27. Mind Control
Chapter twenty-seven
Mind Control
Lei
The first notes of the orchestra’s new melody swirled through the air seductive, slow, and full of purpose.
It wasn’t the kind of music meant to fill the background.
This one demanded attention.
You have a surprise for us, Father?
The orchestra’s strings wept, the percussions thundered, and a flute sang over it all with a hypnotic voice.
Then they appeared.
Dancers—dozens of them—rushed between the tables like a silver and blue tide. Their dresses flowed and rippled like water under the moonlight as they twirled and leaped with impossible grace.
Gasps and cheers rippled through the air.
Even Moni widened her eyes and watched the dancers weave through the aisles.
But I wasn’t here to admire dancers.
I shifted my gaze to the man seated across from me—my father.
His expression was stony, his jaw tight, and his gaze right on me.
This feast was his creation.
Another illusionary masterpiece.
It should have been awe-inspiring.
Instead, it was a farce.
And this feast wouldn’t be so simple.
My father didn’t create moments like this without a reason. He thrived on control, on the illusion of magnificence to veil his moves.
This wasn’t a performance.
It was a pretty, shimmering distraction.
What are you doing behind the scenes, Father?
I smirked, letting my disdain show.
Meanwhile Chen gestured for two of our men to come over.
They rushed his way.
Chen kept his voice clipped and low. “Watch the dancers closely, and have more people check the perimeter. Something is off.”
The men bobbed their heads.
“I want no surprises.” Chen glanced the dancers’ way. “Make sure even the performers aren’t being used as a weapon by the Grand Mountain Master.”
The two men slipped into the crowd.
Chen continued to take in the new dancers with a calm face, but his hand reached for his glasses, adjusting them unnecessarily.
Once, then twice.
That was his tell that he was on edge.
Aunt Min grinned. “This is just superb.”
Moni’s ladies-in-waiting nodded.
And just when I thought Moni was fully enraptured with the dancers too, she leaned my way and whispered. “Whatever happens, I’ll follow your lead.”
My heart warmed, yet I moved her way and let the corner of my lips slip along the delicate curve her ear. “That’s not what we said. What’s your actual job?”
Several people clapped.
The dancers must have executed some spectacular move.
With a wide regal smile, Moni clapped too as if she were paying attention and then whispered back, “My job is to stay with Duck and Chen, but—”
“No buts.”
She tilted her head slightly. “I can do more.”
“You can’t and we’re not taking any risks.” I moved my lips over her ear again and breathed her in. “While my father may have convinced the world that you’re a monster, I’m not convinced.”
She pulled back and stared defiantly into my eyes. “Then, you should replay that footage again.”
Mmmm.
My cock jerked.
I like ‘Kickass Moni.’ I can’t wait to play with her in bed.
Her words hung in the air between us, sharp and defiant, but it was her eyes that caught me off guard.
They weren’t just the deep, brown endless pools I knew so well—they had changed. Beneath their surface was a newly rising promise of death, a dark determination that sent a shiver of both pride and worry through me.
Moni wasn’t the same woman she’d been before my father had dragged her into his nightmare. That soft, warm light I’d fallen in love with was still there, flickering like a fragile ember. But now, it was wrapped in a wildfire.
I let myself stare at her for a moment longer than I should have, taking in the slight lift of her chin, the set of her jaw.
She was breathtaking, this queen forged in the flames of hell itself.
But her fire alone wouldn’t be enough to burn him down tonight.
“Stick with Chen and Duck.”
She pursed her lips and went back to watching the dancers.
Thank you, Moni. I just need you safe and far away from him when we fight.
The orchestra’s strings went into a frenzy. The flutes fluttered with the percussion’s thunderous heartbeat.
Everyone else had their views on the dancers while my father’s and my eyes locked on each other.
The air between us crackled like a live wire.
Are you ready to die tonight, old man?
To test him, I shot my hand up fast to my wine glass.
His gaze flicked to my hand, and I saw it—the faintest twitch of his lips, the crack in his armor.
You’re unraveling. Good.
Nonchalantly, I lifted the glass to my lips, savoring the weight of it in my hand. The dark liquid inside swirled like liquid silk, reflecting the indigo glow of the chandeliers above.
It could have been wine, but to me, it was his blood.
