Chapter 3
June
I changed out of the white mourning clothes—the traditional garments reserved for family—and felt an almost desperate need to leave the funeral home.
After the morning’s chaos and that first unexpected meeting with Kai and Lucy, the day had dissolved into an endless procession of faces and condolences.
People I didn’t know. Names I would never remember.
If Dannie hadn’t been there, I would have drowned in awkward silences.
His effortless charm carried us through conversation after conversation, and I stayed close to him whenever I could.
It gave me something to do with my hands, somewhere to rest my eyes.
Besides, even if he showed nothing, losing his grandmother and aunt on the same day couldn’t have been easy.
I’d shaken hands with people from every corner of society—Hong Kong’s elite, celebrities, senior police officers, politicians.
Even officials from other countries had flown in to pay their respects.
I couldn’t help wondering just how far the reach of a “small” triad family really went—or whether the Mafia operated the same way.
“Come on. Are you ready?” Dannie’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I flinched.
“Yes.” I nodded quickly. “Are you sure we won’t get into trouble for leaving?”
He almost choked on a laugh. “No.”
I huffed out a breath. “Right. Silly question. Who would dare give you trouble?”
A faint smile touched his lips, tired but real, and he wrapped an arm around me as we headed for the exit.
The building was eerily quiet now, a stark contrast to the noise and crowds from earlier.
His people carrier waited outside. Squirrel—his right-hand man—slid the door open and closed it firmly behind us once we were inside.
From the driver’s seat, Squirrel passed a paper box back to Dannie.
“Hungry?” Dannie asked, peeking inside. His eyes lit up.
“No,” I answered right away. I was too exhausted to eat.
He held a buttered bun near my mouth. “Try a bite.”
I took one bite—and then another, bigger one. Warm, soft, slightly sweet. My stomach twisted with sudden awareness, and I grabbed the bun from his hand.
“Okay… this is really good.”
“Of course. Best pineapple buns in the world,” he declared, already reaching for one himself.
He didn’t say much after that. He hadn’t said much since telling me about the deaths. The silence around him felt heavy, like grief had settled into his bones.
I hadn’t hesitated when he asked me to come to Hong Kong, even though it meant leaving my child in Malaysia with his godmother, Stephanie. Some decisions didn’t feel like a choice.
The car slowed, then stopped—but we weren’t at Dannie’s apartment. My breath caught as I recognized the grand entrance ahead.
“Are we staying here?” I asked quietly, staring at the hotel as memories of his touch rose, vivid and unwelcome.
“No.”
Dannie stepped out as Squirrel opened the door from the outside.
“You have business to attend to?”
“Something like that.”
He held out his hand. I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. My body felt heavier than usual, as if the past were clinging to my skin.
I held on to him, to the promise I’d made—to be his partner in life. Being beside him was the only thing that kept me steady, that made the world feel less threatening. The way he looked at me—like I mattered, like I was worth something—was what got me out of bed each morning.
He made me feel seen. Chosen.
But as we walked toward his suite, my heart began to race. The hallway smelled the same. The lighting hadn’t changed. Memories I’d fought to bury clawed their way back, sharp and relentless. I edged closer to him, pressing into his warmth, hoping it would anchor me in the present.
When he knocked, panic fluttered in my chest. The door opened.
Kai stood there.
My heart lurched into my throat. Instinctively, I leaned into Dannie, my head resting against his shoulder as if I could hide there.
His arm slipped around my waist, steadying me, holding me upright like I might collapse. I glanced around the suite.
Nothing had changed. Same layout. Same furniture. Only the scattered luggage and personal items marked the difference.
“Sorry, I know it’s late.” Dannie brushed a soft kiss over my forehead. “Why don’t you lie down for a bit?”
We sat on the couch in the center of the living room.
The same couch.
I swallowed. “It’s been a long day,” I murmured, the excuse thin even to my own ears. It had been longer for him, and he hadn’t complained once. I just didn’t want to be here.
Kai took the armchair opposite us, the space between the three of us thick with things unsaid.
“Do you want me to order something? Room service?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
“No,” Dannie answered at once.
I shook my head, mirroring him. “Where are Lucy and Huan Huan?” I managed, my voice thinner than I intended.
“Asleep in the bedroom,” Kai said, gesturing toward the closed door—the same bedroom we had once shared. “So—”
“So—” Dannie echoed, the word hanging heavily in the air. “You read the letter?”
