Chapter 7 - The Mandarin Melody
The shootout in the penthouse lasted less than ten minutes, but to Ethan, every second stretched like an eternity. With calculated precision, he dismantled the syndicate's hit squad one by one, utilizing the tactical training from his youth before he became a corporate titan.
When the smoke cleared and federal reinforcement sirens wailed in the streets below, Ethan walked back into the panic shelter.
Lily was sitting on the plush carpet, looking up with wide, intelligent eyes. She wasn't crying. In fact, she looked remarkably calm, as if she had grown accustomed to living in the crossfire of monsters.
As Ethan knelt down to check if she was injured, the little girl reached into her pocket—a pocket of the new pastel dress he had bought her—and pulled out a small, charred metallic pendant.
She held it out to him.
Ethan took it carefully. It was a half-burned locket made of silver, engraved with delicate Mandarin characters and a small photograph of a smiling woman who looked strikingly like Lily.
“Mommy… sing,” Lily whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.
Ethan felt a lump form in his throat. He gently wiped a stray tear from her cheek.
“She loved you very much, didn't she?” Ethan asked softly.
Lily nodded slowly. Then, astonishingly, she began to hum. Not the sad, trembling tune she had sung to the plastic cup in the dark basement, but a brighter, sweeter melody—the lullaby her mother had taught her in Shanghai before the world turned cold.
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Ethan pulled the little girl into his arms, resting his chin on her soft black hair. In that quiet moment amidst the chaos of blood, money, and international crime, the billionaire realized something profound: he didn't just want to protect her until the trial was over.
He wanted to be her father for the rest of his life.
