Chapter 38: The Missing Server

We pull up to the estate and I expect Bael to disappear into his study like usual, leaving me to figure out what to do with the rest of my day.

Instead, he turns to me as we’re getting out of the car.

"Come with me. There’s something you should see."

I follow him inside, through corridors I’m starting to recognize, to his home office at the end of the west wing. Large windows overlook the gardens, dark wood furniture arranged with precise efficiency.

He closes the door and gestures to one of the chairs facing his desk.

I sit, still clutching the ultrasound photos like they might disappear if I let go.

Bael moves around to his computer, wakes it up with a few keystrokes, then turns the monitor so I can see.

Security footage.

The timestamp shows the wedding reception, right around when I was standing with Mrs. Zhou’s circle.

"I wanted to show you this earlier," he says, leaning back against the desk edge, arms crossed. "But you were busy recovering."

The angle shows me clearly, talking with the group, reaching for water from a passing tray, completely oblivious.

Then a server approaches from behind, moving through the crowd with his own tray balanced on one hand.

I watch myself not notice him, too absorbed in whatever Mr. Kim was saying.

The server gets closer, his path should take him past me with plenty of room, but instead he shifts his trajectory at the last second.

His shoulder and arm slam into my back.

Hard.

Not a gentle bump or an accidental brush, a deliberate collision that sends me stumbling forward with no way to catch myself.

Mrs. Zhou’s hands grab my arm a split second before the chandelier crashes exactly where I’d been sitting.

My throat goes dry watching it.

The chandelier was already falling by the time the server hit me, which means someone had tampered with it beforehand, timed it perfectly, and somehow knew I’d be standing in exactly that spot at exactly that moment.

"He pushed me," I say quietly.

"Yes." Bael rewinds the footage, zooms in on the server’s face. "He made it look like he tripped carrying the tray, but watch his feet."

I lean closer, the server’s feet are planted, stable, his body deliberately angling into the collision.

Mid-thirties maybe, completely nondescript features, standard uniform. I don’t recognize him at all.

"We’ve been looking for him since then," Bael says. "He walked out through the service entrance immediately after and vanished. His listed address was fake, employment records forged, references don’t exist."

"So someone planted him there specifically."

"Yes."

The word sits heavy between us.

Someone paid this man to push me, tampered with a chandelier beforehand, orchestrated the whole thing down to the second.

Someone tried to kill me at my own wedding.

"...Who?" I ask, though part of me already knows the answer.

Bael’s jaw tightens, that muscle jumping like it does when he’s controlling his temper. "I suspect my uncle. Wuchen Ming."

The man who smiled at me with dead eyes, whose handshake made my skin crawl.

I press my hand against my stomach without thinking. "Because of the baby."

"Because of the will." Bael’s voice goes flat, business-like in that way that means he’s angry underneath. "If I’m not married with an heir by the time I turn thirty, control of Wuchen Group passes to Uncle Ming. I have about eleven months left."

Eleven months.

Long enough for the baby to be born, but barely.

"So if something happens to the baby..." I work through it out loud. "You don’t meet the conditions."

"Exactly." Bael uncrosses his arms, pushes off from the desk. "Uncle Ming stood to inherit everything until you got pregnant. Now he’s losing his chance, and he’s not the type to accept that quietly."

The pieces click together with a clarity that makes my stomach turn.

The attack wasn’t random, wasn’t about me personally, it was calculated elimination of an obstacle. Get rid of the baby before it’s born, Bael fails to meet the will’s conditions, Uncle Ming gets the company.

Clean and simple.

"But you don’t have proof," I say.

"Not yet." Bael moves to the window, staring out at the gardens. "The server disappeared completely, probably dead by now if whoever hired him is covering their tracks properly."

Dead.

The thought should disturb me more than it does, but if someone is willing to kill me at a wedding in front of two hundred witnesses, killing a hired server to eliminate evidence is nothing.

"And even if we found him," Bael continues, "he’d just be a hired hand, the real question is how they knew."

"Knew what?"

"Where you’d be standing." He turns back to face me. "The chandelier had been tampered with earlier, our people confirmed that. But they timed it to fall at exactly the right moment, which means they knew you’d be in that specific spot. How?"

I think back to the reception, Mrs. Zhou inviting me to join their circle, the casual drift of conversation that led us to that exact area of the room.

