"What game are you playing, Lyra?"

  I lean against the bar, a confident smile curving my lips as I meet Jianhua’s gaze. "Darling, you're going soft. It's not like you to hesitate when there's big money to be made."

  Mini, the movie star—now clad in a nightgown—brings over two glasses of drinks. Sensing the serious atmosphere, she quietly withdraws, leaving us alone.

  Jianhua Xiao ignores the drink Mini sets at his elbow and fixes his gaze on me. It's a familiar look, firm and icy. One I've seen bring many commanding and dangerous people in Beijing to their knees.

  I've been navigating these deep waters for nearly as long as he has. I still remember that young student council president of the esteemed Beijing University, opportunistic, smart, and ruthless when he turned against his fellow students.

  Twenty five years of political maneuvering have made him one of the most formidable forces in the Ruby Republic.

  "You brought her here. It would lead a man to believe you have a vested interest in the girl. I'm not interested in being a pawn in your games, Lyra. I need to know everything."

  He's bluffing. I can see it in the tension behind his jaw. He wants in, like a shark circling its prey.

  Though Evangeline lacks political savvy and life experience, her business plan sparkles with undeniable brilliance.

  In the world of crypto, narrative is everything. A seductive myth, a tantalizing promise, a fever-dream of fast riches—these are the currencies that move markets. And no coin has a story more electrifying than hers.

  The Hightower Coin carries a name whispered across continents, a symbol of power backed by the fastest-expanding pharmaceutical titan on Earth. The Hightower Group has shattered records, becoming the first company in history to eclipse a trillion-dollar valuation, driven by a breathtaking mastery of CRISPR technology.

  But pharmaceuticals are just the prolog.

  Hightower’s new venture, the Sanguine Institute, is rewriting nature. Exotic breeds. Engineered perfection. Their first creation? Bloodsteeds—genetic thunder incarnate. Faster than anything alive. Stronger than anything bred. They’ve shattered records and rewritten racing history.

  Here’s the twist: bloodsteeds, along with all Sanguine Institute’s future creations, aren't bought. They are won. The only currency accepted at auction? Hightower Coins.

  As Sanguine prepares to go public, the coin’s value will be tethered to its soaring stock. Each coin becomes a stake in the genetic future. Prestige meets biotech. Velocity meets legacy.

  The question isn’t should you buy in.

  It’s how fast before you’re left behind.

  Evangeline’s coin offering lit a fire under the market. Speculators scrambled, projections soared. It's initial release—just 2% of the total supply—was expected to rake in over $100 million. Then the Central Bank slammed the brakes—“irregularities,” “unauthorized financial engineering.” The usual euphemisms for political sabotage.

  Now Eva needs help, and Jianhua is in a position to provide it—and make a huge profit in the process. It's only my presence that has alarms blaring for him.

  I pick up my drink and swirl it gently, enjoying the clink of ice against the glass.

  "You know the circumstances surrounding my departure from the States."

  "I know Alaric Hightower is behind it."

  His name is a blade. Even now, it slices through me.

  He found me bleeding in Brazil and didn’t rescue me—he repurposed me. Molded me into something beautiful, dangerous, obedient. A vessel for his ambition. An enchantress forged in his cauldron.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  I feared him. I worshipped him. I loved him.

  And he loved me—until he saw who I truly was.

  Until I stopped being malleable and started being powerful.

  That’s when devotion turned to cruelty. Not metaphor. Not heartbreak. Chains. Needles. Silence.

  He made sure I could never go home. Stripped me of everything but breath and fury.

  Any other woman would’ve died.

  But I didn’t.

  I survived.

  And survival, in my case, is just the beginning.

  I draw a breath, bury the rage. Jianhua doesn’t get to see that part of me. Not tonight.

  "Eva is his youngest granddaughter. His favorite." I say.

  Jianhua exhales, slow and sharp. "And you expect me to believe she’s here by accident? That she’s about to sign off on something guaranteed to enrage her grandpa?"

  "Of course not." I laugh, light and lethal. "But I am only guilty of baiting the hook. She craved control of Hightower Group, leaped at the chance. If this burns her grandfather, all the better."

  He studies me long and hard. Then shakes his head. "I’ve done my homework. It’s not that simple."

  "Bigger sharks?"

