MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!

The officer’s eyes sharpened.

"You better tell us where you took her right now," he said, his tone losing patience. "We already have evidence that you colluded with Mao Li, the president of Blue Entertainment, to abduct Hua Jing. We know about the meetings. We know about the coordination. What we don’t know is where you left her."

Hua Ling’s lips curled.

She leaned forward and spat directly onto the officer’s face.

"I already told you," she hissed hatefully, "I don’t know where she is. So why do you keep asking me? Stop asking me! Stop asking me!"

Her voice escalated into near hysteria as she jerked against the handcuffs again.

The officer slowly wiped the saliva from his cheek. For a brief moment, something like pity passed through his eyes—not for her, but for what was coming next.

He stood and stepped aside to make a call.

Miles away, in the suffocating darkness of Silian Forest, Fu Jing Rong’s phone vibrated.

He answered immediately.

"Mr. Fu," the officer reported, "we have apprehended Hua Ling. She is refusing to disclose Hua Jing’s location."

There was a pause.

Then Fu Jing Rong spoke only three words.

"Team One will come."

On the other end of the line, the officer’s jaw tightened.

"Sir..." he began carefully. "Do we really have to resolve to that?"

The air between them felt heavy even through the phone.

"Do you want me to repeat myself?" Fu Jing Rong asked, his voice devoid of warmth.

The officer swallowed.

"No, sir."

The call ended.

He stood still for several seconds, staring at the flashing highway lights and the restrained woman kneeling on the ground. A faint pang of pity stirred within him—not because she was innocent, but because he knew exactly what Team One represented.

Team One was not police.

They were not bound by standard interrogation protocols, nor by the cautious restraint that law enforcement attempted to maintain.

They belonged to the shadows of the Fu family.

For decades, the Fu family had been protected by unseen hands—men who operated beyond public scrutiny, beyond legal boundaries, ensuring that no threat ever reached the family’s core. They were the contingency no one spoke about openly. The line that was crossed only when everything else failed.

And something had failed.

Hua Ling was transported into a police van, her protests echoing against the metal interior as the doors slammed shut. The convoy moved quickly toward the station, sirens no longer blaring but urgency radiating from every movement.

Inside the station, tension thickened the air. Officers exchanged quiet looks. Some knew the name Team One. Others only sensed the shift in atmosphere.

It did not take long.

The doors to the station opened again.

Ling Wei entered first.

He moved with calm precision, dressed in a dark suit that contrasted sharply with the chaos of the night. His expression was unreadable, but his presence alone altered the room’s temperature.

Behind him stood two men.

They did not wear uniforms. They wore black—simple, functional clothing that allowed for movement. Their faces were impassive, eyes cold and observant. There was no arrogance in their posture, no overt aggression. Just quiet certainty.

They looked ordinary at first glance.

But there was something in their stillness that unsettled everyone in the room.

These were men who did not hesitate.

Men who had long ago abandoned the luxury of moral discomfort.

Anything that came close to harming the Fu family was intercepted—swiftly and brutally. Their methods were not recorded in official reports. They left no paper trail. Problems simply ceased to exist.

Ling Wei approached the front desk.

"Where is the head of the police?" he asked calmly.

He was directed to the office.

Inside, the head officer rose as Ling Wei entered.

"I have come to take someone," Ling Wei said without raising his voice.

The officer hesitated for a fraction of a second. He understood the implications. Once Hua Ling left this building under their custody, what happened next would not be something he could supervise—or stop.

"She is legally under arrest," the officer said carefully.

Ling Wei met his gaze steadily.

"And she is holding information that determines whether Mrs. Fu lives or dies."

Silence stretched between them.

The officer exhaled slowly.

Procedures mattered.

But time mattered more.

After brief, tense negotiation and signed transfer documentation that would never be publicly scrutinized, Hua Ling was brought out.

She was still defiant.

"You can’t do this!" she screamed as she was escorted down the corridor. "I demand my lawyer! I demand to speak to someone in authority!"

Her voice faltered when she saw the two men waiting.

They simply looked at her.

And in that look was something deeply unsettling—an absence of emotion so complete that it felt inhuman.

For the first time since her arrest, genuine unease crept into Hua Ling’s chest.

"Who are they?" she demanded, her voice wavering despite her effort to remain composed.

No one answered.

The handcuffs were unlocked only to be replaced by a different set—stronger, colder metal biting into her wrists.

Ling Wei stepped aside.

"Take her," he said quietly.

The two men moved in unison, their grip firm but controlled. There was no unnecessary violence, no theatrics.

That made it worse.

Hua Ling did not go quietly.

The moment the two men from Team One tightened their hold on her arms, she twisted violently, digging her heels into the tiled floor of the station corridor. Her voice rose into a shrill wail that echoed off the sterile walls.

"Let go of me! Where are you taking me? Why are you taking me?" she demanded, her composure finally fracturing into naked panic. "I demand to know! You can’t just move me like this! Where are you taking me?!"

Officers in the hallway pretended not to hear. Some lowered their gazes. Others stiffened and turned away. This transfer was not being processed loudly, nor recorded publicly. There were no flashing cameras, no official announcements. Just a quiet exchange of custody that only a handful of people fully understood.

It was deliberate.

Discreet.

Controlled.

Hua Ling sensed it too, and that realization made her fight harder. If this were a formal procedure, she could scream about her rights, call her lawyer, rely on family influence. But this? This felt like something slipping beyond her grasp.

She kicked backward, nearly striking one of the men in the shin, but he did not react. His grip tightened just enough to neutralize her movement without appearing aggressive.

"Unhand me!" she shrieked again as they exited through a side door into the dimly lit parking area. "Do you know who my family is? Do you know what will happen to you if you touch me like this?"