The kitchen in the Su Villa felt like a steam bath hot, sticky, and heavy with the smell of frying oil and Zhang Li's shrill voice.
"Ye Chen! Are the abalones done? Young Master Zhao is our guest of honor! If you mess up dinner with those clumsy beggar hands, you'll be out with the dogs tonight!"
Ye Chen didn't bother looking up. He adjusted the stove, hands scarred and steady, working with a focus nobody in this house ever noticed. "Almost ready, Mother."
"Don't you dare call me that! You're a stain on this family's floorboards," Zhang Li snapped. She smoothed her silk qipao and swept out, heels clicking toward the dining room.
Ye Chen wiped sweat from his brow. Three years as the Su family's so-called trash son-in-law, cleaning toilets, cooking, swallowing every insult for Su Yan's sake. She was the only person who'd seen something in him besides a stray dog, back when he first stumbled into this city, broken and hunted from the capital.
He finished plating the food and walked out.
The dining room looked like something out of a magazine, everything gold and glass, shining and sharp. Su Yan sat at the head of the table, beautiful but so tired her eyes barely seemed to focus. Next to her, Zhao Wei lounged with a smug grin, his watch probably worth more than Ye Chen would ever make in ten lifetimes.
"Ah, here comes the servant," Zhao Wei said, sticking out his foot as Ye Chen passed.
Ye Chen tripped, the plate of abalone nearly crashing to the floor. He caught himself, but a single drop of sauce splattered onto Zhao Wei's Italian leather shoe.
Silence.
Then, smack. Zhang Li appeared out of nowhere, her palm burning across Ye Chen's cheek. "You useless pig! You know what those shoes cost? More than your entire bloodline ever will!"
Zhao Wei shrugged, acting generous. "It's alright, Auntie." His eyes glittered meanly as he wiped the shoe with a napkin, then tossed the sauce-stained cloth onto Ye Chen's head. "He's just a dog. No point beating a dog for being clumsy. Just remind him where he belongs."
That was it for Su Yan. She pushed her chair back, the legs scraping across the floor. "Enough! Zhao Wei, he's my husband."
"Husband?" Su Tang finally spoke, voice cold enough to freeze the room. "He's a shackle around your neck, Yan'er. The Su Group is thirty million in the hole. Young Master Zhao's offering to save us, but there's a catch."
Ye Chen felt a chill crawl down his spine. He looked at Su Yan, saw the tears welling up, her face white as paper.
"The divorce papers are in the study," Su Tang said, staring at Ye Chen like he was dirt on his shoe. "Sign them. Leave this city. Never come back. Do this for Su Yan, and maybe we'll let you walk away in one piece."
Zhao Wei leaned back, flashing a smug grin. "Come on, Ye Chen. Sign the papers. Maybe I'll even let you keep that sauce-stained napkin as a keepsake."
Ye Chen glanced around the table. Greed. Cruelty. Arrogance. That's all he saw in their eyes. Then his gaze landed on Su Yan.
"Is this really what you want?" His voice came out steadier than he felt.
Su Yan's lip trembled. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Ye Chen... the company... my father's debt... I don't have a choice."
Ye Chen nodded, slow and deliberate. Something inside him snapped. For a decade, he'd kept his head down, hiding his real identity just to survive, living small so the Ye Family's killers wouldn't find him. But now, watching his wife trapped by these jackals, something old and dangerous woke up inside him.
"I get it," he said quietly.
He turned away and headed for the door.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going? Sign the damn papers!" Zhang Li shrieked.
Ye Chen didn't even look back. He stepped out into the rain, dug into his pocket, and pulled out a little waterproof pouch. Inside an old, broken phone and a gold SIM card. He'd thought he'd left that piece of his past behind for good.
He found a payphone on the corner, fingers shaking as he slid in the card and dialed a number he'd never forgotten.
It rang once.
"Speak," came a deep, gravelly voice.
"The eagle has fallen," Ye Chen said, his words cold as the downpour. "But the Dragon is hungry. Time to settle the debt."
He heard a sharp gasp, then the sound of people scrambling in the background.
"Young... Young Master? Is it really you?"
"You've got one hour," Ye Chen said, staring at the lights of Su Villa in the distance. "I want the Zhao Group ruined and I want the Su family to feel exactly whose hand is squeezing their throat."
"It will be done, Sire. Where should we send the fleet?"
Ye Chen caught his reflection in the glass of the phone booth. Wet hair plastered to his forehead, bruises on his face, cheap five-dollar shirt clinging to his skin. But his eyes belonged to a king.
"The hospital," he said. "I'm going to wake u
p my father-in-law. After that, I'm going to tear this city apart."