  I wouldn’t be surprised. But unless it’s one of the Ruby Five—the five members of the Politburo Standing Committee—no one in the Republic can match what Jianhua and I bring to the table.

  "Last week, the Politburo summoned Morgan Dubois. Private blockchain briefing. Bao Fang arranged it."

  Bao Fang. The banker with a saint’s face and a butcher’s hands. He’s the shadow agent of Qiuhan Wang—one of the Ruby Five.

  "What does Bao Fang know about fintech?" I scoff.

  "He knows money. And he smells blood. A hundred million dollars is just the appetizer." Jianhua scowls, but a glint of greed flickers in his eyes.

  "What's his plan? As far as I know, he hasn't contacted Eva."

  "Not directly. But he may be behind the Central Bank’s investigation. Bao Fang is the greediest bastard I’ve met. He doesn’t nibble. He devours."

  I sip my drink, calculating. Dubois’s talk wasn’t meant for education—it was a signal. Qiuhan staking a claim. Telling the other four: this domain is mine.

  Yet, nothing is free. Political capital must be paid, often in the form of provincial or ministerial appointments, and balance must be struck among the political families.

  That’s why they rarely venture into something this novel. Nobody knows how much is to be gained, and how long it will last. Oil, telecom, autos—they knew the terrain and the returns they would get. Blockchain? It’s fog and fire.

  "No one will challenge Wang's claim. Best move is to broker a bigger deal. Slot this in as part of the bargain." I conclude swiftly.

  Jianhua nods, reluctant admiration in his eyes. "That's exactly what I was thinking."

  It plays into our strength.

  The Ruby Five may rule the Republic, but even devils answer to time. Every five years, the party rotates its leadership. Anyone over seventy is forced to step down—an archaic rule, yes, but one that still slices through dynasties like clockwork.

  Qiuhan Wang has two years left. When he retires, Bao Fang loses his shield. Without Wang, he’s exposed—just another ambitious banker with too many enemies and not enough leverage.

  Jianhua and I chose a different path. We don’t belong to any one faction. We serve them all. To outsiders, it looks like weakness—no patron, no protection. But that’s the illusion. In truth, we are the brokers, the fixers, the neutral ground where rival empires meet without drawing blood.

  They need us. To make money. To move money. To hide money. To stitch deals across fault lines that would otherwise fracture the Republic.

  And with every rotation of power, our value compounds. We don’t just survive the reshuffling—we thrive in it. That’s how we’ve stayed in the inner circle for over two decades. Not by loyalty.

  By indispensability.

  "I know exactly what to put on the trading block." I flash him another seductive smile. This time, even Jianhua’s eyes flicker with desire, despite knowing full well I'm poison in silk.

  "Don't rush it. Lay the groundwork. A Hightower, albeit thrilling, is too high-profile. Plus, I have a feeling that the girl may flinch. Give it two days. Let it simmer."

  "You really are going soft." I smooth a hand over his shoulder and lean in, breath brushing his ear. "Darling, you're underestimating the girl. She's already set her course. Whether it’s tonight or forty-eight hours won't change a thing."

  "All the same." Jianhua pulls away, betraying his unwavering voice.

  I shrug. She was mine the moment she stepped into my car. Time is just theater.

  "Whatever you think is best. It's your money."

  He narrows his eyes. "Remember that. By the way, she'll need the full treatment."

  "I expected nothing less." I smile—slow, dangerous, and unmistakably persuasive. "Now, there’s something more important…"

  /*CRISPR was first identified in Escherichia coli in 1987 by Yoshizumi Ishino and colleagues at Osaka University. But at the time, the function of these sequences was unknown.

  In 2005, Francisco Mojica at the University of Alicante in Spain recognized that these sequences matched fragments of viral DNA, leading to the hypothesis—later confirmed—that CRISPR functions as an adaptive immune system in bacteria.

  The leap from curiosity to revolutionary gene-editing tool? That came in 2012, when scientists like Jennifer Doudna and Emmanuelle Charpentier demonstrated how CRISPR-Cas9 could be harnessed to edit genomes with precision.*/

  /*Although the story is set in a fictional country with fictional characters, it is grounded in realism. What may seem strange to Americans would be instantly recognisable to those who live under authoritarian regimes: the political machinery, the culture, and the characters.*/