le, expensive-looking—just his name and a phone number.
Nikia and I sat in the car for a long time before I could even start the engine. She crawled into my lap, something she hadn’t done in months, and we just held each other.
“Is Daddy going to come back?” she asked quietly.
“No, baby. Not anymore.”
I didn’t know if that was true, but I wanted it to be.
When I got home, my older sister Janelle was already there. Our mother must have called her. She took one look at me and pulled me into a hug so tight I almost started crying again.
“Mama told me what happened,” she said. “Are you okay? Is Nikia okay?”
“We’re okay,” I said. “Someone helped us. Someone.”
I showed her the card. Her eyes went wide. “Adrien… do you know who this is?”
“No. Should I?”
She pulled out her phone and searched his name. The results made my blood freeze.
Young Chul Yu, owner of half a dozen luxury hotels and restaurants. Suspected ties to organized crime. Known associate of several high-profile figures in both legitimate business and less legitimate ventures.
“He’s connected,” Janelle said carefully. “Like… seriously connected. People don’t mess with him.”
“He saved my life.”
“I know. I’m just saying… be careful.”
But I didn’t feel like I needed to be careful around him. I felt safer than I had in years.
The next day at work, my boss, Dr. Patel, asked if I needed time off. My coworkers had seen the bruises on my neck—dark purple marks shaped like fingers. They’d been whispering all morning. I told them I was fine.
But Rhonda, the other receptionist who’d become a good friend, pulled me aside during lunch.
“You can’t keep doing this alone,” she said. “If that man comes back, he won’t—”
“How can you be sure?”
I thought about Young Chul’s eyes, the way his men had moved, the authority in his voice. “I just am.”
That night, DeAndre called from jail. I didn’t answer. He called seventeen more times. I blocked the number.
Then three days later, I got a call from an unknown number.
“Miss Adrien,” a woman’s voice said, professional and polite. “Mr. Yu would like to know if you and your daughter are safe. He asked me to check in.”
My heart did something strange in my chest. “We’re fine. Please tell him thank you.”
“He also wanted me to inform you that your ex-husband has been denied bail. The charges have been escalated due to witness testimony and video evidence.”
Video evidence. The mall security footage was provided to the district attorney’s office. Mr. Yu made sure it was prioritized. He was still protecting us even from a distance.
Two weeks later, Nikia and I were at the park when a black car pulled up. My first instinct was panic. But then Young Chul stepped out. He was dressed more casually this time—still expensive, but not a full suit. He walked over slowly, hands in his pockets.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” he said.
“No, it’s okay.” I stood up from the bench. Nikia looked up from the swings, recognized him, and waved shyly. He waved back.
“I wanted to make sure you were both all right,” he said, “and to let you know that DeAndre won’t be a problem anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means his lawyer advised him to take a plea deal. He’ll be in prison for a long time.”
Relief washed over me so powerfully I almost collapsed. My knees actually buckled, and Young Chul reached out to steady me. His hand on my arm was gentle but firm.
“Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever—”
“You’ll have dinner with me.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You and Nikia. Dinner. Somewhere she’d enjoy. Let me do that much.”
It wasn’t a demand. It was an offer. A genuine one. I looked at Nikia, who was watching us curiously, still swinging slowly back and forth.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay.”
He smiled then. A real smile. And for the first time since everything happened, I felt like maybe things could actually be okay.
“Your mom told me you like art. Is that true?” >> “Yes.” >> “Then I know the perfect place for dinner. They have crayons.” >>
Before he left, he crouched down in front of Nikia again. She stopped swinging and came over, a little hesitant but curious.
“Your mom told me you like art,” he said. “Is that true?”
Nikia nodded.
“Then I know the perfect place for dinner. They have crayons and paper on every table.”
Nikia’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Really.”
As he walked back to his car, I realized I was smiling too. For the first time in months, I actually felt something other than fear. I felt hope.
Young Chul took us to an upscale Korean barbecue restaurant where the staff greeted him by name and treated us like we were royalty. Nikia’s eyes went wide when she saw the tabletop grill.
“We get to cook our own food?” she asked, amazed.
“We do,” he said, smiling. “Want to help me?”
“Perfect. Just like that. You’re doing great.” >> “I did it.” >> “You’re really good with her.” >> “She’s easy to be good to.” >>
For the next hour, I watched him patiently explain each dish to Nikia, letting her use the tongs to flip the meat, praising her when she did it right. She was glowing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her this happy.
“You’re really good with her,” I said quietly.
He glanced at me, his expression softening. “She’s easy to be good to.”
After we ate, Nikia excused herself to go wash her hands. The moment she was out of earshot, Young Chul’s tone shifted.
“How are you really doing?” he asked.
“I’m managing.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I looked down at my plate. “I’m terrified. Every time my phone rings, every time someone walks too close to me at work, I think it’s him. I know he’s in jail, but I keep waiting for something else to go wrong.”
“It won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “I can.”
The way he said it—calm, absolute, final—made me believe him.
When we left the restaurant, Young Chul walked us to my car and handed Nikia a small gift bag. Inside was a stuffed animal and a children’s book about brave girls. Nikia hugged the stuffed animal immediately.
“Thank you, Mr. Yu.”
“You’re welcome.”
