Chapter 2
Kai
“I’m doing everything I can to be with you. Love you.”
I hit send—again. It had become a ritual. A form of self-punishment I refused to break. For three weeks now, that tiny flicker of hope was the only thing keeping me sane.
Within seconds, the red warning icon appeared. Then another popped up, asking me to try again later.
Either June had changed her number… or she’d blocked me.
I preferred the latter. Because I was a fool—and I deserved it.
For now, all I could do was keep trying. Maybe one day—when she could spare an ounce of pity and let me back into her life—I’d know she was ready.
My text would go through.
That would be my sign. Proof that she was ready to listen again.
Still, disappointment slammed into me when that red exclamation mark stared back.
Every. Single. Time.
It comforted me, in a cruel way, that her brother couldn’t reach her either. Not like me—completely cut off and cast out of her world. Lincoln had at least received a message in the family group chat, letting them know she was safe.
Apparently, she was “relaxed” and “having a good time by the sea.”
Somewhere she didn’t want me to find her.
There were moments I suspected my best friend was hiding something. That maybe he was helping June avoid me—tucking her away in his beach house, spinning this story about her being “by the sea.”
But Lincoln wouldn’t do that. It was too cruel, especially for someone who’d lived through that kind of loss.
He knew what it felt like—losing someone you loved. His wife, Chloe, had once vanished for a decade before he found her again. He understood what that kind of absence did to a man—how it hollowed a man from the inside until nothing but guilt and longing were left to rattle around your chest.
It had taken a week for Lincoln to speak to me again. He’d heard how violently my mom had attacked his baby sister—and how I’d failed to protect her.
He had every right to hate me.
Part of me agreed with him.
For years, he’d understood how badly I wanted to break free of that woman’s control. Boarding school. University in the States. Building my business outside China. All of it had been my rebellion, my way of clawing distance from her grip.
But when it truly mattered—when June needed me to stand up to her—I failed.
Choosing my parent over June was the lowest point of my life.
The mad woman’s tantrums were nothing new. If she wasn’t raging at me, she turned her venom on her husband, his mistress, or their son. Eventually, she’d calm down, regret it, and pretend nothing had happened.
I told myself it was duty that made me stay.
Pity.
Fear.
Take your pick.
But deep down, I knew—someone like her would never find happiness. And I’d inherited her weakness: the need to please the person who hurt me most.
That was how she’d gotten me to date the women she handpicked.
How she made me say yes to marrying Lucy.
The sigh that escaped me was long, hollow. Defeated.
I sat there, staring at the polished black marble floor. Soft gold and gray veins glimmered under the warm backlight from the shelving behind me. I twirled my chair slowly, watching the reflection shift, letting the patterns morph into unfamiliar shapes—like clouds I used to chase as a boy.
“Li Zhong.”
Her soft voice startled me, even though I’d been expecting her at this exact hour.
“Good morning, Angela.”
The older woman stepped into the room, her tan skin warm under the morning light.
She wore a loose cotton blouse and beige slacks, her silver-streaked hair pulled neatly into a bun.
I had specifically asked her to dress casually—no scrubs, no nurse’s uniform that might alert the old woman to Angela’s real purpose in this house.
Her eyes were sharp and observant, the kind that saw far more than one ever admitted. That was precisely why I hired her.
“Mrs. Li appears to be in good spirits today,” she reported, her tone professional, even soothing. “However, she’s asked to see you again—the fourth time this week.”
I shook my head without hesitation. “No.”
The answer came quickly, before my conscience could soften. She deserved no rewards, no affection. Not after what she did.
Still, a flicker of guilt twisted inside me. The woman hadn’t set foot outside in weeks.
“Speak with Andy,” I said finally, loosening my tie. “Have her arrange something.”
Compassion. A useless, dangerous thing.
The moment it surfaced, I crushed it down. Heat rose in my chest as resentment burned through reason, my mother’s voice echoing in my mind—shrill, vicious—and the memory of her nails raking across June’s face.
“That’s wonderful news. She’ll be thrilled to see you,” Angela said lightly, clearly mistaking my pause for agreement.
I exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Actually, invite a few of her friends over for Mahjong. Have Andy pull a guest list.” I paused, as if it had just occurred to me. “And make sure her medication dosage is increased slightly. Keep her calm.”
Angela’s lips pressed into a firm line. “Yes, Li Zhong. I’ll handle it.”
