The Answer I Deserved
I didn't want to keep talking to Cassian Vance. After heading downstairs, I called Nolan Kane.
When he answered, I briefed him on everything I'd discovered about Adrian Cross using Buddha's Hand's account to track us.
He listened, then laughed coldly. "No wonder Adrian Cross kept finding you. The Emperor mentioned this to me before—now it all makes sense. He was tracking you through Buddha's Hand's phone. Simple enough—I'll have the account terminated immediately. He won't be able to find us that way anymore."
"Is my mission considered complete?"
"Considered done for now. Come find me when you're back in The Badlands."
I hung up—but instead of heading back to the dock, I walked toward Goldbridge Street.
Adrian Cross...
You set a trap for me. Why shouldn't I set one for you?
My primary mission was investigating Buddha's Hand, true. But I hadn't given up on Nora Hale.
Adrian Cross had indeed gone to Goldbridge Street. When I found them, I hid behind a parked car and observed. He couldn't risk taking Nora Hale into a dangerous situation—he pointed to a late-night diner nearby. "Go wait in there. Stay where it's crowded!"
Nora Hale said anxiously, "You hurry back!"
She looked around nervously, then entered the diner.
It was a place serving stir-fries, dumplings, congee, and other late-night fare. Two shop fronts connected by a knocked-through wall—you could enter from either side.
Nora Hale went through the left door. I went through the right.
Through the opening in the wall, I could observe her from behind.
She was clearly terrified I might appear at any moment, so she sat at one of the large round tables. A server came over and said politely, "Miss, this table is for parties of ten or more. We have smaller tables—"
I understood why she'd chosen it—big tables were easier to escape from or defend against.
She snapped, "I'll sit where I want. Are you going to refuse a customer?"
"I'm just saying, the smaller tables are—"
"You're so annoying. I'm only staying for a minute. As if I'd willingly sit in this dump. If I weren't waiting for someone, you'd never catch me in a place like this..." She tugged at her dress. "Your chairs are covered in grease—you're ruining my Dior!"
A few other customers nearby snickered.
"Calling it Dior... what a poser."
"Don't mind her, probably drunk."
Nora Hale's face darkened. "Who are you calling a poser? Can't rich people eat at places like this? Does poverty limit your imagination?"
She held up her car keys, the Porsche logo unmistakable.
Interesting. She'd lost her house but kept her car? A Porsche was that important to her?
It was probably her last status symbol.
Seeing she actually drove a Porsche, the other customers fell silent.
Nora Hale was so worked up from arguing that she didn't notice she was standing in someone's way. An older waitress, struggling with a heavy bowl of fish soup, said politely, "Miss, could you please move aside?"
The bowl was enormous—the waitress was clearly straining under its weight, walking faster as she spoke.
"Hey! Don't touch me! Stop!"
Nora Hale tried to sidestep but knocked into a chair, banging her leg.
Her temper exploded. "Shit! What is your problem?"
The waitress blinked, confused. "I'm sorry... what did you say?"
Nora Hale pointed at her, screaming, "Are you stupid or something at your age? If you'd damaged my outfit, could you even afford to replace it? You're too old to be working—your children must be failures. No wonder, you look brainless. Your kids probably aren't smart either."
One of the men from earlier couldn't hold back. "You think you're so smart?"
Nora Hale dangled her keys again. "I am smart. That's why I earn half a million a year. That's why I drive a Porsche Macan. That's why my mother doesn't have to work at her age—she's living comfortably."
Someone whispered to his companion, "What's a Porsche?"
"It's a luxury car brand."
"Then why did she say it in English?"
"Who knows. Don't mind her—probably just a cigarette lighter that looks like a key fob."
That offhand comment sent Nora Hale into a rage. "What lighter? When the person I'm waiting for gets here, I'll drive over and show you it's a real car!"
I didn't understand why she kept code-switching between Chinese and English. I'd met people who did that naturally, when English expressed a concept more precisely or when a foreign brand name was commonly used in English—like calling the convenience store "Seven Eleven" instead of "Seven-One-One."
But Nora Hale's forced code-switching was unlike anything I'd seen.
Watching her swagger and preen, I thought of Ethan Cole's uncle.
