Part 2
Daniel’s question landed in the room like a glass breaking.
Mia felt every eye turn toward her.
The assistant by the wall stared at her screen as if it had suddenly become fascinating. The two junior executives at the far end of the table became statues. Even the city beyond the windows seemed to quiet, Manhattan’s winter-gray skyline holding its breath.
Mia tightened her grip on the edge of the tablet.
“What I needed last night,” she said carefully, “was eight hours of sleep and a better relationship with caffeine.”
Daniel Kang’s mouth did not smile.
But something in his eyes shifted.
Barely.
Almost nothing.
Yet Mia saw it.
“Reasonable,” he said.
She looked back at the rendering on the screen, forcing her pulse to slow. “As I was saying, the warmth is intentional. The Harrington-Kang has history. If we strip it down into steel and marble, it becomes another beautiful room no one remembers. The design needs restraint, yes, but not emptiness.”
“And you believe restraint and warmth can coexist.”
“I believe they have to.”
Daniel studied her for several seconds, long enough that Mia started mentally reviewing every unpaid invoice, every pending loan payment, every reason she could not afford to lose this project.
Then he looked toward his assistant.
“Move forward with Ms. Carter’s concept.”
The assistant blinked. “All of it, Mr. Kang?”
“All of it.”
Mia nearly forgot how to breathe.
One of the executives shifted. “Sir, the brass installation alone exceeds the initial lobby budget by—”
Daniel’s eyes moved to him.
The executive stopped speaking.
“Ms. Carter said luxury is care before need,” Daniel said quietly. “I would like to test that theory.”
No one argued after that.
The meeting ended twelve minutes later.
People stood, gathered papers, avoided Daniel’s gaze, and moved with the particular nervous efficiency of employees who knew their boss did not need to raise his voice to be obeyed. Mia packed her portfolio, relieved and unsettled in equal measure.
She was almost at the door when Daniel spoke.
“Ms. Carter.”
She turned.
The room had emptied. Only he remained at the head of the table, one hand resting on the back of his chair.
“Yes?”
“You left something behind last night.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Oh,” she said. “Did I?”
He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and took out a pencil.
Not just any pencil.
Her pencil.
The one that had been holding her hair together.
Mia stared at it, mortified.
Daniel crossed the room and held it out.
It looked absurd in his hand. A small yellow pencil with bite marks at the end, its eraser worn nearly flat, balanced between fingers that looked as if they signed checks large enough to buy islands.
“I didn’t realize,” she said, taking it.
“You were asleep.”
“Yes. I remember that part.”
“No,” he said. “You don’t.”
The words were soft, but something beneath them made her look up.
Daniel’s face gave nothing away.
Mia slipped the pencil into her coat pocket. “Thank you for not letting me fall.”
“I considered it.”
Her eyes widened.
Then, impossibly, the corner of his mouth moved.
A shadow of amusement.
It vanished almost immediately.
Mia laughed once under her breath before she could stop herself. “Well. Thank you for reconsidering.”
Daniel looked at her as if laughter was a language he had once known but had forgotten how to speak.
“You work late often?” he asked.
“Only when clients are impossible.”
“And am I impossible?”
“Too early to say.”
“That has never stopped anyone else from deciding.”
Mia hesitated. There was something strange about him, something colder than wealth and sharper than ordinary power. She had worked for rich men before. Rich men loved to perform importance. They filled rooms with noise, opinions, watches, and unnecessary cruelty.
Daniel Kang did not perform.
He simply existed, and the room rearranged itself around him.
“That sounds lonely,” she said before she could think better of it.
The air changed.
It was not dramatic. No thunder, no slammed door.
But Daniel went still in a way that made Mia realize she had stepped somewhere she was not supposed to step.
For one second, she saw the man from the subway again. Not the billionaire. Not the client. The stranger who had allowed an exhausted woman to rest against him without asking for anything in return.
Then the mask returned.
“My driver can take you to your office,” he said.
“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s twenty degrees outside.”
“I have a coat.”
“You also fell asleep on public transportation.”
“Once,” she said. “I did that once.”
“In my experience, once is enough.”
Mia opened her mouth to refuse.
Then she remembered the overdue heating bill waiting in her apartment, the cracked heel of her left boot, the way her hands had been shaking from exhaustion when she boarded the train the night before.
Pride was expensive.
She was already in debt.
“Fine,” she said. “Thank you.”
Daniel nodded once.
Jason Park was waiting outside the conference room.
