Chapter 2 JIAN

Singapore, a jewel of Southeast Asia, was a city-state synonymous with prosperity, innovation, and luxury. Among its most esteemed and wealthiest families was the Tanaka family. Their influence permeated nearly every facet of Singaporean society, from finance and real estate to technology and philanthropy.

The Tanaka family's origins were humble, their fortune built over generations through a combination of shrewd business acumen, strategic investments, and an unwavering commitment to expansion. The patriarch, Zhang Tanaka, was a figure of immense power and respect. His word was law within the family conglomerate, Tanaka Holdings, a sprawling empire with tentacles reaching across the globe.

Zhang, in his late seventies, was a picture of refined elegance. His silver hair was always impeccably groomed, his tailored suits bespoke of Savile Row, and his eyes, though aged, held a sharp intelligence that missed nothing. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, people listened.

Jian, Zhang's only child, was groomed from birth to inherit and expand the family's legacy. He was more reserved, preferring the intricacies of deal-making and investment strategy to the limelight. He worked tirelessly behind the scenes, gradually soaking up all it takes to be a better fit in his Dad's shoes, a master strategist with an uncanny ability to predict market trends and identify lucrative opportunities.

They lived in opulent splendor, their homes testaments to their wealth and status. Zhang resided in a sprawling mansion overlooking the city, a modern architectural marvel filled with priceless art and cutting-edge technology. Jian maintained an equally impressive residence, reflecting his individual tastes and ambitions.Their influence extended far beyond their business interests. The Tanakas were major philanthropists, donating vast sums to various causes, from education and healthcare to environmental conservation and the arts. Their contributions shaped Singapore's cultural landscape and earned them a revered place in the nation's history.

The annual Tanaka Holdings gala was a spectacle of Singaporean high society. Held at the family's private island resort, the event was a testament to their wealth and influence. As the city skyline glittered in the distance, the island buzzed with the chatter of dignitaries, celebrities, and business tycoons, all eager to bask in the Tanakas' golden aura, Jian found himself increasingly detached from the festivities. He stood on a balcony overlooking the immaculately landscaped gardens, the humid night air taking his mindaway from the crowd.

A figure approached him. It was May Lin, a sharp and ambitious businesswoman in her mid twenties, who had recently made waves in the Singaporean tech scene. Her family, though wealthy, was not in the same league as the Tanakas, and she had built her success through sheer grit and innovation.

"Mr. Tanaka," she greeted him, her voice confident and her eyes piercing. "Enjoying the view?"

Jian managed a polite smile. "It's...impressive."

"Impressive, but perhaps a bit suffocating?" May Lin countered, a hint of challenge in her tone. "All this gold, all this power...it must be a heavy burden."

Jian was taken aback by her directness. He sure wasnt in the mood for any discussion as such, tonight. May Lin's candor was refreshing, albeit unsettling.

"It has its challenges," he said, abruptly,with a "thank you" smile, hoping she would just go away.

"Challenges that you seem to be handling with admirable grace," May Lin said, her gaze unwavering. "But grace can be a mask, Mr. Tanaka. What lies beneath?"

Before Jian could respond, a commotion erupted near the entrance to the ballroom. A wave of hushed whispers rippled through the crowd as his father was disturbingly clutched to his chest, his usually composed face contorted in pain. He stumbled slightly, and in an instant, two impeccably dressed members of his personal security detail stationed at his side, rushed to help him maintain his balance. Their movements were swift and practiced. Simultaneously, a closely positioned first responder, always on standby at every time, especially on such events, moved forward with professional calm.

The music abruptly stopped, and a palpable tension filled the air. The glittering chandeliers seemed to dim, casting long, anxious shadows across the opulent hall. The image of the invincible patriarch, the bedrock of Singapore's elite, momentarily shattered.

Jian's detachment vanished instantly. A primal fear gripped him as he saw his father, the seemingly unshakeable force in his life, appear so vulnerable. He moved swiftly through the stunned crowd, his heart pounding in his chest, while the security personnel expertly cleared a path.

"Father!" Jian's voice cut through the worried murmurs as he reached Zhang's side. The first responder was efficiently monitoring Zhang's vital signs, relaying information in hushed tones to the security team.

Zhang, his breathing shallow and ragged, gripped his chest tightly. He couldn't manage more than a strained nod in Jian's direction. His security detail, their faces grim and focused, made a swift assessment.

Within moments, the security team expertly and swiftly guided Zhang towards a discreet exit, their movements shielding him from the now openly concerned gazes of the guests. The low thrum of rotors began to cut through the stunned silence – a sleek, private helicopter, undoubtedly on constant standby on the family's private island, was already descending onto a designated helipad a short distance from the ballroom. Its landing lights, though necessary, were kept to a minimum, a silent urgency cutting through the night.

Jian followed closely, his mind racing.

The carefully curated image of control and invincibility surrounding his family had fractured in an instant. The sight of his powerful father being carefully assisted towards the waiting helicopter was a stark and terrifying reality check. The wind from the descending rotors whipped around them, carrying the scent of the sea and the manicured gardens.

