Kim replied, feigning a tone of boredom, as if the question hardly merited an answer:

"Deliberately setting a fire and leaving behind evidence to frame someone else is a childish ploy. You know that perfectly well, Lieutenant. I think this arson investigation unit would be better off spending its time finding the real culprit rather than wasting resources on misguided inquiries like this one."

Wesley remained silent, deep in thought. Kim’s arguments were solid, and she was sharp—formidable, even. He had heard of the young Vietnamese lawyer from the firm of Holmes, Vickens & Berry; experience had taught him not to tangle with the heavy hitters from that outfit. In truth, he had only wanted to give Lữ a hard time because he detested the man’s yellow face—Asians coming here to get rich while he scraped by on a meager forty-thousand-dollar salary. He wanted to bully them, to make them afraid, to show them who really owned this country. Finally, Wesley spoke:

"Mr. Lữ is not a suspect. We’ll pursue other leads in the investigation. However, I require you to be available over the next month should we need to question you further."

Kim signaled for Lữ to stand up. She extended her hand to Wesley:

"Very well. Mr. Lữ will be in Los Angeles throughout the coming month, ready to answer any further questions. I hope your team works quickly to find the actual perpetrator."

Wesley walked the pair to the door. He stood there, pensive, after Lữ and Kim had stepped into the elevator. He had never backed down so quickly before—and to a person of color, no less! Wesley shook his head. Maybe he was past his prime.

But that yellow man’s lawyer was stunning. He breathed in the lingering trace of her perfume in the room. How could there be women in this world so fragrant and alluring!

° ° °

Lữ sat opposite Kim in a restaurant jutting out over the sea at Redondo Beach. He gazed at her through the golden wine glass he held. Seeing Kim’s eyes shimmering mystically in the candlelight, he felt a shiver run through him. It was as if an invisible thread—emanating from her eyes—had tightened around his heart, leaving him breathless. Lữ broke the silence that enveloped them:

"You were amazing. Wesley looked completely tongue-tied; he couldn't even react. I’m so lucky to have met you!"

Kim smiled.

"He’s not done yet, though. If he can't find any leads, he won't be able to track anyone down—and he’ll likely come back to harass you again."

Lữ shook his head.

"There’s nothing more he can do. With you by my side, I don't need to worry about the police anymore."

But his enemy was still lurking in the shadows! Vấn. He had to resolve this matter immediately; he couldn't let it drag on. A thorn in one's side only digs deeper with each passing day.

Yet, this was not the moment to let dark thoughts consume him. There is a time and place for everything. Now belonged to him and Kim—a time to celebrate their first success, to gaze at one another and let their emotions settle deep within. Lữ wished he possessed the sensitivity and artistic flair of his friend, Sơn. He wanted to articulate his feelings—the emotions stirring within him as he sat there looking out at the vast, deep-blue sea, enveloped by her presence and the sparkle in her eyes, and captivated by the scent of her skin.

No! He lacked Sơn’s eloquence; he could only gaze intently at her, conveying the surging, intense emotions within him so she might sense them. He could not put them into words. And perhaps, there was no need to.

° ° °

Kim felt the impact of Lữ’s gaze like an electric shock. She knew she had consumed some alcohol, yet not enough to lower her defenses to this extent. She had remained indifferent to the passionate desire of so many other men. What was it about Lữ that had changed her? She could not say. Was it his thick brows? His resolute, proud face? His fiery, intense eyes? Or simply the potent scent radiating from his body?

Kim possessed a keen sense of smell. She could not tolerate overpowering odors, yet she delighted in unique fragrances—blends that captivated and seduced her. She had noticed Lữ’s scent the moment they met; that potent aroma had begun to stir her, the sensation intensifying by the moment. She felt a flush of embarrassment at how often she thought of him—or rather, of that scent clinging to his body. It was as if an instinct had awakened within her, demanding she pursue the allure that had reached her through her senses, enveloping her and compelling her to claim him more completely.

Kim’s cheeks flushed crimson. Her breathing grew rapid. What was happening to her? She wondered, yet sought no answer. She found herself rising, moving toward Lữ, setting aside the glass he held, and wrapping her arms around his neck. She inhaled deeply. Lữ’s scent—already becoming familiar—rushed through every cell of her body, making her skin tingle and come alive. And she heard the sound of her own voice trembling, speaking as if choked with emotion close to Lữ's ear:
 
" Take me to your place tonight, Lữ."

 
Chapter 37
 
Lữ leaned back in his armchair, watching as Sơn and Uyên walked into the office. He had instructed his secretary to summon them both that morning for a meeting regarding company business. Uyên tossed her handbag onto the desk and, looking at him with irritation, spoke sarcastically:

"It’s been over two weeks, and only now do I get to see the Director's face. Where on earth did you disappear to, Lữ?"

Lữ spoke evasively to cover his tracks:

"It was that apartment complex fire, of course! I had to go sort out the legal side of things to get it settled."