Mia had noticed him earlier, though he had not been introduced. Large, silent, broad-shouldered, with the kind of expression that discouraged strangers from asking for directions. He looked at Daniel first, then at Mia, then at the pencil in her pocket.
His eyes narrowed by half a millimeter.
Mia decided she did not like being assessed by bodyguards before lunch.
The elevator ride down was quiet.
Too quiet.
Mia stood between Daniel and Jason, watching the floor numbers descend. Her reflection stared back from the mirrored doors, cheeks flushed, hair badly twisted, wool coat linty at the sleeves. Beside her, Daniel looked carved from expensive stone.
“You don’t have to come down,” she said.
“I’m going to another meeting.”
“At the curb?”
“Yes.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Very.”
His tone was so flat she almost smiled again.
The elevator opened into the lobby of Kang Hospitality Group, a place of polished black floors, white orchids, and employees who lowered their voices when Daniel appeared.
That was when Mia noticed it.
People did not just respect him.
They feared him.
A receptionist dropped her pen as he passed. A man near the security desk turned pale and immediately looked at the floor. Two visitors who had been laughing near the entrance stopped mid-sentence.
Mia slowed.
Daniel did not.
Outside, a black sedan waited by the curb. Its engine ran silently, exhaust ghosting into the cold. Jason opened the rear door.
Mia stepped toward it.
Then someone shouted her name.
“Mia!”
She turned.
A man in a navy overcoat hurried down the sidewalk, waving one gloved hand. He was handsome in a polished, exhausted way, with snow caught in his dark blond hair and irritation already tightening his mouth.
Evan Royce.
Her former fiancé.
And current nightmare.
Mia felt her body lock.
Daniel noticed.
Of course he did.
Evan stopped in front of her, breathing hard. “I’ve been calling you.”
“I’ve been working.”
“You’ve been ignoring me.”
“That too.”
Evan’s eyes moved past her to Daniel, then to the car, then to Jason. A flicker of recognition crossed his face, followed by something almost like satisfaction.
“Mia,” he said, lowering his voice, “we need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do.” He stepped closer. “You can’t just walk away from the firm and take client files with you.”
“I didn’t take client files.”
“The Harrington-Kang account was initiated while you were at Royce Bellamy.”
Mia’s face went cold. “It was initiated by me. After I left. With my own proposal.”
Evan smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “That’s not how my father sees it.”
“Your father sees women as office furniture, so you’ll forgive me for not treating his opinion as law.”
Jason made a small sound that might have been a cough.
Daniel said nothing.
Evan’s jaw tightened. “You’re making this uglier than it has to be.”
“No,” Mia said. “You did that when you cheated on me with a client and then tried to make me sign a noncompete you knew wouldn’t hold up.”
Evan’s face darkened. “Careful.”
The word was quiet.
Threatening.
Mia heard it.
Daniel heard it too.
The temperature seemed to drop.
Evan glanced at Daniel again, attempting a more professional smile. “Mr. Kang. Evan Royce. Royce Bellamy Design. My father—”
“I know who your father is,” Daniel said.
Evan’s smile grew. “Then you understand there’s been some confusion regarding Ms. Carter’s authority to represent this project.”
“No.”
Evan blinked. “No?”
“There is no confusion.”
Mia looked at Daniel.
He still had not raised his voice.
He did not need to.
“The Harrington-Kang contract is with Carter Studio,” Daniel said. “Not Royce Bellamy. Not your father. Not you.”
Evan’s mouth tightened. “With respect, I’d advise you to review—”
Jason took one step forward.
Only one.
Evan stopped speaking.
Daniel looked at him the way a man might look at a stain on his cuff.
“You advised me,” Daniel said. “Now leave.”
For a moment, Evan looked as if he might argue.
Then he looked past Daniel.
Two men had appeared near the building entrance. Mia had not seen them approach. They wore dark coats and neutral expressions. Not security guards. Not employees. Something else.
Evan saw them too.
His confidence cracked.
He stepped back, fixing his gaze on Mia. “This isn’t over.”
Mia lifted her chin. “It should have been over six months ago.”
Evan turned and walked away.
She waited until he disappeared into the foot traffic before exhaling.
Daniel watched her.
“Former fiancé?” he asked.
“Unfortunately.”
“Trouble?”
“Constantly.”
“Dangerous?”
Mia almost laughed. “Evan? No. He’s just rich, petty, and allergic to consequences.”