I sipped slowly, letting the taste coat my tongue, imagining it was thick, metallic, and hot from the very veins of the monster seated across from me.
My eyes never left his and my father watched me with the kind of intensity that could shatter stone.
There was no love in his eyes.
No warmth.
Only hate—pure and unyielding, a bottomless pit that reflected my own feelings for him.
That gaze was supposed to be a relentless assault meant to unnerve me.
It didn’t.
He’d taught me that same move.
Plus, that gaze fueled the fire burning in my chest—a fire that had been ignited long before this night.
Remember. The more unpredictable I am, the more he loses control of his game.
I shifted slightly and slid my arm behind Moni’s chair in a gesture so casual it might have gone unnoticed—except it didn’t.
My father’s eyes darted to the movement and his jaw tightened.
You should stop looking this way. It’s bad to drool after something you can never have.
I leaned in close, my hand resting lightly on the bare skin of Moni’s shoulder. My thumb brushed a slow, possessive path along her collarbone.
Her breath hitched, just enough for me to notice.
She’s all mine.
The dancers blurred in my periphery.
My father’s jaw clenched. The muscle ticked just beneath his weathered skin.
His hands rested on the table but I knew better. They were weapons, always ready to strike.
And yet, they trembled.
Just slightly, but enough.
Oooo. I really pissed you off. Even better.
Smiling at him, I lowered the glass, setting it back onto the table with care.
His eyes followed the movement and then they flicked, just for a moment, to Moni’s hand resting lightly on her lap.
The ring.
I held in my chuckle.
His fury rose, darkening the very space between us.
Next, he put his gaze on my mother’s ring.
He still hadn’t removed it from the bowl of dumplings. I knew he wouldn’t—not here, not in front of all these people. To touch it, to acknowledge it, would have been an admission of defeat.
And he would never admit defeat.
But my mother’s ring sitting disrespectfully in the bowl was killing him.
You didn’t predict that either. Did you?
I winked at him.
My father’s composure cracked—minute fractures spreading across the polished mask he’d worn for decades. I could see it in the tight set of his jaw, the barely restrained fury in his eyes.
The Grand Mountain Master was crumbling.
And I was the one holding the hammer.
The move of dropping my mother’s ring into his bowl had been designed not to wound but to enrage .
My father’s greatest weakness was his pride.
He thrived on respect.
Demanded it.
To strip him of it—publicly, no less—was to rip the ground from beneath his feet.
His lips raised into a sneer before he fixed his face back to that deceptive mask of calm.
Oh yeah. You are fucking very close to losing it.
I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to appear at ease, though every muscle in my body screamed to rip his fucking head off.
This wasn’t just about power or respect.
This was about revenge.
My father had taken my sister from me. He’d taken Chanel and Romeo. All of them had been slaughtered in cold blood. They were gone, their lives snuffed out like candles in the wind, and the man who had done it sat before me.
But even more, Father. You took Moni away from me and forced her to kill. You fucking gave her living nightmares that will haunt her for the rest of her life.
So perhaps this was about more than revenge.
Maybe, this was all about love—one so intense it consumed and collided with any person or anything trying to destroy it.
The music rose and the dancers began to spin closer to us.
Chen called more men over to surround our table.
They hurried and guarded the space.
I felt Moni’s hand slip onto my thigh under the table.
I covered her hand with mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of her skin seeped into my flesh, grounding me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to feel it—the lushness of her love.
My father’s gaze flicked to her, then back to me, and I saw the flicker of something dark in his eyes.
Jealousy?
Anger?
Fear?
It didn’t matter.
Let him feel all of those and more. Let him choke on them.
I kept my breathing even as the fingers on my free hand drummed an unassuming rhythm against the table. I could feel the heaviness of his glare pressing down on me, but I didn’t acknowledge it.
That would give him power and I had no intention of offering him even a sliver of control tonight.
My father put his attention back on the ring decorating Moni’s finger.
I leaned back in my chair, allowing the faintest smirk to tug at my lips. “You don’t seem to be enjoying your feast, Father.”
His eyes snapped back to mine and the hatred there was almost beautiful in its purity. “I’m savoring every moment.”
His voice had been steady, but I knew better.
The man who had taught me to wield power like a blade, who had built an empire on fear and blood, was teetering on the edge.
And all it had taken was a single ring and a carefully orchestrated act of defiance.
