Chapter 5
June
By the time the meeting ended, the funeral was over.
I hadn’t even had the chance to properly say goodbye to his grandmother or Auntie Five.
I hadn’t known either of them well, but his grandmother had always been kind to me from the very beginning.
Auntie Five… whenever I saw her, she was either tipsy or asleep somewhere she probably shouldn’t have been.
Still, not saying goodbye sat heavily in my chest.
Squirrel drove Kai and me to an old restaurant in a run-down part of town I’d never explored. The place was loud and packed. Every table downstairs was occupied, people queued outside, and orders were shouted back and forth between staff like a well-rehearsed storm.
He led us across a yellow-stained floor toward the back, then up a narrow staircase.
Upstairs was larger—maybe they’d taken over the neighboring units—but it still felt cramped.
Thirty, maybe forty tables squeezed into the space, leaving barely enough room for the waiters to weave between them.
The air was thick with food, voices, cigarette smoke drifting in from somewhere nearby, and the relentless heat of too many bodies packed together.
My chest tightened. Too many people. Too little air. At the front stood a small stage decorated with the red character for double happiness—a wedding banquet setup.
The sight tugged at an old memory—an old, dingy restaurant in New York’s Chinatown.
The first place my brothers had ever snuck me to as a teenager.
My first outing without our parents. My mother had been furious when she found out.
Lincoln and Liam took the blame. I was sent to bed, confused about why everyone was so angry.
I spotted Dannie at a table in the center of the room.
Without thinking, I moved toward him. Heads turned as I passed.
Eyes followed me, scanning, measuring. Dannie greeted me, asked a few polite questions, then gestured for Squirrel to take Kai and me to our seats.
We ended up side by side at a table directly in front of the stage.
What a strange setup. It would’ve made sense if we were a couple celebrating something. But we weren’t. I had accepted our breakup. Our distance. He wasn’t mine. I wasn’t his. Still, sitting beside Kai, so visible to everyone in the room, felt wrong.
Unlike the events I used to attend, there were hardly any women here. No wives in designer dresses. No polite small talk. No carefully rehearsed smiles.
Just men. Hard faces. Heavy watches. Scarred knuckles. Eyes that noticed everything.
Dishes began appearing across the room. Our table was among the first to be served—a large platter holding five different dishes, arranged with the precision of a traditional banquet.
I recognized the style immediately. Course after course—eight or nine, usually—would keep coming until no one could possibly eat another bite.
This was just the beginning.
Dannie walked over as the food arrived. “Do you mind?” he asked, standing between Kai and me.
“Here. Take my seat.” I shifted over, offering him mine. “You can take my tea. I don’t want it.”
A small, bitter part of me wondered why Dannie had insisted Kai and I work together when something as simple as me sitting beside him clearly unsettled him.
Dannie nodded, then waved a waitress over. “Could we get some mineral water here?”
Exactly what I always ordered at dinners. The familiarity of it stung.
“Everything go all right at the meeting?” he asked, methodically wiping his chopsticks with a napkin before moving on to his bowl and plate. When he reached for the cutlery in front of me, I blinked.
“You talking to me?”
“Both of you.”
“Fine,” Kai answered.
I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest. “No,” I said at the same time.
Dannie turned to me, his expression softening. “What’s the problem, honey?”
“I don’t know what my role is,” I admitted.
I understood that he needed help with the company, but I still didn’t see where I fit.
Everything already seemed handled. I signed papers.
Listened to executives explain plans I barely understood.
Nodded. Approved things. Kai would take care of the real business decisions.
“Just be pretty,” Dannie said lightly.
The words landed exactly where they were meant to. I knew he was joking. I knew he didn't mean to hurt me.
They still did.
“But—” I started. I could help with the business. I wanted to help. I’d told him that so many times before. I just never meant the triad.
Before I could continue, three older men approached the table.
Dannie stood immediately. The change in him was subtle, but I noticed it.
He greeted them with an easy smile, shaking their hands and exchanging a few light words as though their arrival were nothing out of the ordinary.
Then he guided them toward their seats with the effortless courtesy reserved for honored guests.
Uncle Hong. Uncle Lam. Uncle Frank.
The man I thought was Uncle Hong wore a gray traditional long jacket. His eyes settled on me with a faint smile that sent a chill straight through me.
The other two barely looked my way, as if I were nothing more than decoration at the table.
