My husband forced me to carry his mother uphill in a sedan chair while I was seven months pregnant and wearing a brace on one leg. My own mother walked beside us, repeating that I could rest after agreeing to end the pregnancy. Blood soaked the brace before we reached the wedding garden. Then my mother-in-law’s handbag fell open, scattering four different clinic receipts…

Three weeks later.

The high-rise headquarters of the Han Enterprise Group in downtown Jing City was bathed in the warm, golden light of the afternoon sun.

On the sixty-eighth floor, the grand boardroom was filled with thirty senior board members, regional logistics directors, and international trade partners.

The double doors swung open smoothly.

I entered the room in a motorized white wheelchair, wearing a tailored navy-blue silk pantsuit. My belly was high and prominent beneath my jacket, and my right leg was resting comfortably on an elevated support pad, wrapped in a clean, soft knee brace.

Beside me walked Vance Zhao and my mother.

Every single director in the room stood up instantly, bowing their heads in deep respect as I rolled toward the head of the long mahogany table.

"Chairwoman Chen," the senior vice president said, pulling out the main leather chair at the head of the table so my wheelchair could dock beside it.

"Please sit, everyone," I said, my voice echoing clearly through the acoustic chamber of the room.

The directors sat down nervously, shuffling their documents, eyeing the young woman who had brought down the entire Han family dynasty in less than a month.

"As you are all aware," I began, resting my hands comfortably over my belly, "the former management of this firm engaged in extensive financial fraud, illegal pharmaceutical procurement, and treasonous asset stripping. As of nine o'clock this morning, all assets linked to Beatrice and Julian Han have been permanently liquidated to satisfy federal compliance penalties."

A quiet murmur ran through the directors.

"Our international shipping lanes with the European consortium were threatened by this scandal," I continued, tapping the digital control screen on the table. "However, I have personally negotiated a new ten-year trade agreement with the Vance Logistics Group."

The screen behind me lit up, displaying a multi-billion-dollar joint venture contract bearing the official seal of the Zhao and Chen estates.

The directors gasped in awe. The valuation of the company stock had just doubled in a single sentence.

"Chairwoman Chen," an older director spoke up, his voice filled with newfound admiration. "What are your instructions regarding the ceremonial gala scheduled for next month?"

I smiled—a calm, bright, brilliant expression that held no remnant of the weak girl who had bled on Mount Jing.

"We will hold the gala as scheduled," I said smoothly. "And all proceeds from the event will be donated to the newly established Mabel Chen Foundation for Victims of Domestic Violence and Medical Exploitation."

The boardroom erupted into thunderous applause.

My mother stood beside my chair, a warm, soft tear of pride sliding down her cheek as she squeezed my shoulder.

I looked out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows at the vast, sprawling skyline of Jing City below.