Daniel’s gaze followed the direction Evan had gone.
“That can be dangerous.”
Something in his voice made her uneasy.
“Mr. Kang,” she said, “I appreciate what you did, but I don’t need anyone handling Evan for me.”
“No?”
“No. I have handled him for years.”
“And how has that worked out?”
She looked at him sharply.
His face remained calm.
The worst part was that he was not mocking her.
He was asking.
Mia hated that she did not have a good answer.
Jason cleared his throat. “Car is ready.”
Daniel opened the rear door himself.
Mia stared at him.
Billionaire clients did not open car doors. Not for contractors. Not for women who had slept on them by accident. Not for anyone.
“You’re strange,” she said.
“Yes.”
At least he was honest.
Mia got into the car.
The ride to her office should have been short, ordinary, forgettable.
It was not.
Daniel sat beside her, silent, while Jason drove. The car moved through Manhattan with unnerving ease, slipping between taxis and delivery trucks like the streets had been cleared without anyone admitting it.
Mia watched the city blur beyond the tinted glass.
“Why does everyone look at you like that?” she asked suddenly.
Daniel turned his head.
“Like what?”
“Like they’re afraid to breathe too loudly.”
Jason’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
Daniel’s expression did not change.
“I’m a difficult man.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the safest one.”
Mia looked at him for a long moment.
Most people filled silence when they were uncomfortable.
Daniel did not.
He let it sit between them like a loaded weapon.
“I don’t want trouble,” she said at last.
“Then why did you start your own studio in New York with no investors, no family backing, and a former employer trying to bury you?”
Mia froze. “How do you know all that?”
“I read proposals thoroughly.”
“My proposal did not mention my family.”
“No,” Daniel said. “It mentioned your emergency contact was blank.”
Her throat tightened unexpectedly.
She looked away.
“That’s not relevant to the lobby design.”
“It is relevant to you.”
“I’m not part of the deliverables.”
“No,” Daniel said. “You’re the reason they exist.”
Mia had no response to that.
The sedan stopped outside a narrow brick building in Chelsea, where Carter Studio occupied a fifth-floor walk-up above a lighting repair shop. The windows rattled in winter wind. The sign on the door was temporary vinyl because Mia could not yet afford the engraved brass plate she wanted.
Daniel looked up at it.
“This is your office?”
“For now.”
“The elevator?”
“Broken.”
“How long?”
“Since before I moved in.”
He turned to her. “You carry marble samples up five flights?”
“Not all at once.”
Jason muttered something in Korean.
Daniel replied in the same language, short and cold.
Jason went silent.
Mia got out before Daniel could open her door again.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said.
Daniel stepped onto the sidewalk after her. “I’ll review the revised lighting package by Friday.”
“I’ll send it Thursday.”
“Wednesday.”
“Thursday.”
“Wednesday,” Daniel repeated.
Mia smiled sweetly. “I’ll send it Thursday morning and call it Wednesday night in Los Angeles.”
Jason looked down at the pavement.
Daniel’s eyes held hers.
Then, to her astonishment, he gave the smallest nod.
“Acceptable.”
Mia turned toward the building, already regretting how much she liked winning even tiny arguments with him.
Behind her, Daniel said, “Ms. Carter.”
She looked back.
“Yes?”
“Do not meet Evan Royce alone.”
Her smile faded.
“I mean it,” he said.
The words were not loud, but there was iron under them.
Mia should have felt annoyed.
Instead, she felt a cold prickle at the back of her neck.
“Why?” she asked.
Daniel looked toward the corner where Evan had vanished earlier.
“Because men who are allergic to consequences often find someone else to pay for them.”
Then he got back into the car.
The sedan pulled away.
Mia stood in the cold for a long time after it disappeared.
By Friday, she had convinced herself Daniel Kang was simply intense.
By Monday, she knew she was wrong.
It started with the flowers.
Not roses. Not lilies. Not anything romantic.
A massive arrangement of white orchids appeared at Carter Studio reception, though Carter Studio did not technically have a reception, only a chipped table near the door where invoices went to die.
The card read:
Congratulations on your new client. Don’t get comfortable.
No signature.
Mia threw the flowers in the trash and told herself not to be dramatic.
Then came the permit delay.
The city planning portal suddenly flagged three previously approved filings for additional review. Her expediter called sounding confused and apologetic.
“This never happens,” he said.
“Everything happens,” Mia replied, staring at the screen.