As Zhang was carefully helped inside the helicopter's spacious cabin by his security detail and a waiting medic, Jian turned back to the stunned crowd, his face pale but resolute. He offered a brief, strained statement, his voice barely audible above the fading roar of the engines. "My father requires immediate medical attention. Thank you for your understanding."

Then, without another word, he ducked his head and swiftly boarded the helicopter, the door sliding shut behind him. The aircraft lifted smoothly into the night sky, its lights receding rapidly against the backdrop of the distant Singaporean skyline.

Zhang lay pale and still, an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. The rhythmic beeping of the medical equipment filled the sterile space, a stark contrast to the vibrant music and lively chatter of the gala just moments ago. Jian reached out and gently took his father's hand, surprised by how frail it felt. The image of him lying helpless in the ambulance was jarring, a stark reminder of mortality that Jian had always subconsciously pushed to the periphery.

The hospital nestled in a quiet part of the city, was already prepared for their arrival. Even before they landed, a team of doctors and nurses was waiting, Zhang was swiftly and carefully transferred onto a gurney and wheeled inside, Jian following closely behind, his eyes fixed on his father's still form.

He was ushered into a private waiting area, a luxurious space designed to offer comfort and privacy during times of crisis. But the plush furnishings and calming artwork did little to soothe Jian's frayed nerves.

Finally, Jian was allowed to see his father. Zhang lay in the hospital bed, looking pale but more alert. He had broken down from fatigue, as the doctor said.

"Jian," he said, his voice still raspy, a hint of his usual directness returning. "This... this has been a reminder."

Jian nodded, his throat tight with a mix of concern and the ever-present weight of responsibility. "Rest now, Father. That's all that matters.

He looked at Jian, his gaze steady despite his weakened state. "You're my only son, as it should be according our family tradition, Jian. The future of everything we've built... it rests with you."

Jian met his father's gaze. "I know, Father. I am spearheading noticeable growths in..."

"Irrelevant!" Zhang interrupted, his voice rising slightly, causing a nurse to glance in their direction. He lowered his tone but the intensity remained.

What is an empire without an heir?

He paused, taking a shallow breath. "I need to see a grandson, Jian. Before... before it's too late. Someone to inherit not just the holdings, but the bloodline. And you... you are my only hope. Yet you act like finding a suitable wife is some trivial inconvenience! Do you even have a girlfriend, you... you idiotic boy?"

Jian felt a flush of frustration rise within him. Here he was, worried sick about his father, and the first thing Zhang focused on was his marital status.

"Your priorities are misplaced!" Zhang snapped, his voice gaining a surprising strength. "Your priority should be securing the future of this family! Find a woman, Jian. A suitable woman. Someone who understands our world, our responsibilities. Someone who can give me a grandson. Do you understand?

"Twenty-one years," he said, his voice barely a whisper, yet each word carried the weight of those lost years. "Twenty-one years since Hana was taken. A lifetime." He looked at Jian, his gaze both piercing and filled with a father's sorrow. "We held onto hope for so long. We poured resources, Jian, more than you can imagine, into finding her. "The chances of her still being... alive... are slim, Jian. Terribly slim. We must be realistic, and even her father, my friend, must understand this."

The memory of Hana was a bittersweet ache in the deepest recesses of Jian's mind, a ghost of a childhood he rarely allowed himself to revisit. Their betrothal had been arranged even before they were birthed, a strategic alliance between two rising families in Singapore's burgeoning economic landscape. Yet, what began as a formal agreement blossomed into an unexpected and tender bond.

He taught her to fly kites, their colorful tails dancing against the Singaporean sky, her delighted squeals echoing in the breeze. She, in turn, brought a lightness and joy into his young life that had been absent before. Their bond, though forged through familial obligation, had become genuine, a quiet understanding blossoming between them. The thought of a future together, however distant, held a comforting certainty for young Jian.

Then came the day that shattered that fragile peace. It was during the annual Singapore Garden Festival, a vibrant explosion of color and life. The Tanaka and Li families were hosting a private viewing, a gathering of their closest associates amidst the fragrant blooms. Jian, ever responsible, had been briefly distracted by a conversation with his father, his eyes momentarily leaving Hana, who had been captivated by a display of exotic butterflies.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

There was no struggle, no cry for help that anyone recalled. One moment, a small girl in a bright yellow dress, mesmerized by fluttering wings; the next, an empty space. The ensuing chaos was a blur of frantic searches, hushed, panicked whispers, and the immediate mobilization of the Tanakas' immense resources. Zhang, his face a mask of cold fury and dawning horror, unleashed his entire network – private investigators, security experts, even discreet inquiries through less conventional channels.

Singapore, a city-state known for its stringent security, seemed to swallow Hana whole. The police, Interpol, private agencies – all drew blanks. It was as if she had vanished into thin air, leaving behind only a gaping hole in the hearts of two families and a chilling mystery that defied explanation.

For Jian, the loss was a profound ache, a first taste of true heartbreak. He was assured that she'd e found. Days became years,the vibrant world he had shared with Hana dimmed, the laughter silenced, poor Jian grew conditioned with loyalty with Hana, hoping to see her one day, no matter how long. He carried the guilt of that brief moment of distraction, a burden that no amount of reassurance from his parents could fully alleviate.