"Mrs. Zhou couldn’t have been part of it," I say slowly. "She’s the one who pulled me back."

"Agreed. Which means either they were watching and waiting for an opportunity, or..." He trails off, expression darkening.

"Or they had someone else at the reception feeding them information," I finish.

The thought makes my skin crawl.

Someone at my wedding, smiling and congratulating us, was reporting my movements to whoever orchestrated the attack.

"We’re investigating everyone who had access to the venue that day," Bael says. "Staff, guests, vendors. Someone helped set this up."

The calm I’ve been holding onto starts to crack at the edges. This isn’t just Uncle Ming making a move, it’s a whole conspiracy, people working together, planning, coordinating.

Someone powerful enough to orchestrate all of that is someone I can’t fight directly.

Not alone.

Not without resources.

My hand tightens on the ultrasound photos still in my lap.

Bael must notice because his expression shifts, some of that hard anger softening into something that might be concern.

"You’re being very calm about this," he observes.

"Would panicking help?"

His lips twitch into something that’s almost a smile. "No. But most people would anyway."

"I’m not most people."

"I’ve noticed." He moves back to the desk, leans against it so he’s closer to me. "Security around the estate has been increased. No one gets in without thorough background checks now, Mrs. Wen will prepare all your meals personally and won’t let them out of her sight." A pause. "When you leave the estate, you’ll have a driver and security detail."

I should probably argue about being constantly monitored, about losing what little freedom I have.

I don’t.

Because someone just tried to kill me and my baby, and refusing protection out of pride would be stupid.

"Okay," I say.

Bael’s eyebrows raise slightly, like he expected more resistance. "Just like that?"

"Would you prefer I fight you on it?"

"Not particularly." That almost-smile again. "But you’ve been surprisingly cooperative today. It’s making me suspicious."

"Someone tried to murder me at my own wedding," I point out. "I’m not stupid enough to make it easier for them by refusing help."

Something in his expression shifts, surprise, maybe, or approval, or both.

"Good." He reaches out and his fingers catch my chin, tilting my face up so I have to meet his eyes. "Uncle Ming made his move once and failed. He won’t get another chance."

The certainty in his voice is almost reassuring.

Almost.

"You can’t know that," I say.

"I can." His thumb brushes my lower lip, casual and possessive. "Because now I know what he’s trying to do, and I won’t let my guard down again."

The touch sends heat through me despite everything, despite the conversation we’re having, despite the danger we’re discussing.

I pull back and his hand drops, though that slight smirk stays on his face like he knows exactly what effect he has on me.

"What about evidence against your uncle?" I ask, trying to get the conversation back on track. "If you suspect him, can’t you do something?"

"Not without proof." Bael’s voice goes hard again. "And he’s too smart to leave a trail. But I’m watching him, and the moment he makes another move..." He doesn’t finish the sentence, but the implication is clear.

Threat. Promise. Both.

I nod slowly, processing everything.

The danger is real and ongoing, Uncle Ming wants me and the baby gone, and Bael is willing to protect us, though I’m not naive enough to think it’s purely about me.

The baby is the heir, the solution to his inheritance problem.

I’m just the one carrying it.

But right now, that’s enough.

Because it means Bael will keep us both safe, if only to secure what he needs.

"I’ll be more careful," I say, and mean it.

Bael studies my face for a long moment, like he’s looking for cracks in my composure.

Whatever he sees must satisfy him because he nods.

"Good. This doesn’t end with us losing." Not a question, just stated fact. "Uncle Ming underestimated us once, that was his last chance."

The conversation feels finished, settled, the first real honest discussion we’ve had about the danger I’m in and what it means.

I stand, ultrasound photos still clutched in my hand, and Bael doesn’t stop me this time.

As I walk to the door, I can feel his eyes on me, assessing, calculating, protective in that way that’s equal parts reassuring and unsettling.

Outside his office, I let myself lean against the wall for just a second.

Someone tried to kill me.

Uncle Ming wants the baby dead.

Bael is watching, planning, protecting what’s his.

And I’m standing in the middle of it all, carrying the heir everyone’s fighting over.

I press my hand against my stomach and head upstairs.

This isn’t over, but at least now I know what I’m up against.

And I know Bael won’t let anything happen to the baby.

That will have to be enough.