Then one of her suppliers canceled a stone order, claiming a conflict. Another increased pricing by thirty percent overnight. A freelance renderer stopped answering calls after promising final lobby visuals by morning.
By Wednesday, Mia had slept six hours total and was surviving on coffee, rage, and the kind of stubbornness that made people either successful or hospitalized.
At 9:13 p.m., she was alone in the studio when the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then went out.
Mia stood in darkness, surrounded by rolled blueprints and half-built material boards.
The city glowed beyond the windows, but inside the office, everything became shadow.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A message appeared.
Walk away from Kang. Last warning.
Mia’s hand went cold.
A sound came from the stairwell.
Slow.
Heavy.
One footstep.
Then another.
She stared at the door.
The lock was old. Too old. She had complained to the landlord twice.
The knob turned.
Mia grabbed the closest thing on her desk: a brass sample rod.
The door opened two inches.
Then stopped.
A man made a choking sound.
Something hit the wall outside.
Hard.
Mia froze.
The door opened fully.
Daniel Kang stood in the doorway.
Behind him, a man in a gray hoodie lay crumpled on the hall floor, groaning. Jason stood over him, one knee pressed between the man’s shoulder blades, calmly removing a knife from his hand.
Mia stared.
Daniel stepped inside, his black coat dusted with snow, his expression colder than anything the winter could produce.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
Mia could not answer.
Her eyes moved from Daniel to the man on the floor.
The knife gleamed under the emergency stair light.
“Ms. Carter,” Daniel said, sharper now. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she said. “I’m—no.”
Daniel’s gaze swept over her, checking anyway. Her face. Her hands. The brass rod she held like a weapon.
Only then did he look back at Jason.
“Who sent him?”
Jason twisted the man’s wrist slightly.
The man gasped. “I don’t know! I swear!”
Daniel walked into the hall.
Mia followed before she could stop herself.
“Mr. Kang,” she said. “What are you doing?”
Daniel did not look at her. “Asking a question.”
Jason lowered his voice. “He had her schedule.”
Daniel went very still.
Mia’s stomach turned. “What?”
Jason pulled a folded sheet from the man’s jacket and held it up.
It was printed.
Her weekly schedule. Site visits. Client calls. Even the time she usually left the studio.
Daniel took the paper.
His eyes moved over it.
Something changed in his face.
Not anger, exactly.
Something older.
Worse.
The man on the floor started to tremble.
“Please,” he said. “I was just paid to scare her.”
“By whom?” Daniel asked.
“I don’t know his name.”
Jason bent closer. “Try harder.”
The man swallowed. “Royce. Somebody Royce. That’s all I heard.”
Mia closed her eyes.
Evan.
Of course.
Petty, rich, allergic to consequences.
And not as harmless as she had wanted to believe.
Daniel folded the schedule once.
Then again.
Precise.
Controlled.
“Call Detective Han,” he told Jason.
Jason glanced up, surprised. “Police?”
Mia noticed the surprise.
Daniel did not. Or ignored it.
“This happened in Ms. Carter’s building,” he said. “There will be a proper report.”
Jason nodded and pulled out his phone.
Mia looked at Daniel.
“Why were you here?”
He turned to her.
For the first time since she had met him, he did not have an immediate answer.
Mia stared harder. “Daniel.”
His name slipped out before she realized she had used it.
Jason’s eyes flicked toward them.
Daniel’s gaze remained on Mia.
“I had your building watched,” he said.
The words were calm.
Terrible.
Mia took a step back. “You what?”
“After Royce approached you.”
“You had me followed?”
“Protected.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No,” he said. “But tonight, it was close enough.”
Mia’s pulse hammered. Fear, relief, anger, all tangled so tightly she could barely separate them.
“You don’t get to do that,” she said.
Daniel said nothing.
“You don’t get to decide I need protection and put men outside my building without telling me.”
“If I had told you, you would have refused.”
“Yes!”
“And you would have been alone when he came.”
The sentence hit too close.
Mia looked at the man on the floor again.
At the knife.
At her printed schedule.
Her anger did not vanish. It simply lost its footing.
Daniel saw it. Of course he did.
His voice lowered. “I will not apologize for preventing harm.”
“I’m not asking you to apologize for that.”
“What are you asking?”
Mia looked up at him.
“I’m asking you to remember that I’m a person. Not one of your properties. Not one of your employees. Not a lobby you can renovate without permission.”
For a long moment, Daniel said nothing.