“Do you know them?” I leaned closer and whispered to Kai. His eyebrow twitched.
When Dannie returned to his seat, his back was straighter. His movements were precise as he poured tea into each elder’s cup with both hands—a gesture of respect. The relaxed warmth he’d worn earlier had vanished.
The noise of the restaurant seemed to dull around us, as though our table existed inside a separate pocket of air. The three old men watched him without blinking.
A silent challenge. A test.
After a long moment, Dannie rose and gave a shallow bow. “Uncles,” he said evenly, his voice carrying just far enough to reach the nearby tables, “thank you for coming today. My grandmother and Auntie Five were pillars of our family. Your presence honors them.
“I’ve also heard certain rumors,” he continued, his gaze steady. “Talk that my family is divided. That my triad is unstable. That I’ve lost control.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
“Let me make this clear. There is no internal conflict. No fracture. Our house stands as it always has. Any stories suggesting otherwise are false—and disrespectful.
“We have long respected the boundaries. Territories agreed upon. Understandings honored.” His eyes settled on the elders. “I expect that respect to continue.”
A younger man behind one of the elders leaned forward. “Then how did Dai Ka Jeh die?”
The bald man beside him gave a slow nod, as though approving the question. The room stirred. Voices rose from every direction, questions overlapping as the men pressed for answers.
Dannie raised one hand. The noise died almost immediately.
“Heart attack.”
No one looked convinced.
Dannie slammed his palm against the table. Porcelain rattled. “You think I haven’t suspected foul play in their deaths?”
The room went still. No one challenged him directly.
“We noticed your absence last year,” he said mildly. The other two nodded. “Young people like this modern idea of…” He raised his hand, making air quotes with his fingers. “Work-life balance.”
His lips curved faintly. “Time off. A softer life. But that doesn’t suit men in our position.”
“I don’t recall my absence causing problems for your people,” Dannie replied. “Squirrel oversaw operations.”
“Squirrel?” The old man scoffed. “That animal? What does he know about running triad affairs?” His walking stick struck the floor. The sound was insignificant. The motion wasn't. A few men at nearby tables looked away.
“It’s not your concern how I run my house,” Dannie said, his voice dropping lower. “Stay in your lane.”
The elders laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“Don’t be na?ve, son,” one said. “The moment you left Hong Kong, your people started testing limits.”
Dannie didn’t respond. For the first time, I regretted coming here. This wasn’t just any dinner—it could end in tears.
And blood.
“And have they ever bothered you, Uncle Hong?” Dannie asked at last, his voice calm but edged.
“How dare you!” Hong’s bark was enough to send half the room to its feet. Chairs scraped violently against the floor. Men moved. Hands disappeared beneath jackets. But they froze when Hong lifted one hand.
“You expect us to believe you didn’t know what your people have been doing?”
Dannie lifted both palms slightly, a silent signal.
Slowly, reluctantly, the men sat again.
“Uncles,” Dannie said, his voice low and measured, “you’ve been around long enough to understand how this works. People test the edges. They steal what they can.” His gaze moved across the table. “Whether I’m here or away doesn’t change that.”
“We want new territory,” Hong said.
The demand landed like a verdict.
“Well,” Dannie replied evenly, “we’ll discuss it properly. Just not today. My grandmother just passed. Surely you haven’t forgotten that.”
The elders exchanged murmurs. Frank leaned toward them, whispering. After a moment, he straightened.
“We’ll give you a few days,” he said.
His gaze shifted to me.
“And don’t run off on another honeymoon. We all know how much you love your pretty wife.”
That was when I noticed it. The faint scar cutting down his face. The glassy stillness of one eye. A fake eye.
Cold crept beneath my skin. Without thinking, I slipped my hand into Dannie’s. His fingers closed around mine immediately.
Lam pointed at Kai. “Who is this? I thought you said no outsiders.”
“You don’t recognize him?” Dannie chuckled lightly. “You should keep up with current affairs, Uncle.”
“Should we?” Hong asked, his voice rising slightly. “He doesn’t look like one of us.”
“Chinese billionaire. Based in Shanghai,” Dannie said.
“A legitimate businessman?” Hong pressed.
“Yes.” Dannie’s mouth curved. “Because some of us are moving away from crime.”
Their laughter spread through the room like smoke.
“We all thought that once,” Frank said. “It never works. Ask the old generations.”