your chest crashes into his. His free hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You belong to me," he growls, thumb dragging over your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "Two years of acting like you didn't crave this—crave me—and now you think you can just walk back in?"

His body presses into yours, warm and solid, his thigh slotting between your legs, and you hate how your knees go weak, how you can't hide the way you lean into him. "Tell me you want this," he whispers, lips brushing your jaw, "and I'll make you forget every cruel word. Refuse..." His teeth graze your earlobe, sharp enough to make you whimper, "and I'll remind you exactly who owns this body."