All Chapters of The Rich Man's Proxy Marriage: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The morning sunlight barely pierced the glass walls of Lu Corporation’s executive floor, leaving the room bathed in a sterile, almost clinical glow. Elena sat at the large mahogany table, reviewing the latest shareholder proposals with meticulous care. Yet her mind was only partially on the documents.Johann Lu’s presence had grown like a shadow over the company, subtle yet menacing. His recent interactions had been carefully orchestrated, every word and glance designed to unsettle Elena, to provoke Holden, and to manipulate the board. Today, however, Johann’s maneuvers were poised to escalate into a full strategic confrontation.Holden lingered just outside the boardroom, his expression taut. He had followed Elena without announcing himself, a silent guardian ensuring Johann’s “accidental proximity” wouldn’t turn into something more. His hands itched to intervene, to step into the room and assert dominance, yet he restrained himself.Every instinct screamed that Johann was testing th

Elena used to think marriage was a private vow—two people against the world. She was wrong.Marriage to Holden Lu was not a union. It was a declaration of war.She understood that fully now.The first threat arrived without a signature.No name. No sender. Just a thin cream envelope slipped beneath the door of her private office, sealed with red wax bearing an unfamiliar crest—an abstract dragon devouring its own tail.Inside was a single line, printed neatly:Be careful where you stand, Mrs. Lu. Blood remembers blood.Elena read it twice. Then a third time.Her hands did not shake—but her spine went cold.This wasn’t Johann’s style. He preferred words spoken softly, knives hidden in smiles. This was older. Colder. A message from the family itself.She burned the letter in the small brass tray on her desk, watching the flame curl the paper into ash.So this was it.This was the real inheritance Holden had married her into.Holden found out within an hour.He stormed into her office

Elena did not sleep that night.Victory had weight. It pressed against her chest like a second ribcage, rigid and unforgiving. The board meeting replayed in fragments—faces tightening, Johann’s smile collapsing, the moment silence confirmed she had crossed a line no Lu spouse ever had before.She had won.And in the Lu family, winning never came without blood.The threat arrived at dawn.Not digital this time.Physical.A single white envelope lay on the marble table of the Lu residence’s breakfast room, placed there sometime between the night patrol change and the morning staff’s arrival. No seal. No name.Inside was a folded sheet of paper and a small object wrapped in tissue.Elena unfolded the paper first.Congratulations on your independence.Let us see how long it lasts.Her breath slowed—not because she was calm, but because panic would give the sender too much satisfaction.She unwrapped the tissue.A silver cufflink.Holden’s.The one he wore only during internal Lu board fun

Elena woke before dawn with the familiar certainty that something had shifted again.Not outside.Inside.The Lu residence was silent, wrapped in the kind of artificial calm that existed only because dozens of people were paid to ensure it never broke. The security lights outside her window blinked in their programmed rhythm, indifferent to the truth Elena could no longer ignore.Marriage had not been the price of entry.Blood was.She sat up slowly, fingers brushing the faint bruise on her arm—a reminder of how close death had come. The ache grounded her. Pain had become a language she understood better than comfort.This is what they warned me about, she thought.And this is what they never expected me to survive.Holden was already awake.She found him in the private study, standing rigidly in front of a wall of screens displaying internal reports, surveillance feeds, and red-marked security alerts. His jacket was discarded over the chair, his sleeves rolled up—an unspoken sign tha

It did not hide behind flowers or anonymous messages or polite smiles in dark corridors.It came with speed.With violence.And with the unmistakable intent to remind Elena of one simple truth—This war was no longer symbolic.The black sedan swerved too close.Elena felt it before she understood it—the sudden tightening in her chest, the instinctive shift of her weight as the car beside hers accelerated, cutting sharply into her lane.“Brake!” her driver shouted.The world tilted.Metal screamed against metal as the impact threw her sideways, seatbelt biting into her shoulder. Glass shattered. The sound was deafening, disorienting.The sedan didn’t stop.It rammed again.Once.Twice.Then veered away into traffic, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.The car lurched to a halt.For three long seconds, everything was silent.“Elena—Madam—are you hurt?” the driver asked, voice shaking.She touched her temple. Blood—warm, real—stained her fingers.“I’m fine,” she said, forcing her br