Uyên gave him a searching look:

"That lawyer working for Holmes & Vickens—she’s Vietnamese, isn't she? I heard she’s very beautiful. Did they assign her to your case?"

Lữ glossed over the question:

"I didn't really pay attention. That firm has so many people. I only met her once or twice. The matter is settled now, anyway. The police aren't bothering us anymore. Sơn, do you know when the insurance company will process our claim?"

He turned to Sơn, cutting off any further questioning from Uyên about Kim:

"Make sure you find another professional appraisal team—one with no ties to the insurance company—to give us an estimate for rebuilding the units that burned down. The insurance company will inevitably try to keep the payout as low as possible. If we aren't careful, they’ll squeeze us, and we’ll take a huge loss."

Sơn replied:

"Don't worry! I’ve got experience dealing with these insurance companies. I’ve already obtained two separate appraisals. They won't be able to pull a fast one on us."

Sơn handed Lữ a stack of documents:

"Here are the two appraisals. One is from a firm in Fountain Valley—over $850,000—and the other is from a group in Los Angeles—$920,000. There isn't much of a discrepancy between them." "I’m pretty sure State Farm will pay out around $880,000 in compensation. That should be enough."

Lữ nodded:

"You should go ahead and find a construction contractor, too. As soon as State Farm signs off on the payment, we can start building immediately. I want everything finished within two months. The economic situation here in California is about to undergo a major shift. I’m planning for us to sell the place as soon as the renovations are done!"

Uyên exclaimed:

"What are you saying, Lữ? You want to sell that apartment complex? But market prices are skyrocketing!"

Lữ smiled:

"I told you before! Housing prices here have peaked; they can't possibly go any higher. Just look around you! Isn't everyone you know jumping into real estate? Everyone talks about buying a house just to flip it a few months later for a hundred-thousand-dollar profit! People earning thirty or forty thousand a year are buying homes worth five or six hundred thousand. Couples are working four jobs just to cover the mortgage! The housing market in California right now reminds me of the quail craze back in Vietnam. How could it possibly go any higher? I want to discuss a plan with you and Sơn to exit our partnership's real estate holdings within the next few months. If we don't get out early, we’re going to run into trouble, Uyên."

Uyên shook her head in disagreement:

"That doesn't make sense! I see California housing prices only going up—they can't possibly go down. So many people are flocking here. Then you have the Chinese coming over to invest and pouring money into real estate. The entire Asia-Pacific region trades with this state. With California's economy booming like this, how could it possibly collapse? Why worry about selling?"

Sơn answered on Lữ's behalf:

"I agree with Lữ! Uyên, being in the real estate business, you sometimes get swept up in the clients' enthusiasm, which makes you optimistic. But I see it the same way Lữ does—California's real estate market has reached its absolute peak." The excessive signs Lữ mentioned earlier are warning bells. Housing prices might rise another 5% at most, but I could easily see a crash of 50% or 60%—maybe even worse!

Uyên stubbornly held her ground:

"You two are worrying too much! I think prices could still go up another thirty or forty percent! If we sell everything now, people will laugh at us for being fools! You’ll regret it later, just watch!"

Sơn replied:

"Uyên, I once read a fascinating passage in a book about the 1927 U.S. stock market crash. A capitalist of that era had invested his entire fortune in the market. One day, he took a taxi and heard the driver talking about trading stocks, even advising him on which ones to buy. At the hotel, he heard the bellhops discussing stock investments with an air of expertise, recommending certain companies while warning against others. When he went to settle his bill, he saw another guest who didn't have enough cash pull a stock certificate out of his
pocket to pay for the room instead.
 
Seeing this, the capitalist hurriedly abandoned his plans and went home to sell off all his stock investments. He sold just in time; a month later, Wall Street crashed, triggering the Great Depression. When he sold his shares, prices were skyrocketing, and everyone laughed at him for being foolish. But a month later, the last laugh was his! I think the real estate situation here in California is exactly the same."
 
Uyên fell into thought, remaining silent. She looked up and saw Lữ gazing at her with a look that seemed like a smile. Suddenly, everything Lữ and Sơn had told her came to mind, and she recognized the wisdom in Lữ’s eyes. For a brief moment, she realized that she was the one who had been foolish. Lữ was the one who had brought her today’s wealth. He had driven the partnership’s extraordinary success through his foresight and his knack for knowing exactly when to buy and when to sell. Yet, she had actually doubted his abilities!

Uyên smiled:

"You’re probably right! Sometimes the whole housing situation here feels like a bit of a joke. But seeing everyone else caught up in the buying frenzy, I got swept up in it too! Still, if we sell off all the real estate, what else is there to invest in?"

Lữ turned to Sơn:

"How is that trip to San José coming along—the one where you were looking into venture capital for software companies?"

