Henry James, a private in the United States military and a recipient of the Army Commendation Medal, had just touched down in Malaysia. He wasn't there to serve his country, he was there for something or rather, someone far more selfish, Carol Monroe. Or so he told himself.
"Tch, this bitch again?" he muttered under his breath as he checked the caller ID. "Was hoping I could score some hot ones while I'm here."
Still, he answered the call, his tone switching to saccharine sweetness. "Sup, baby girl."
"Babe! Are you in Malaysia yet?" Carol Monroe's voice came through the line with exaggerated distress.
Henry replied smoothly, not quite caring. That was, until Carol revealed what was bothering her.
"You're telling me some nobody just walked into the Monroe household, got Jhon Monroe's approval, and is now engaged to your cousin Ryona?"
Carol feigned tears over the phone. Henry clenched his teeth. He wasn't upset over Carol. It was Ryona Monroe that stirred something in him, not love, but lust. Her southern charm, brunette curls, and curvaceous body had always been a temptation he could never indulge in. Until now.
"Just relax, babe. I'm on my way," he said before hanging up quickly. He jumped into the nearest cab and ordered the driver to speed toward the Monroe estate.
Back at the mansion, Shen found himself inside what used to be Ryona's childhood bedroom. Now it was Carol's. The diamond chandelier still hung from the ceiling, and the walls echoed faint memories of their past. The wooden bed carved from rare Russian timber stood unchanged.
"Funny, huh?"
He turned to see Ryona at the doorway, her voice a soft melody laced in her southern drawl. She walked in slowly, looking at everything, but her eyes were hollow.
"Ryona?" Shen stepped forward.
She didn't answer. Her silence spoke louder than words. Shen came up behind her and gently wrapped his arms around her waist.
Her white, off-shoulder crop top left her midriff bare, and her light gray shorts clung high on her hips. She had the look of someone strong yet weathered, the kind of southern woman not to be touched, but to be protected.
"Ryona... how did you endure all of this? Why didn't you call me?"
She leaned back slightly into him, sighing. "Oh, sugar. You never gave me your number. Back then, when you were seventeen and I was sixteen, I told you to disappear and focus on yourself. And that's exactly what you did."
He remembered that stormy night vividly, the way rain battered down as he left the Tucker estate. Ryona had met him halfway with her umbrella and helped carry his luggage, soaking wet, yet smiling for him.
Thanks to a woman named Rumi Takana, a Japanese calligraphy master in her fifties, Shen had begun a new life. She saw something in him, a gift the Tuckers ignored. Rumi became one of his many mentors across the world who shaped him into the man he was now.
"You should freshen up, Shen," Ryona said softly. "Dinner's at seven. Carol's fiancé just got back from America. Supposed to be joinin' us tonight."
Shen nodded and smiled. He reached up and ruffled her hair.
"Hey… stop that," she scolded, swatting his hand.
"Can't help it. You're still cute as always."
She tried to hide her blush, but Shen knew her too well. That spark between them still lingered.
At 6 p.m., Henry James arrived at the Monroe mansion. He paid his cab fare and strutted up to the front entrance, his military uniform crisp and polished. Carol launched herself into his arms, giggling like a schoolgirl. Her mother, Foni Monroe, followed behind with her usual performative pride.
Jhon Monroe stood at a distance, observing them without expression.
Then the doors opened again. Shen Goddem stepped into the hallway, casually refined, his posture cool and commanding. Henry's eyes locked onto Ryona and just like that, Carol no longer existed to him.
He bypassed Shen completely and took Ryona's hand, planting a kiss on her knuckles.
"You're as beautiful as ever, Miss Ryona Monroe."
Ryona stiffened. His flirtation wasn't charming, it was revolting. She knew exactly what Henry wanted, and it wasn't love. It was possession.
Shen coughed lightly, drawing Henry's gaze.
"You're Shen Tucker, right?" Henry asked smugly. "Heard a lot about you. Mostly about being a disappointment."
Carol and Foni giggled behind him.
Shen didn't flinch. He folded his arms and raised a brow. "Commendation medal. I see."
Henry grinned and lifted it proudly in front of Shen's face. "That's right. Pity they don't hand those out to the failures."
Jhon Monroe's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Sir," Shen turned to Jhon. "I've read somewhere that Commendation Medals are rather mid-tier awards. Isn't that right?"
Jhon grinned, catching Shen's drift.
"Indeed, lad. The highest is the Medal of Honor. Rare. Only about three thousand recipients in history. That's the one earned by true heroes."
"Exactly," Shen said calmly. "That one is worn with humility. Not flashed around like a cheap necklace."
Henry's face darkened. "You mocking me, brat?"
Their stares collided. Sparks of tension danced in the room. Shen's hands clenched into fists.
"Shen, please," Ryona whispered, touching his arm.
He looked at her, then exhaled deeply, letting the rage dissipate. "Alright."
Jhon Monroe broke the tension. "Dinner's ready. Let's head to the table."
Everyone started moving. Ryona clutched Shen's arm, but he stopped.
"You go on ahead. I have a call to make." He pinched her nose gently with a grin. She giggled, then left.
Shen took out his phone and dialed Xin Yin Jin.
"Ah, boss," her voice came through, smooth as always. She was in France, attending a corporate gala in his place.
"Am I troubling you, beautiful?"
She chuckled. "Oh hush now, Mr. Goddem. You're making this old lady blush."
"You? Still fresh as a spring breeze." They both laughed, but Shen's voice turned serious.
"I need a favor. Find everything on Henry James. US Private. Anything you can get."
Xin Yin Jin sipped wine as string music played in the ballroom. "Give me five minutes. I'll link with a few command contacts."
"Thanks, Yin."
Minutes later, a secure message arrived. Shen's eyes scanned the contents. His brow furrowed.
"Dishonor upon the uniform," he muttered.
Now he had all the ammunition he needed. He tucked the phone away, straightened his collar, and walked toward the dining room.
Dinner would be served with truth, and a side of humiliation.
---
Chapter 4 — End.