The boardroom door closed behind Lin Yuè with a soft, final click that echoed louder than any shout.
Inside, the silence was suffocating.
Guàn Jǐngchén stood frozen at the head of the table, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white. The signed documents, the shared access papers, the love confessions, the nights spent wrapped around each other — everything crashed over him at once like a tidal wave.
He had trusted him.
He had loved him.
And the boy he had fallen for — the soft, shy, innocent Lin Yuè who blushed at every touch and whispered "I love you" with trembling lips — was the same ghost that had haunted him for five long years.
Eclipse.
The name burned like acid in his mind.
Li Wei was the first to speak, voice carefully measured. "CEO Guàn, we should—"
"Get out," Guàn Jǐngchén said, voice dangerously low. "All of you. Now."
The board members exchanged uneasy glances but filed out quickly. Li Wei lingered for a second longer, but one look at the CEO's face made him leave without another word.
The moment the door shut, Guàn Jǐngchén's control snapped.
He slammed his fist onto the table, the sharp crack echoing through the empty room. Papers scattered. His chest heaved with ragged breaths as the full weight of the betrayal sank in.
Every kiss.
Every "I love you."
Every night Lin Yuè had slept in his arms, soft and trusting, while hiding the truth.
Guàn Jǐngchén's vision blurred with rage and something far more painful — heartbreak.
He stormed out of the boardroom and headed straight for his private office, slamming the door behind him. The security feed showed Lin Yuè had already left the building. The penthouse security logs confirmed he had not returned there either.
Guàn Jǐngchén stared at the empty chair where Lin Yuè had sat beside him for weeks. The memory of the younger man's shy smile, the way he blushed when their fingers brushed, the soft sounds he made when Guàn Jǐngchén was inside him — all of it now felt like a cruel, perfectly crafted lie.
He sank into his chair, head in his hands.
How had he not seen it?
The coding talent that was too good for a simple intern.
The way Lin Yuè always seemed to know exactly where the vulnerabilities were.
The subtle flinches when old Eclipse cases were mentioned.
The way he had looked at him with those big doe eyes while hiding a monster behind them.
Guàn Jǐngchén's phone buzzed. A message from security:
*Lin Yuè has left the premises. No destination logged. Do we track him?*
His thumb hovered over the reply.
Track him.
Bring him back.
Lock him in the penthouse until he explained every single lie.
But his fingers wouldn't move.
Instead, he typed a single word:
*No.*
He dropped the phone on the desk and stared at the wall.
The hunter had finally caught his ghost.
And now that he had him… he didn't know what to do with the truth.
Meanwhile, Lin Yuè walked through the streets of Shanghai in a daze, the oversized sweater he still wore suddenly feeling too big, too much like a costume that no longer fit.
Tears streamed down his face unchecked. He didn't bother wiping them away.
He had known this moment would come.
He had chosen to stay anyway.
Every "I love you" had been real.
Every touch, every kiss, every night spent wrapped in Guàn Jǐngchén's arms — all of it had been the most honest thing he had ever done in his life.
And now it was over.
Lin Yuè found a quiet bench in a small park and sat down, pulling his knees to his chest. The city moved around him, indifferent.
He had lost everything.
The only person who had ever made him feel safe, seen, loved — now looked at him with betrayal and rage.
And yet…
A small, broken part of him still hoped.
Hoped that the man who had whispered "I love you" while buried deep inside him, the man who had held him through the night like he was something precious, might still choose to love the real him — the ghost and the boy, both.
But hope was a dangerous thing.
And right now, all Lin Yuè could do was sit in the ruins of the life he had dared to dream of, waiting to see if the hunter would come for him… or if he had already decided the ghost was better left dead.
Back in the office, Guàn Jǐngchén stared at the empty chair across from him.
His phone remained silent.
The hunt was over.
But the war had only just begun.
End of Chapter 43