“You seem distracted.” I let my words drip with mock concern. “Is there something on your mind?”
He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze once again betraying him as it flicked back to Moni’s hand.
When he finally spoke, his voice was a sharpened sword wrapped in silk. “I was just admiring your… boldness.”
“Boldness?” I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. “I thought you admired boldness, Father. Isn’t that what you always said? That fortune favors the bold?”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “Fortune also punishes the reckless.”
“Is that so?” I took another sip of the wine, letting the tension simmer between us. “I suppose we’ll see.”
The orchestra shifted to another melody, something softer, more subdued.
The dancers moved in unison, their bodies gliding across the floor with an elegance that belied the storm brewing at this table.
I glanced at Moni.
She was watching the dancers, her expression serene but I could feel the subtle tension in her body. She wasn’t fooled by the spectacle. She knew as well as I did that this was a battlefield disguised as a feast.
Under the table, she brushed her thumb along my palm.
That single touch steadied me in a way nothing else could.
My father gestured to Dima and Rowe Street Mob. “I would have liked you to give me special notice for your additional guests. Luckily, we had enough food.”
“They would have never come if you had not disrespected our cookout and kidnapped a woman that they saw as family.”
“This is a Four Aces ceremony that is private and reserved for only—”
“ I am the Mountain Master. I say what this is.” I pointed at him. “And your job is to simply show up. Sit the fuck down and keep your fucking mouth shut until it is time for me to kill you.”
Just like that, the energy around the table snapped to suffocating.
My words hung like a guillotine blade poised above the room, threatening to sever the fragile peace.
Uncle Song’s face paled.
Aunt Suzi dropped her fork.
Aunt Min coughed as she held her teacup in mid-air.
Meanwhile, Duck got closer to the table, prepping himself to vault over the table and stop my father if necessary.
No one else moved.
Not the guards who lined the perimeter.
My father cleared his throat and picked up his glass of wine.
I curved my lips into a wicked smile. “Do you now know your place, Father?”
His grip tightened on his glass, his knuckles whitening under the strain. For a man who thrived on control, he was showing more cracks than I’d expected.
Chen adjusted his glasses again, his lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze swept the table.
My father took a measured sip of wine.
I watched the way his lips curled around the rim of the glass. The wine was his armor now, something to savor while he thought of words to cut me like knives.
When he finally set the glass back down, the sound was sharp against the polished table, like a judge’s gavel sealing a grim verdict.
Here we go.
He leaned forward slightly, narrowing his eyes into a venomous scowl. “You are not the Mountain Master.”
His voice went cold.
Sharp.
Each syllable became a bullet aimed directly at my chest. “You’re a boy . A reckless, spoiled little bratty boy playing dress-up on his father’s throne.”
His smirk widened and twisted with disgust. “And like any unruly, pitiful child, you’ll need to be disciplined.”
I quirked my brows.
“Perhaps I should take you over my knee, son and remind you who truly rules this table, this mountain, this family, and the East. Have some respect.”
I didn’t flinch.
I let his words settle, let them echo in the air around us, seeping into the cracks of his performance.
Then, slowly, I leaned forward, rested my elbows on the table, and met his glare head-on. “You forfeited any right to my respect long ago.”
“Lei. . .your Mountain Mistress looks too nice this evening to have your blood splattered on her crown and gown. Be mindful, Lei, and be silent. Our battle will come soon.”
“This feast is a surprise.”
My father raised his eyebrows. “A surprise?”
“I knew the food would be delicious and the decor extravagant. I guessed there would be a performance of some kind. Singers. Dancers.” I chuckled to myself. “But I never thought that I would get to see the final act of your depressing play.”
Chen whispered to Duck. “Get ready.”
I pointed at my father. “The great Grand Mountain Master has been reduced to—a desperate old fool. A pathetic man grasping at his last shred of power, yearning to still be important. Is this what you wanted everyone to see tonight?”
My father subtly pushed his chair an inch back.
I doubt most had even noticed.
That’s right. Come over here.
I leaned my head to the side. “You want to discipline me? You want to preserve your great legacy?”
His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking like a clock counting down to the inevitable explosion.
“Then, don’t just sit there like a weak old man.” I lifted my glass of wine. “Fucking take your legacy back from me.”
His hands flexed and I saw it—the split-second decision, the moment he finally snapped and charged to attack me.