Snow melted slowly on the shoulders of his coat.
Then he nodded.
“Understood.”
The police arrived fifteen minutes later.
Detective Grace Han was small, sharp-eyed, and entirely unimpressed by everyone in the hallway, including Daniel Kang. She took Mia’s statement, photographed the schedule, inspected the knife, and gave Daniel a look that suggested she knew exactly what he was and had no intention of pretending otherwise.
“Convenient,” she said, “that your people arrived before anything worse happened.”
Daniel’s expression remained blank. “Very.”
Detective Han narrowed her eyes. “You always visit interior designers at night?”
“Only talented ones.”
Mia choked on nothing.
Detective Han looked between them.
One eyebrow rose.
After the attacker was taken away, Mia expected Daniel to leave.
He did not.
He stood in her studio while she gathered her laptop, backup drive, and the material samples she refused to abandon. Jason waited by the door, speaking quietly into his phone.
“You cannot stay here tonight,” Daniel said.
“I know.”
“I have a hotel.”
“You have several.”
“One has security.”
“They all have security.”
“One has me.”
Mia stopped packing.
Daniel’s face remained composed, but the words sat between them with dangerous weight.
“Absolutely not,” she said.
“It is not an invitation.”
“Great, because I’m not accepting.”
“Mia.”
The way he said her name changed the room.
Not Ms. Carter.
Mia.
Quiet. Certain. Almost reluctant.
She looked at him.
He looked back.
“I do not know how to be harmless,” he said.
The honesty startled her more than any lie could have.
Daniel continued, “But I know how to keep dangerous things away.”
Mia wanted to refuse.
She wanted to be the woman who marched home alone with her brass rod and her pride, proving to Evan Royce, Daniel Kang, and every man in New York that she could not be frightened into retreat.
But her hands were still shaking.
The knife had been real.
The schedule had been real.
And for all Daniel’s darkness, he had been real too.
“Separate rooms,” she said.
“Yes.”
“No guards inside my room.”
“Yes.”
“No one follows me without my knowledge ever again.”
Daniel hesitated.
Mia’s eyes narrowed.
He said, “Yes.”
She zipped her bag. “And I’m billing you for the extra hours this disaster has caused.”
This time, Daniel almost smiled.
“Of course.”
The Harrington-Kang Hotel rose above Central Park South like an old king refusing to die.
Its limestone facade was wrapped in scaffolding. Its grand entrance sat half-hidden behind plywood, work lights, and temporary signage. Inside, the lobby was stripped to bones: exposed wiring, covered columns, raw stone floors waiting to be reborn.
Mia had seen it by daylight many times.
At night, empty and echoing, it felt different.
Daniel led her through a private entrance. Staff appeared and disappeared soundlessly. No one asked questions. No one looked directly at him.
A suite had already been prepared on the twenty-sixth floor.
Of course it had.
Mia stepped inside and stopped.
The room was enormous, facing the dark sweep of Central Park. A fire burned in a marble fireplace. Fresh clothes, toiletries, tea, and a tray of food waited on the dining table.
She turned slowly.
Daniel stood by the door.
“You arranged all this in fifteen minutes?”
“No.”
Her stomach dipped. “No?”
“I arranged it Monday.”
Mia stared at him.
“After the flowers,” he said.
“You knew about the flowers?”
“Yes.”
“And the permits?”
“Yes.”
“The suppliers?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel.”
“I told you Royce could be dangerous.”
“You did not tell me you were monitoring my entire life.”
He looked down once, as if collecting patience from the floor.
“I was monitoring a threat.”
“And I was standing inside it without knowing.”
That silenced him.
For the first time, Mia saw something like frustration pass across his face. Not at her. At himself.
“I made a choice,” he said. “It kept you alive tonight. It also cost me your trust.”
Mia set her bag down slowly.
“Yes,” she said. “It did.”
Daniel accepted that without defense.
Somehow, that made it harder to stay angry.
He turned to leave.
“Daniel.”
He stopped.
“Why does Evan think he can threaten your project?” she asked. “He’s arrogant, but he’s not stupid. Not that stupid.”
Daniel’s shoulders went still.
Mia’s skin prickled.
He turned back.
“What do you mean?”
“The permits. The suppliers. The schedule. The man with the knife. Evan doesn’t have that reach by himself. His father has money, but not this kind of access. Someone is helping him.”
Daniel’s face changed.
Subtly, but completely.
The client disappeared.
The man from the subway disappeared.