The envelope. I’d almost forgotten about it. My mind raced with possibilities—documents, photos, proof of secrets buried for decades. It seemed that powerful men had a shared pastime: collecting information on everyone else.
“Yes. But I don’t understand…” Kai frowned, his gaze fixed on Dannie as if answers might be written across his face. “When did you get this?”
“Last night,” Dannie answered. “Grandma’s personal assistant gave it to me.”
“What do you think it means?”
Dannie let out a quiet breath. “Isn’t it obvious? My father had an affair with your mother. There’s a chance we’re related.”
“I got that part—” Kai began.
“What?” The word tore out of me before I could stop it. My hand flew to my mouth as the room seemed to tilt, like a wave crashing over me and dragging me under.
“How is that even possible?” Kai cut in.
“Why not?” Dannie said, his tone calm but firm. “Your parents knew my aunt, remember? It’s not that strange that my father knew your mother too.”
My thoughts tangled, sharp and frantic. “What exactly did the letter say?” I asked, unable to keep the urgency from my voice. Curiosity twisted inside me, hungry and afraid all at once.
I placed my hand on Dannie’s thigh, grounding myself—and reminding both of us where I stood, who he was to me.
“My dad left me a letter before he died,” Dannie said quietly. “In case something happened to him.” He paused, eyes searching mine. “And it seems Grandma kept it from me all these years.”
“Do you want to read it?” Kai offered, clearly unconcerned whether Dannie would approve.
I opened my mouth to say no. The word formed, but my voice refused to obey.
“Here.” Kai leaned forward and held out the folded paper as if the weight of it didn’t threaten to change everything between them—or all of us.
My son,
If you are reading this, it means I no longer have the chance to say these words to you myself. That is my first failure.
Men like us believe we control everything—money, territory, loyalty, fear. But life does not bow to power. It moves in silence, in shadows, in moments of carelessness we convince ourselves do not matter.
I have carried this truth alone for most of my life. Your grandmother believed it was safer buried. I told myself I was protecting you. Only now do I understand that silence can be its own kind of cowardice.
You have a brother.
Not one of the men who calls you “brother” out of loyalty.
Not someone tied by oath or blood spilled in battle.
A real one.
His name is Kai Li.
Years ago, before you were old enough to understand the kind of world we lived in, your mother and I attended gatherings where powerful people played at freedom—where vows meant little and consequences meant less. We told ourselves it was harmless. We told ourselves we were untouchable.
That night was meant to be no different.
I was careless.
I was arrogant.
I believed nothing could touch my life outside those walls.
I was wrong.
Months later, I learned a child had been born. I made inquiries quietly. The timing, the bloodline, the truth—it was undeniable. He was mine.
I watched from a distance.
I told myself it was mercy not to step into his life. Your grandmother insisted exposure would ruin too many lives—yours, his, the balance of families, the fragile peace between people who should never be tied together. She made me promise.
So I became a coward twice.
Once as a man.
Once as a father.
Kai grew up believing another man was his father. You grew up never knowing you had a brother walking the same earth, breathing the same air, carrying my blood.
I do not know whether this truth will give you strength or break something inside you. I only know that you deserved honesty, and he deserved acknowledgment.
Whatever you feel after reading this—anger, betrayal, disgust—you have the right to it. Direct it at me, not at him. He is innocent in this. As you were.
If there is any redemption left for me, it is in hoping that the two sons I failed in different ways might choose not to fail each other.
Blood creates enemies easily in our world.
Let it create family, for once.
—Your father
Fuck.
Could this be real?
I stared at the thick, crisp paper, at the ink slightly faded with time. The idea that Dannie’s parents had attended private parties didn’t shock me. What people like them did behind closed doors wasn’t my concern.
But this? This felt impossible.
“Did your grandmother leave you anything else?” Kai’s voice pulled me out of the fog.
Dannie nodded once. “Probably. We’ll find out when the will is read after the funeral,” he said sharply.
“Did she leave any message with her assistant?” I asked, softer, trying my luck.
“Just an apology for not telling me the truth. So… no. Nothing useful.”
“Why did she hide the letter?” Kai pressed.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Dannie’s voice rose. “She didn’t want me to know my father had another son. She didn’t want the world to know. She didn’t want some bastard showing up to claim what she believed was mine.”