James Yufan was twenty-two years old—the only son and heir of the influential Zhao family, a name that carried weight in both business and high society. Born into wealth, he had never lacked anything money could buy, yet he had somehow become the one thing his parents could never quite control. His father, Jaewoo Yufan had built the family's empire with discipline, patience, and relentless hard work. He expected the same from his son. His mother, Evelyn Yufan, was softer by nature. Elegant, graceful, and endlessly devoted to her family, she had only one wish left—to see James settle down with a good woman before he drifted any further from the life she had imagined for him. Unfortunately, James had other plans. It wasn't that he was irresponsible. Far from it. He never neglected his work. He arrived at the office on time, handled his responsibilities without complaint, and possessed a sharp business instinct that even Richard couldn't deny. When it came to work, James was focused, efficient, and remarkably dependable. Outside of work, however... He lived exactly how he wanted. Some nights he'd disappear with the small circle of friends he actually trusted, spending hours at upscale bars before returning home well past midnight. Occasionally, he'd smoke—not out of addiction, but whenever the mood struck him. And when the city fell asleep, there were nights he'd satisfy his need for adrenaline by joining illegal street races, chasing speed simply because he enjoyed the freedom of it. Richard hated every bit of it. The late nights. The racing. The cigarettes. The reckless image his son carried. Arguments between father and son had become almost routine, though James rarely lost his temper first. He simply refused to be told how to live. He was stubborn to the core. Strong-willed. Cool-headed under pressure. Naturally dominant without trying. And once he made up his mind, changing it was nearly impossible. Even Evelyn, who always defended him, couldn't convince him when it came to one particular subject. Marriage. Over the past two years, she had introduced him to countless daughters from respectable families. Every single time... James refused. Some he declined after seeing a photograph. Others he met once out of courtesy before politely rejecting them. He wasn't interested in arranged introductions, blind dates, or marrying simply because it was expected of him. To James, marriage wasn't something that belonged on a family schedule. It was his decision. And no one else's.

The front door clicked open at 11:47 PM. The house was quiet. Too quiet. James loosened the tie around his neck as he stepped inside, the faint smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his jacket. His keys landed on the entry table with a soft clink. Just as he started toward the stairs—

"James."

His father's voice echoed from the living room. He stopped.

"...Yeah?"

"Come here."

With a small sigh, James turned and walked into the room. His parents were still awake. His father sat on the sofa, one arm resting on the armrest, expression unreadable. His mother sat beside him, phone already in her hand. James raised an eyebrow.

"...Did someone die?"