What remained was the person everyone lowered their eyes for.
“Show me the messages,” he said.
Mia handed him her phone.
He read the unknown texts. One after another.
Walk away.
You were warned.
Last chance.
Last warning.
Daniel’s thumb stopped on the final message.
He stared at the number.
Then, very slowly, he looked at Jason, who had entered silently behind him.
Jason saw the screen.
His face went pale.
Mia noticed.
“What?” she asked.
Neither man answered.
“Daniel,” she said. “What is it?”
Jason spoke first, voice tight. “That number is registered to a burner.”
Mia folded her arms. “Obviously.”
Jason looked at Daniel.
Daniel’s eyes remained on the phone.
Jason said, “It was purchased in Flushing.”
The room seemed to narrow.
Mia looked between them. “Why does that matter?”
Daniel gave the phone back to her.
His voice was quiet.
“Because it was purchased from one of mine.”
Mia did not understand at first.
Then she did.
One of mine.
Not one of my stores.
Not one of my employees.
One of mine.
The fear she had been holding at a distance stepped closer.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
Daniel looked at her.
For a moment, he seemed almost tired.
Then Jason’s phone rang.
He answered, listened, and his expression hardened.
“Mr. Kang,” he said. “Detective Han just confirmed. The attacker posted bail.”
Mia’s mouth went dry. “Already?”
Jason nodded once. “Ten minutes ago.”
Daniel’s face turned empty.
That emptiness frightened Mia more than anger.
“Who paid?” he asked.
Jason hesitated.
“Say it,” Daniel ordered.
Jason looked at Mia, then back at him.
“The transfer came through a shell account tied to Sun Yi.”
Daniel did not move.
But something in the room recoiled from the name.
Mia had never heard it before, yet the silence after it felt ancient.
Daniel took one step toward the window.
The firelight cut across his face, sharpening every angle.
“Sun Yi is dead,” he said.
Jason’s voice lowered. “He was supposed to be.”
Mia’s heart pounded.
“Who is Sun Yi?”
Daniel did not answer immediately.
Outside, snow began falling again, soft against the black glass.
At last, he turned to her.
“Five years ago, Sun Yi tried to take everything from me,” he said. “My business. My territory. My family.”
Mia swallowed. “And now?”
Daniel looked at her with an expression she could not read.
“Now he is using you to get my attention.”
A cold wave moved through her.
The flowers.
The permits.
The knife.
Not because Evan wanted revenge.
Not only that.
Because someone behind him wanted Daniel to look.
Mia stepped back until her hip touched the dining table.
“This has nothing to do with me.”
Daniel’s voice softened. “It does now.”
A knock sounded at the suite door.
Jason moved first, one hand going beneath his coat.
Daniel shifted in front of Mia without appearing to think about it.
The knock came again.
Three taps.
A pause.
Two taps.
Jason looked through the peephole.
His expression went rigid.
“Mr. Kang,” he said quietly. “You need to see this.”
Daniel opened the door.
No one stood in the hallway.
Only a white envelope lay on the carpet.
Jason picked it up carefully and handed it to Daniel.
There was no name on the front.
Daniel opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Mia saw herself before she understood what she was seeing.
Her, asleep on the subway.
Her head resting on Daniel Kang’s shoulder.
The picture had been taken from across the train car.
Beneath it, written in black ink, were five words:
Even kings make soft mistakes.
Mia’s breath caught.
Daniel stared at the photograph.
His face revealed nothing.
But the lights in the suite flickered once.
Somewhere far below, in the bones of the Harrington-Kang Hotel, an alarm began to ring.
Jason moved to the window.
Then he cursed.
Mia rushed beside him and looked down.
On the street below, black cars were stopping one after another along the curb.
Men stepped out into the snow.
Not hotel security.
Not police.
Too many.
Too organized.
Daniel slipped the photograph into his coat pocket.
When Mia looked back at him, she saw something she had not seen before.
Not fear.
Recognition.
As if a ghost had knocked, and Daniel Kang had known its rhythm.
Jason drew his gun.
Mia’s blood turned cold.
Daniel looked at her and said, “Stay behind me.”
Then the suite phone rang.
All three of them stared at it.
It rang again.
Daniel picked it up.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then a voice crackled faintly through the receiver, amused, intimate, and cruel enough that Mia could hear the smile inside it.
“Did you miss me, brother?”
Mia looked at Daniel.
Brother.
Daniel Kang closed his eyes for one second.
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