"Wei needs to speak to you," Mom says in Chinese as I remove my shoes.
"Where have you been?" Dad asks in Korean. He's worrying about me.
"I'm sorry. I've been busy with schoolwork. But great news, I produced something sellable!" I half-fake the excitement while half-telling the truth.
Dad's curiosity lights up his face. "What product?"
Mom's wide eyes, raised eyebrows, and big smile shows her excitement. "How much?"
Wei steps off the last stair step onto our living room. "One point five million dollars," he says in Chinese with a stern face.
That much? What's he paying me for again? Is that what Lizzy asked for? I really need to read that file Jason gave me and check my bank account too. But one point five M means I don't have to anymore. Yeppy, one less boring adulting task eliminated! Neutral face, neutral face Ace!
I adjust my face while noting that Dad is shocked, and Mom is speechless with her mouth hanging open. I shake my head at Wei. "At least it's legitimate this time," I shoot back in English.
"What did you produce?" he replies in English. It's our way of speaking behind our parents' backs. My mom is counting on her fingers, and my dad is repeating the numbers to himself. I make my way to the dinner table and Wei follows. I turn to Wei again. "Did you have to shock them like that?"
"So the other money wasn't legit then?" he probes.
I roll my eyes. They're not illegal, though I might have done a few illegal things–hacking is necessary for some PI cases though. "You complain when there's no real origin, and you complain when there is. What do you want?"
"You're not doing something... dangerous, are you?"
"No! I'm a programmer. I create apps and software, okay."
With eyebrows furrow and his eyes searching, he asks, "That's it?"
His suspicion offends me. "Yes! I mean, what else could I be doing?"
"You didn't hack anyone or steal—"
"Who do you think I am? Besides... I'd get away with it."
His mouth opens slightly, then it closes, and we sit at the dinner table. Our dinner commences in its usual melody of English, Korean, and Chinese languages flying around, accompanied by the wafts of steaming white rice, kimchi, caramelized meat, and a hint of fishiness in the air.
My mom puts a big bowl of rice in front of me that's more filled than usual. A reward I don't want and can't finish. "You've worked so hard. Here's for my favorite daughter."
"I'm your only daughter."
She pats the top of my head. "Yes, yes, and my favorite."
Dad grins as he places the quail eggs over the overflowing rice. This is the Asian's equivalent to saying "I'm proud of you" which is the same as saying "I love you" from him.
"Why haven't you used any of your credit cards in the last few months? There were no transactions on any of them last month," Wei continues to interrogate.
"Oh... hmm... I didn't need them?" I add a smile that is probably too forced to be convincing.
"Why not? How did you pay for Uber and Lyft? What about rent? You haven't withdrawn any money either."
My parents take their seats and are still filing food onto my rice bowl and the plate in front of me.
"Hmm..." Crap!
Mom puts kimchi onto my plate covering the last spot where the bottom is still visible. "You're talking too much. Let her eat. My daughter is so skinny. You've worked so hard."
Dad pats my back.
"I'll show you later," I whisper, then remember that my parents don't understand English. Wei picks up his chopsticks and starts eating.
He and I eat in silence while my parents argue over what to do with the money and who to brag to first.
After dinner, I excuse myself and go to my room. Wei follows. I hand him the white card from my purse.
He stops, stares at it, and then a worried look crosses his face as he asks, "Where did you get this?"
"It's a gift... from... my boyfriend." That should be believable.
The tension in Wei's face eases. He hands me back the card and continues to his room.
I'm offended that he doesn't even seem a bit concerned about who my boyfriend is. I go after him. "Hey, why are you more worried about the money coming into my account than my boyfriend?"
"I do worry for him. What was he thinking, picking you?"
"You're a jerk!"
"Wanna give me his number so I can warn him about—"
I slam his door shut and enter my room. Standing in front of the closet, I'm having trouble picking out clothes Mr. Silence likes. Which dresses should I take with me?
I shouldn't be surprised at Wei's reaction though, none of my brothers really worry about me with other boys. They witnessed firsthand how strong my fists were growing up.
The phone's vibration cuts through my thoughts showing Beth's messages. She has some pieces ready for me to try on. Grabbing my purse, I run out but stop to give my parents a peck on the cheek. They yell their usual advice after me. The Uber arrives quickly since it's Sunday and there's no traffic on the freeway.
Jason replies to my text: It's been a tiring trip for him. We'll fly back Tuesday, landing at 10 p.m. in Burbank. Jason's getting better at giving more details about his arrival. I start to text a thank you, but then I think of something better. I call the In-House Care Spa and book a massage therapist to come to Jason's apartment in downtown L.A. for a two-hour massage an hour after he lands.
###
Jason flips through the report again. Ace's cybersecurity software has integrated seamlessly into the MM International Bank online platform—stable, clean, exactly what they needed. On paper, it's a win. Efficient. Profitable. Contained.
Across the limo, Mohamad sits in silence.
Jason glances up. Watches him. Wonders—like he has been lately—whether this is still about business. Or if it stopped being just business the moment Ace entered the equation.
Mohamad's eyes snap to him.
That glare again. Cold. Sharp. Still angry.
Jason drops his gaze back to the report. Yes. Still furious—about the presentation four days ago, about Halvorsen, about the sample, about Project Eve. About Jason not stopping it. He had tried. He did try. But no one listens to him anymore. Not Halvorsen. Not Mohamad. Not when Ace is involved.
"Send me Wong's presentation." Mohamad's voice cuts through the quiet.
Jason's eyes flick up. Why would he—
"Now."
Mohamad is already looking back down at his iPad, as if the request means nothing.
Jason opens his laptop without another word and forwards the file.
Since Mohamad moved in with Ace, he's become impossible to read. Unpredictable. Volatile in ways Jason has never seen in fourteen years.
Jason presses send. He no longer has the faintest idea what his boss is planning.
And that is when Mohamad finally opens Wong's file.