Chapter 5 #2
“I’ve balanced both for years,” Dannie replied. “Now it’s time to go all in.”
Lam lit a cigar and exhaled slowly. “You won’t be satisfied. Legal money is slow. And boring.”
At that moment, waiters appeared from the stairwell, moving carefully between the tables.
A steaming soup dish was placed in the center of ours, even though the starters still sat untouched.
The normal rhythm of service felt surreal against the charged silence.
And somehow, that made everything more dangerous.
Sensing the tension, the waiter left without dividing the soup into little bowls, as was customary in Chinese restaurants.
This wasn't my world. My hands were cold.
My pulse beat high in my throat. I kept them folded in my lap so no one would see the slight tremble in my fingers.
The air felt thick, difficult to draw into my lungs.
Every voice in the room sounded too loud.
Too sharp. I kept my spine straight and my chin lifted, pretending to be calm.
If they smelled fear, I knew, they'd feed on it.
“How about your other business?” Frank asked. “How do you manage that on your books? Don’t forget, we have agreements. You can’t just end them.”
“That’s one of the reasons I invited you here today,” Dannie said.
“We’ll soon transition our operations to… better ones,” he continued. “Some previous businesses—and agreements—may need to end.”
“Absolutely not,” Hong snapped. “We make good money.”
I didn’t even know which business they meant. I had always made it a point not to ask.
“We have to,” Dannie said. “For better goods. For our future.”
Frank laughed harshly and pointed his cigar at me. “This is because of her, isn’t it?” Then he stood abruptly, pointing at me. “Bat poh. Your mother didn’t teach you not to meddle in men’s affairs?”
“What did you call her?” Dannie said.
Kai didn’t say anything. But the moment Frank stood, he pushed back his chair and rose too, his eyes fixed on Frank.
I met his gaze. My Cantonese was good enough now to understand the insult—he’d just called me a cunt.
“Just remember,” he spat. “We don’t take orders from a woman.”
A gunshot cracked through the room.
Everyone froze.
At the back of the hall, Laura stood on a chair, her arm extended, the gun aimed directly at our table. “You will now,” she said clearly. Her gaze locked onto Frank. “You old fossil.”
For a second, I couldn’t move.
Laura.
The same woman who had fought me just yesterday. The same woman who had challenged my authority until Dannie stepped in. And now she was standing on a chair with a gun in her hand, defending me.
It felt like she wasn't just standing up for women. She was standing up for me. And somehow, that made it even more confusing.
Nothing in this world was simple.
The room exploded into chaos. Chairs scraped violently across the floor. Men reached beneath tables and into their jackets. Guns. Knives. Blades. Weapons appeared as if they had been waiting for permission.
“Calm down, everyone,” Hong said quickly, realizing they were outnumbered. “We’re not here to fight.”
“Sit down,” Dannie ordered.
People obeyed slowly, reluctantly, but the weapons remained on the tables—cold, visible, a promise that the argument wasn't over.
“So this is your decision?” Hong asked, his voice steady but heavy with warning. “Go legitimate. Put women in charge?”
“Yes,” Dannie said.
Still standing, he took my hand and helped me to my feet. My legs felt unsteady, but I stood anyway.
“This is Dr. June Bennet. My wife. The most intelligent, capable, impressive woman I’ve ever known.”
Frank sneered. “She looks like she belongs in my brothel.”
“Watch your mouth,” Kai snapped, his voice cutting through the air.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Frank shot back. “You may be important out there, but here? You’re nothing.”
“You might not remember, Uncle Frank,” Dannie said evenly, “but he’s the other boy who was taken that time.”
The color drained from Frank’s face. “You’re the other kid?”
“Why?” I asked, my heart pounding. “You had something to do with the kidnapping?”
I knew Dannie held more answers about that day, but I’d never pushed. It had left scars on both him and Kai.
“Don’t accuse me of that,” Frank snapped.
I remembered Auntie Five had been involved somehow—that the kidnapping had required cooperation between triads. The thought crawled over my skin. One of these elders could have played a role. But the real mastermind had never been exposed.
I glanced at Kai again.
He didn’t look right. The color had drained from his face, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond the room as if he were seeing something that wasn’t here. His hand rested on the table, fingers curled too tightly around the edge, knuckles pale.
He wasn’t just tense. He looked like he was holding back a memory—one clawing its way up from somewhere he’d buried it.
“Can we all agree we respected my grandmother?” Dannie asked.
“Yes,” Hong said.
Others murmured the same. Heads nodded across the room.
“She never hesitated to step into triad matters,” Dannie continued. “No one refused her authority. So why is it suddenly a problem now?”
“She was never officially in charge,” Hong countered.
“I think we’ve had enough talk for one day,” Dannie said. “Thank you for coming.”
Several of his men stood, forming a silent wall around the three elders and their followers. It was time for them to leave and they were escorted out.
But my mind was louder than the room. What exactly was Dannie planning?
“Dannie,” I said, leaning closer. “Please tell me what’s really going on. This isn’t you preparing for when you’re not… around, is it?”
“June…” he began.
Then the cough hit.
Violent. Deep.
He grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. I rubbed his back, panic rising fast. Kai shoved a glass of water toward him, but Dannie didn’t take it.
His knees buckled.
He collapsed, dragging the tablecloth down with him. Plates, bowls, and glasses crashed to the floor in a burst of shattering noise.
The room exploded into movement. Chairs scraped. Voices overlapped. Men rushed in from every direction, closing around him in a tight, suffocating ring of bodies.
The air vanished.
I could barely see him.
“Move!” I pushed forward, dropping to my knees. My hands went to his neck, searching for his pulse, while my other hand hovered near his chest, watching for movement—but shoulders, arms, and black suits blocked my view. There were too many people and too much noise.
“Give him space!” I shouted. “Back away!”
No one listened. Orders flew from all sides. “Lift him!” “Get water!” “Give him some ointment.” “Don’t touch him!”
As if they knew better. As if I wasn’t a doctor.
I tried again, louder and sharper. “I said back away! He needs air.” But panic had taken over the room, and panic didn’t obey reason.
His eyes were half-open but unfocused, pupils dull. “Dannie? Can you hear me?”
No response.
I shook his shoulder. Nothing.
My fingers pressed to his neck again. A pulse. Faint. Uneven. His breathing was shallow and irregular. Too shallow.
He’d been pushing himself for days. The funeral. The tension. The stress.
“This is too much for him,” I said, my voice shaking but firm. “He needs a hospital. Now.”
“No,” Squirrel said sharply. “We handle it here. You can do it.”
“Here?” I snapped. “He’s not responding!”
“We can’t call an ambulance,” he insisted. “This will bring too much attention.”
“Attention?” I stared at him. “He could die!”
“We have our own doctor,” someone shouted.
“Call an ambulance,” I said again.
“No,” Squirrel repeated, his jaw locked. “It makes us look bad. Weak.”
“He’s a person, not a reputation,” I shouted.
Kai stood abruptly, already pulling out his phone. “I’m calling.”
Squirrel turned, eyes blazing. “Don’t—”
Kai ignored him. “Emergency—”
Squirrel’s fist connected with his face. The crack of the punch cut through the noise. Kai stumbled backward, his phone dropping from his hand.