Author's POV:
The sun was setting over the sprawling cityscape of Wuhan, casting long shadows across the opulent penthouse suite that crowned one of the city's most exclusive high-rises. Inside, a woman in her late forties sat alone in a plush leather armchair, her posture rigid despite the comfort of her surroundings. The room around her spoke of wealth and power - priceless antiques adorned marble surfaces, and a state-of-the-art sound system played soft classical music, filling the air with the gentle strains of Chopin.
But the woman's attention was fixed solely on the collection of photographs spread across the glass coffee table before her. Her manicured fingers trembled slightly as she reached out to touch one particular image - a little girl with bright eyes and a toothless grin, no more than three years old. A single tear escaped the woman's carefully made-up eye, trailing down her cheek and leaving a glistening path in its wake.