My Ex-Boyfriend's Name Was in the Chairman's Will - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The old Haisheng office building had been abandoned for years, with only the ground floor still housing a portion of the archives.

By the time Luo Yuncheng and I arrived, two construction vehicles were actually parked downstairs, as if someone were preparing for a temporary site clearance.

“They want to demolish the archive room directly,” I said coldly.

Luo Yuncheng immediately called to arrange for notarization and a police report, while I rushed up to the twenty-seventh floor with Shen Kening.

The hallway was thick with dust, our footsteps sinking in and leaving half-inch deep prints. The bottom drawer of the third row of iron cabinets was secured with an old-fashioned padlock. My palms were slick with sweat as I inserted the key.

*Click.*

The cabinet door swung open.

Inside was a single kraft paper envelope, its cover bearing several faded characters.

*North River Phase 3 Re-inspection Originals.*

I held my breath as I pulled the documents out and flipped them open.

The original re-inspection report, the application for changing steel batches, the ledger of supplier kickbacks, and the minutes from the internal hush-money meeting after the accident-every single piece was there.

Pressed at the very bottom was a handwritten letter.

The handwriting belonged to Fu Mingzhang.

*Yucheng:*

*If you are reading this letter, it means I am no longer here. I cannot escape my involvement in your father’s death. Back then, I chose to protect the company, protect the heir, and protect the business. In the end, I saved everything except for a human life. The person who actually forced him into silence was Pan Yuming. But without my tacit approval, he wouldn’t have dared.*

*I know your hatred is justified.*

*I haven’t handed over the truth all these years, not because I am innocent, but because I am a coward. Only when a person is close to death do they realize that what they fear taking to the grave most isn’t money, but unpaid debts.*

*I owe your father a life, and I owe Luo Yuncheng an explanation.*

*Don’t be like me.*

By the time I reached those last few words, my fingers were shaking violently.

Luo Yuncheng took the letter. After a long silence, he whispered, “He mentioned me.”

“Why?”

Luo Yuncheng looked at the paper, as if finally deciding to peel back the final layer.

“Because my father was part of Haisheng’s legal department back then,” he said.

I snapped my head up to look at him.

“After the North River Phase 3 accident, he advocated for proactive disclosure of responsibility and settling with the victims. Not long after, he was fired for ‘economic issues.’ He died of a sudden cerebral infarction on his way home,” Luo Yuncheng’s voice was hoarse. “My mother always felt it wasn’t an accident, but she had no evidence. It wasn’t until I started investigating your father’s case that I realized the two events were connected.”

I was momentarily speechless.

It turned out we weren’t just torn apart by the same person.

From the very beginning, we had been standing on the same ruins.

Suddenly, a frantic set of footsteps echoed from downstairs. Shen Kening ran up, her face pale with urgency. “Pan Yuming’s people are coming up! And someone cut the power!”

As soon as she finished speaking, the entire floor plunged into darkness.

Only the gray-white light from the sky filtered through the windows.

I instinctively reached for the file folder. In the next second, Luo Yuncheng had already shielded me behind him.

Someone rushed toward us in the dark, and an iron cabinet let out a loud *thud* as it was struck. I heard Luo Yuncheng groan, but he immediately swung a nearby fire extinguisher at the assailant.

“Shen Kening, call the police!” I roared, clutching the file folder tightly, refusing to let go.

The chaos lasted less than half a minute, yet it felt like a century.

When the emergency lights finally flickered on in the hallway, the two men who had rushed up to snatch the documents were gone. The back of Luo Yuncheng’s right hand had been sliced open by the sharp edge of a cabinet, blood dripping down his knuckles.

My heart constricted. “How is your hand?”

“Not broken.” He took a breath and actually managed a smile. “Is the file still there?”

I looked down and saw the kraft envelope clutched so tightly in my arms that the corners were crumpled.

“It’s here.”

“Then it was worth it.”

Looking at the blood on his hand, I suddenly found myself unable to say a single harsh word.