The Billionaire Businesswoman Searches for Her Lost Son: I acquire my mother’s billion-dollar enterprise

Song Ziwei’s mind reeled, the weight of Uncle Li’s words pressing down like a boulder. She stared at the nine-eyed Dzi bead necklace cradled in her palm, its exquisite patterns gleaming faintly under the soft office light. The intricate carvings, as though imbued with centuries of mystique, now felt heavier, almost alive with history.

Priceless? Inestimable value? Only two in the world?

The words echoed in her ears like a bell tolling in a quiet chamber. Her heart raced, and her normally calm demeanor cracked ever so slightly. “Uncle Li,” she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to betray her disbelief, “are you absolutely sure about this?”

Uncle Li adjusted his glasses, his experienced fingers twitching as if itching to hold the artifact again. He nodded gravely. “Ziwei, I’ve handled antiques for decades. If I’m not mistaken, this is no ordinary Dzi bead. The craftsmanship, the aura… It’s unmistakable. A true nine-eyed Dzi bead is considered a talisman of immense power and blessing in Tibetan culture. Kings, lamas, and the wealthiest individuals sought after it. To call this necklace rare is an understatement—it’s legendary.”

Song Ziwei’s knees felt weak. She clutched the necklace tighter, her thoughts swirling. How could she not have realized its significance? Qin Yuan had given it to her so casually, as though it were no more than a trinket. His words from the previous evening resurfaced: “It’s not worth much; just a small gift from me as your brother.”

Her mind raced back to the moment he had placed it in her hands. Had he truly understood the gravity of his gift? Or was he so accustomed to handling treasures like this that it simply didn’t matter to him?

“Uncle Li,” she said, her voice firmer now but tinged with curiosity, “if this is so precious, how did it even end up in my hands? My mother didn’t give it to me—it was my… my brother.”

“Your brother?” Uncle Li’s brows furrowed, his surprise palpable. “That Qin Yuan, the son your mother recently reunited with?”

Song Ziwei nodded hesitantly. Uncle Li’s eyes narrowed as if trying to piece together a puzzle far more intricate than the necklace in question. “Interesting,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “If it came from him, then I’m starting to think your brother isn’t as simple as he seems.”

Ziwei’s lips parted as if to protest, but she stopped herself. Deep down, she had harbored similar suspicions ever since their reunion. Qin Yuan’s composed demeanor, his subtle air of authority, and the enigmatic twinkle in his eyes spoke of a man who had seen more of the world than he let on. But this? A priceless treasure handed over as a casual gesture? It defied explanation.

Uncle Li sighed, shaking his head as if to dispel his own growing unease. “Ziwei, take care of this necklace. It’s more than just valuable; it’s a piece of history. And if your brother truly gave this to you, I suggest you look deeper into who he really is.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. The thought of probing into Qin Yuan’s past felt intrusive, yet the mystery around him was growing too large to ignore. What kind of man could possess something so priceless and give it away as if it were nothing?

“Thank you, Uncle Li,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her. “I’ll take good care of it.”

He nodded approvingly. “You should. And Ziwei… if you ever want to know more, come find me. A treasure like this deserves to have its story told.”

With that, he left, leaving Song Ziwei standing alone in the hallway, the necklace warm against her palm as though it carried a heartbeat of its own.

Meanwhile, in Courtyard No. 1 of the Tan Palace, Qin Yuan lounged in his private study, a steaming cup of tea in hand. He leaned back in his chair, the faint scent of agarwood lingering in the air. A faint smile played on his lips as he recalled Ziwei’s reaction when he handed her the necklace.

“She must have realized by now,” he muttered to himself, his tone amused.

The Dzi bead wasn’t just an artifact; it was a treasure steeped in centuries of Tibetan legend, revered as a symbol of protection, prosperity, and spiritual enlightenment. To Qin Yuan, however, it was one of many such items in his vast collection—rare, yes, but far from irreplaceable. He had given it to Ziwei not as a statement of wealth, but as a gesture of goodwill, a small way to bridge the gap between siblings.

Still, her reaction would be interesting. Would she confront him? Ask questions? Or would she simply accept the gift and bury her curiosity?

The sound of his phone vibrating interrupted his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, the name “Vivian” flashing across it.

“Vivian,” he said smoothly as he answered, his tone light but firm.

“Mr. Qin,” came the British-accented voice of the Azure Foundation’s president. “The situation with Gezhi Group is progressing as anticipated. However, Song Yazhi seems to be taking defensive measures. She’s no pushover.”

Qin Yuan chuckled softly, the sound rich and unbothered. “Of course she isn’t. She’s my mother, after all.”

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line. “Your mother?”

“Indeed,” Qin Yuan replied, his tone casual yet filled with an unspoken power. “Let her resist. Let her fight. I want to see how far she’ll go to protect what’s hers.”

“And if she pushes back harder than expected?”

Qin Yuan’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with the predatory gleam of a chess master closing in on victory. “Then we play the game to its conclusion. Remember, Vivian: Qin Shi Huangdi never moves unless it is beneficial. And when he moves, he conquers.”

He ended the call, setting his phone aside as he leaned back once more. The game was unfolding perfectly, each piece moving into place. All that remained was to see who would make the next move—his mother or himself.

Either way, the board was his to control.