The conversation with Nick Fury had left Lin Feng feeling mentally drained.
Standing in the center of the quiet villa, he watched as Fury, Natasha, and Coulson stepped into the night, disappearing into a sleek black SUV that hummed down the private road like a shadow. Lin exhaled deeply and slumped into the couch, the weight of diplomacy finally off his shoulders.
It was somehow more exhausting than a battle.
Negotiating with a man like Nick Fury—a strategist known for manipulating allies and enemies alike—was like playing chess against a master with your soul on the board.
"For now, that's all we can do..." Fury had said, nodding faintly, the way a general acknowledges a temporary truce with a volatile war machine.
As foreign support went, Lin had proven himself to be anything but useless.
Still, the man known across intelligence circles as the "Black Braised Egg" couldn't help but push once more. "I hope you seriously consider our offer. The Earth could use someone like you."
Lin Feng met Fury's gaze, calm and assertive.
"I'll protect the Earth," he replied. "But I'll do it my way, Director Fury."
Fury's one eye narrowed slightly, the smallest sign of unease flickering in his usually unreadable face. Lin let that hang in the air for a heartbeat before delivering the payload.
"As a token of sincerity, let me offer a suggestion—check how many holes there are in S.H.I.E.L.D."
Fury's brow twitched. "Holes?"
"'Cut off one head...'" Lin Feng's voice lowered, steady and clear, "'...and two more shall take its place.'"
The phrase landed like a thunderclap.
Fury's composed expression cracked, just for a moment. His pupils constricted, his jaw tightened. He leaned forward as if needing confirmation from Lin's face.
"That's impossible," he said, almost to himself. "Hydra was eradicated. Years ago."
"I don't need to lie to you," Lin Feng shrugged casually. "You'll see for yourself. Just… take a closer look. Otherwise, your S.H.I.E.L.D. might just become Snake and Shield."
Fury said nothing. But the way he stood, lips pressed into a line, his silence spoke volumes. With a short gesture, he summoned Natasha and Coulson to his side, and the three departed without another word.
Once the villa door closed behind them, Lin Feng collapsed back onto the leather sofa with a sigh of relief.
Fighting a supervillain? That was easy.
Fighting bureaucracy? That took a toll.
---
While Lin finally found a moment of peace, the same couldn't be said for Susan back at the news station.
She should've listened to Lin.
Really, she should have taken the day off like he suggested—rest, relax, maybe binge some nature documentaries and recharge after the wild week they'd had. But no. She had deadlines, stories, and pride. And now she was paying for it.
It started subtly, like a small ripple before a wave.
Near the end of her shift, a high-pitched gasp cut through the newsroom. "Oh my God!"
Susan winced.
She didn't have to look up. That nasal tone—dramatic and artificially sweet—belonged to only one person.
Shima.
The self-proclaimed office queen and gossip ring leader had zeroed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. Susan felt every pair of eyes lift from their monitors and land squarely on her.
"Susan," Shima trilled loudly, "Are you... in love?"
The room collectively inhaled. Susan felt her pulse spike.
Crap.
She'd worn the silver necklace Lin gave her. A delicate thing with a tiny, shimmering gemstone nestled in the center. It wasn't gaudy, but it was unmistakably elegant—and brand new.
Susan forced a tight smile. "Yes. Is that weird?"
Shima's eyes lit up like paparazzi spotting a celebrity wardrobe malfunction.
"I knew something was different about you!" she practically sang. "That necklace—so not your usual style. And that gem? Looks expensive."
Susan's lips thinned.
She clenched the warm coffee mug in her hands and took a slow sip, as if the heat could shield her from the embarrassment creeping up her neck.
"It's none of your business," she said evenly.
But it was already too late. The newsroom erupted into whispers and murmurs louder than Shima's fake apology that followed.
"Oh, Susan, I didn't mean to make a scene!"
Right.
As if she hadn't planned the whole thing just in time for John's arrival.
"Was that the luxury car that picked her up yesterday?"
"Someone said it was from Stark Industries!"
"Oh my God, Tony Stark? You think she—?"
"No, I heard it was a young guy. Asian. Tall, stylish... gorgeous."
"I'm so jealous."
Susan kept her gaze on her desk. She knew better than to feed the flames, but it didn't help that her cheeks were burning—and not from flattery.
Then it happened.
A loud, furious voice shattered the chatter like glass.
"SUSAN!"
Everyone froze.
John.
The office's senior editor—and her persistent, unwanted admirer—stormed across the room, red-faced, eyes wild. He stopped in front of her desk, fists clenched.
"You—you have a boyfriend?!" he spat, incredulous and accusing.
Susan rose from her chair, instinctively taking a step back. "What is wrong with you, John?!"
"You're supposed to tell me if you're seeing someone!"
Her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
He was trembling now, jabbing a finger toward her. "Did you do it for the money?! Huh?! Is he rich? Did he buy you?!"
The slap was instant.
The sharp crack echoed through the newsroom.
Susan's eyes were blazing. "John! How dare you insult my dignity?!"
Everyone went silent. Even Shima's smirk vanished.
John looked stunned, holding the side of his face, his mouth working uselessly for a comeback.
"You know how I feel about you," he finally said, hurt layered with delusion. "How could you—without my consent—?"
Susan laughed, bitter and disbelieving. "Consent? What are you, my legal guardian? I've rejected you—clearly, repeatedly."
She shook her head and grabbed her bag.
"I don't like you. I never did. And if you keep harassing me, my boyfriend—the real one—will be upset. Trust me. You don't want that."
With her final words, she strode toward the elevator, chin up, though her legs still felt sore from last night's romantic walk through Central Park. John noticed—and his rage boiled over again.
His glare was venomous, burning with envy and twisted obsession.
As the elevator doors closed behind Susan, John turned to the rest of the newsroom. "What are you all staring at?! Get back to work!"
The office collectively flinched, returning to their screens with exaggerated intensity. No one wanted to be next in his path of fury.
---
Back in his office, John slammed the door and poured himself a full glass of cold water, gulping it down to douse the fire in his chest.
But it didn't help.
He'd been fantasizing about Susan for months—her energy, her youth, her smile. She was everything he wanted but couldn't have. That made her the ultimate prize. And now… someone had beaten him to it.
He felt like something precious had been stolen. And he wanted revenge.
A knock came at the door. Sharp. Timed.
"Who is it?" he barked.
"It's me," came the syrupy voice.
The door opened. Flora stepped in.
Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she slinked across the office, settling onto his desk as if it were her personal throne.
Flora wasn't beautiful—not in the traditional sense—but she knew how to manipulate a man like John. And that made her dangerous.
"You're furious," she said, studying his face. "And rightfully so."
John didn't respond.
"I saw the whole thing," she continued, toying with a paperclip. "That girl's been walking around like she owns the place. You deserved better."
John's eyes flicked up.
Flora leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"I have a plan."
John blinked. "What kind of plan?"
"The kind that makes Susan regret crossing you," she said with a slow smile. "And the kind that makes him regret ever touching what should've been yours."
She pulled a folder from her bag and laid it out in front of him.
John's eyes scanned the contents, and his frown slowly morphed into a grin.
"Well, well… Flora," he muttered, impressed. "I didn't know you had this in you."
"Oh, I've got more than that," she purred. "We're in this together. And with this evidence? That girl's reputation won't survive."
John's fingers tightened around the folder.
"No one steals what's mine," he whispered.
Flora leaned back, her expression victorious.
"Let's ruin a fairytale, shall we?"
---
To be continued...