“Good.”
I waved a hand to dismiss her, and she gave a curt nod before stepping back, bowing slightly as she left my office—a space no one entered without my permission.
Angela came highly recommended by a friend—a man who had survived a family empire far more toxic than mine.
He told me she had a way of handling difficult parents, the kind who thrived on control and emotional warfare.
I didn’t ask for details. I didn’t need to. She was perfect for what I needed, even if I could never explain why.
I knew she was sick—had been for years. But in her world, sickness of the mind didn’t exist. You were either sane or insane. There was no middle ground. No treatment. No redemption.
That was why she never helped Jenny.
To her, Jenny’s breakdown was self-inflicted—a weakness, not an illness.
Once you admitted you were broken, you gave the demon a name. And once the demon had a name, it owned you.
But enough was enough.
I’d put up with her madness for long enough. Her moods, her impossible standards, her manipulative games.
But the moment she laid hands on June… that was the line I could never cross again.
The memory struck me in fragments: June’s face, pale and pleading. One hand reaching for me, the other pressed against her stomach where my so-called mother’s knife had found her.
I hadn’t slept properly since that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her again—her lips forming my name in silence, begging me to help.
I should sell the penthouse.
It used to be my refuge—a space untouched by the crazy woman’s control. Now it felt cursed, a mausoleum of my failure. Even the marble floors seemed to whisper reminders of what I’d lost.
I rose from my chair, the brown leather groaning beneath me, and stretched until my neck cracked. The sound echoed faintly against the hum of the air conditioning.
From the corridor, a large silhouette appeared. Tall, broad-shouldered, moving with quiet precision. I allowed myself a small smile.
“Dave, my most trusted man,” I called. “How are you today?”
“I’m okay, boss.” His voice relaxed, but he looked different. Thinner. Sharper. The man had lost at least fifteen pounds since I last saw him.
“You sure you’re ready to be back?” I asked. “You could’ve taken another month.”
He shrugged, offering a faint grin. “Didn’t feel right sitting around while you were here alone.”
“What’s your plan today?” I asked out of habit. I never actually needed to. His plans were mine by default.
“Whatever you have in mind, boss.”
Dave’s voice carried that usual calm—a mix of soldier’s discipline and streetwise patience. The new scar across his scalp caught the light, pale against his dark skin, like a caterpillar crawling slowly across the curve of his skull.
He didn’t try to hide it, and the scar didn’t seem to bother him.
I minded.
Every time I saw that scar, it reminded me what loyalty looked like—and what my choices had cost others. Dave had followed my orders to the letter, nearly dying in the process while protecting the woman I loved.
“How about lunch out today?” I said, masking the heaviness in my chest. “I’ve been meaning to try that new place on the waterfront.”
His eyes lit faintly. “Food? You don’t have to ask twice.”
I smirked. That was Dave’s one weakness.
Feeding him was the closest thing to thanks I could offer.
“We’ll go after we stop by the office. Andy should be there soon.”
Speaking of Andy, I’d tripled her salary after what happened. Not because she asked, but because it was the right thing to do.
Her loyalty had never been in question, but gratitude, I’d learned, needed to be shown in currency, not words.
People were easy to replace.
Loyalty wasn’t.
And I was done losing the few people I trusted.
My self-imposed thirty-minute limit in this house was up. That was as long as I could stand to be here—long enough to make sure the insane lady was stable, medicated, managed… and then I was gone.
Angela handled the morning updates now—vitals, behavior, mood. If anything seemed off, she contacted Dr. Jackson directly. I didn’t even have to ask.
Jackson had been treating my cousin Jenny at the facility for years. Keeping him on my payroll gave me control—over her care, over Mom’s, over the chaos that used to swallow this family whole.
Confidentiality gets flexible when the checks clear fast enough.
I shouldn’t have wondered about June, but I did.
Every morning, she found her way back into my thoughts like the tide—steady, inevitable.
The old me would’ve sent someone to track her down. Quietly. Efficiently. Just to know where she was, what she was doing, whether she was sleeping, eating, breathing. That was how I showed I cared—through control.
But Lincoln had warned me.
Give her space, Kai. Let her breathe.
He was right. If there was even a chance that June might forgive me someday, I had to stop chasing ghosts.
I adjusted my cufflinks, the habit grounding me as I strode toward the main door, my pace brisk.
Work.
The office was the only place I could bury the noise in my head.