The man had been poor once. During the boom times, he'd made his fortune manufacturing universal cell phone chargers and became worth tens of millions. Then he'd poured everything into expanding, dreaming of becoming the "charger king"—but smartphones killed his business overnight.
After bankruptcy, he'd drink with anyone who'd listen.
"Back when I was a boss..." he'd say, over and over.
Truth was, he said it sober too. He couldn't stand being thought ordinary. He needed people to know he'd once been someone special.
Nora Hale reminded me of him.
She sat at her table, waiting for Adrian Cross. Then her phone rang. She answered eagerly: "Hello... yes, it's me. Has your company made a decision? Oh my god... why? I've already volunteered to lower my commission rate. Don't you know my track record?"
"This isn't about business being difficult—business being difficult is exactly why you need me! Do you have any idea what I accomplished at my old company? I produced five different proposals in two days and closed the Dalong Village project! You can't not know about that."
"It's not like I came to you on my own—President Chen said he wanted me to try. I'm doing him this favor by going through the motions... ordinary people can't hire me. I'm only going because of President Chen's face, and you're holding me up?"
Everything she'd achieved had been built on Yvonne Kane's behind-the-scenes work—now she was claiming it as her own personal triumph.
"I really was pre-introduced by President Chen... don't talk to anyone else! I specifically made time for this, and now you're telling me you'll consider others? Fine—I'll come over in person. I'll also call President Chen and talk to him."
My ears perked up.
Adrian Cross had just told her not to leave the crowded area.
This woman was about to deliver herself right to me.
Sure enough, Nora Hale stood up. "Alright, I'm heading over now. Twenty minutes. Tell the lobby guard—black Macan, plate ending in 1888. OK, no problem!"
I couldn't help but laugh.
If Nora Hale wouldn't follow Adrian Cross's orders, that was her problem, not mine.
I shadowed her out of the diner. She was still on the phone, completely oblivious to my presence.
On the dark street, she made another call, her voice turning syrupy: "President Chen, didn't you say that position was reserved for me? Manager Peng just called and said they're considering others. My proposals were perfectly fine—the problem must be on their end. Just push them to finalize my transfer, and we can discuss the details at our leisure."
She reached her car and pulled out her keys.
The moment she unlocked it, I considered just going in for the attack.
But then a shout came from behind: "Stop posturing! You have zero class! You drive a Porsche and you think you're god's gift?"
Nora Haley spun around, furious.
The customers from the diner had gotten into their Honda and were yelling at her as they drove off.
Nora Hale stomped toward them, screaming, "I drive a Porsche and that makes me better than all of you! Richer than all of you! You'll be jealous forever—you'll never touch a Porsche!"
Hmm. Earlier it was "Porsche," but now that she was angry she was shouting the Chinese equivalent. So the English was just forced after all.
Her argument gave me the perfect window.
While she screamed at the Honda, I slipped into the back seat of her car and closed the door quietly.
A moment later, Nora Hale got in, phone to her ear. "President Chen, the position won't go to someone else, right? Let me tell you, I've invested so much in this—if it doesn't go to me, I'll tell your wife about us. I'm not threatening you, I just think a man should keep his word. Do you know how many birth control pills I've taken for you?"
She had no idea I was hiding behind the passenger seat.
I wasn't ready to act yet. Let her drive further away first—more distance meant more opportunity.
Nora Hale truly was a woman of many faces.
On the first call to Manager Peng, she'd been polite and deferential. To President Chen, she was a mix of flirtation and threat. Now, on a third call, her voice turned icy with fury: "The proposal got rejected! You useless idiot! I gave you all that money, and I can't even pass my probation!"
She was on speakerphone since she was driving. The person on the other end said weakly, "Before, Yvonne always reviewed the proposals first..."
"Yvonne is dead! Are you saying we can't function without her?" Nora Hale snarled. "I'm heading to the office now. I'll pretend to go to the bathroom and text you the clients' feedback, and you tell me how to fix this proposal. We need to hold onto this job!"
"Okay..."
"Useless!"
She hung up violently.
The car had traveled some distance from the diner.
I sighed and said, "If you can't win a job on your own merits, why fight so hard for it?"
Nora Hale flinched so hard she nearly swerved off the road.
She slammed the brakes and whirled around, staring at me in terror.
I continued: "You sleep with your boss to get ahead, you hire ghostwriters for proposals—you've never earned a single position honestly. Yvonne did all the real work behind the scenes. Has anything ever been genuinely yours?"
She was shaking. She lunged for the door handle.
"Don't bother," I said calmly. "You can't outrun me."
She didn't listen. She flung the door open and tried to bolt.
In a flash, I grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back inside.
Nora Hale shrieked, her nails slashing wildly at me. "I already apologized! I said I was sorry to Yvonne!"
I said quietly, "Are your apologies so precious? Do the words 'I'm sorry' somehow equal another person's entire life?"
Her screams filled the small car.
I seized her head and slammed it into the steering wheel.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three strikes and she was dazed, blood gushing from her nose.
Her hair was a mess. She gasped for air, blood dripping from her chin—no trace of the powerful businesswoman remained.
I got out, walked around to the driver's side, and kicked her in the head.
She crumpled into the passenger seat. I took the wheel and drove toward where I'd left my car.
When we reached my car, I said, "I'm sorry—my car is an ordinary brand. Probably doesn't meet your standards."
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
Nora Hale lunged at me. I punched her in the face first, and while she was stunned, drove my knee into her stomach. She doubled over—I brought my elbow down hard on her back.
She crumpled to the ground, finished.
"Please... let me go. I have money... I can give you so much money," she whimpered.
I frowned. "That's strange. You seem to think your apologies are worth so much. I just said I'm sorry to you—what's the proper response?"
She stared blankly.
Then: "It... it doesn't matter?"
I kicked her in the face.
She rolled in agony. I said coldly, "You're an educated professional. You can't even say 'no problem' in Chinese? You deserve this beating, don't you?"
"I deserve it..."
I nodded, then hauled her into the passenger seat and buckled her in.
As I drove, she sobbed: "Where are you taking me? I don't want to die... please, I really know I was wrong. I'll never do it again. Can't you give me one chance to change?"
I said, "I'm sorry, but that won't be happening. I have no interest in killing you. So here's a question: I said 'I'm sorry' again. What's the correct response?"
"No problem..."
I backhanded her across the face. "Someone with a basic education can't even say 'it doesn't matter' in her own language? You deserve this, don't you?"
"I deserve it..."
Nora Haley covered her face, weeping.
I took her phone and tossed it out the window. "Take off all your clothes. Underwear too. Throw everything outside."
I couldn't risk a tracking device—not with Adrian Cross as my opponent.
She cried as she undressed. I checked her for devices, then checked myself.
Clean.
I grabbed spare clothes from my trunk and tossed them to her. She dressed miserably.
When we reached the dock, I drove the car onto the ferry.
She broke down completely. "Where are you taking me! And can you stop hitting me?"
"I'm sorry. You only get hit because you deserve it. One last question—I said 'I'm sorry.' What's the proper response?"
She hesitated, then blurted: "It doesn't matter! No problem! I'll say both!"
I kicked her in the head one final time—hard. "The correct answer is: 'I already apologized, what more do you want from me!' Every response I was looking for came from your own mouth, and you couldn't even produce them. Tell me—do you deserve every bit of this?"
"I deserve it! I'm trash! I deserve all of it! Please stop hitting me!"
I nodded, satisfied, and closed the door.
Outmaneuvering Adrian Cross gave me a strange satisfaction.
I locked the car and walked to the ferry's railing, letting the sea breeze hit my face.
Cold.
Getting colder.
By the time the ferry reached the dock, dawn was breaking.
I stretched and yawned—then froze.
Cassian Vance was standing at the dock, holding a bag.
As the ferry docked, I gave him an awkward nod. "What a coincidence."
"Not a coincidence. I waited all night."
"What?"
"I asked Juniper. You never went to her place."
"I..." I bit my lip. "So? Are you here to lecture me?"
Cassian Vance reached out and pulled me into his arms.
He patted my rear gently. "Disobedient children get spanked."
"You waited all night just to punish me?"
"The forecast said it would get cold today..." He pulled a jacket from the bag. "Put this on."
He wrapped the jacket around me, pulling me close against him.
My heart was pounding.
I whispered, "You waited all night... just for this?"
He nibbled my ear. "Let's go home and sleep together. Please... I missed you so much. I can't sleep without you."