Sơn replied:

"It looks very promising! Uyên, you might not be fully aware of this yet. I’ve been discussing with Lữ the idea of ​​investing in computer companies up in San José. Small, promising firms often need capital to expand but can't get bank loans, so they turn to venture capital firms. We invest money in a company that looks likely to succeed in developing a product, in exchange for an equity stake—say, thirty or forty percent. Or, if they’re desperate for cash and on the verge of folding, we could drive a hard bargain and secure fifty or sixty percent of the company. If they fail and go bankrupt, we lose everything, of course. But if they succeed and go public on Wall Street, our investment could easily multiply a hundredfold or even a thousandfold!"

Uyên listened intently, her eyes lighting up. She asked:

"If the potential returns are that huge, how would we ever get a piece of the action?" "But wouldn't the major U.S. venture capital firms snap up all the opportunities?"

Sơn smiled:

"Of course, it’s not that simple or easy! Out of a hundred companies vying to produce something, maybe only one or two actually succeed. The real challenge in venture capital is picking that one or two winners from the eighty or ninety that are bound to fail. If you pick wrong, naturally, you go down with them. I went to San Jose to research computer software companies because that’s my area of ​​expertise. Plus, I know a group of Asian students who just graduated from Stanford and are planning to launch a company specializing in Internet software. Internet software companies are gold mines—or rather, diamond and platinum mines; invest a dollar now, and the return won't just be a thousand dollars, but tens of thousands."

Uyên listened, her eyes wide with interest. She asked:

"After doing that research, which companies do you think we could invest in?"

Sơn replied:

"I found three companies. One is already established, called Comnet; another is just starting up, called Delphi Software; and the third—the one I mentioned earlier that isn't fully formed yet—is being planned by a group of Vietnamese and Chinese Stanford graduates under the name Netsoft. I spoke with these guys, and I think they show great promise, largely due to a unique Internet software invention by a Vietnamese member of the group named Thanh. If Lữ and Uyên want to invest, you could choose one of these three, or—to play it safer—split your investment capital three ways and put a portion into each company."

Lữ asked:

"Roughly how much capital would go into these companies?"

Sơn answered:

"For the first two companies, you could put in about a million dollars each to fund their expansion; in return, you could demand around a twenty percent equity stake." As for that Netsoft outfit run by the Vietnamese and Chinese guys I mentioned earlier—if you put up just five hundred thousand, you could secure a full 50% stake in the company.

Uyên asked:

"Which option do you think is best?"

Sơn replied:

"I like Netsoft the best, though it’s obviously the riskiest. If those young guys don't make it—and there’s only about a thirty percent chance of success—the partnership would lose that entire five hundred thousand. But if they do succeed, that five hundred thousand could turn into a hundred million down the line. Comnet is already established and shows great promise, but the returns would be lower since the risk is lower. Delphi Software falls somewhere in the middle. I suggest going with two of the three: Comnet and Netsoft. We’d go with Comnet as a safe bet, and with the Netsoft guys to maximize profits if they hit it big."

Lữ asked Uyên:

"What do you think?"

Uyên replied:

"The partnership has two million in cash right now. I think investing one and a half million is fine. It’s just like gambling, really!"

Lữ laughed:

"Are you joking? Investing isn't like going to Las Vegas to gamble. I think Sơn makes a valid point. We need to get into venture capital if we want a chance to really strike it rich. That way, Sơn and I can focus on selling off the apartment complex once the redevelopment is finished. We’ll also sell the Santa Monica hotel and the Anaheim shopping center. Finally, there’s the shopping center right here on Bolsa Avenue. Vietnamese people do all their shopping when they travel back to Vietnam; hardly anyone comes to the Bolsa area to shop anymore! It’s time to cash out, Uyên."

 
Chapter 38
 
Vấn glanced at his rearview mirror, a sense of unease washing over him. A black Lincoln had been tailing him for over half an hour; it had followed him from the Santa Monica Freeway and onto the 405 just as he did. Vấn made this trip to the Bank of America branch in Santa Monica every week to oversee the accounting. Usually, the only nuisance on this Tuesday route was rush-hour traffic; otherwise, it was a routine drive that never gave him cause for concern. But his instincts told him something was wrong with that massive black vehicle—its windshield tinted so darkly that no one could see inside—as it doggedly followed him on the drive back.

He hadn't paid much attention to the car until, lost in thought, he nearly missed the exit to the 405 and had to swerve across two lanes at once to catch it. A chilling screech of tires behind him made Vấn check his rearview mirror. The Lincoln behind him had also cut across sharply, keeping pace as it merged onto the 405. The blaring horns of cars in the adjacent lanes—forced aside by the Lincoln—startled Vấn, drawing his full attention to the sleek, menacing vehicle that seemed to lunge forward, closing the gap until it was right on the tail of his Camry.

He stepped on the gas, accelerating to nearly 75 miles per hour, and checked the mirror again. The Lincoln surged forward too, maintaining the same distance. Vấn shifted two lanes to the left. The Lincoln changed lanes right along with him. Vấn swore under his breath. There was no longer any doubt: that Lincoln was following him for a reason.

Vấn immediately thought of Lữ, his enemy. It had to be him! His bank work involved only paperwork; he never handled the kind of cash transported by armored trucks—the usual targets of robberies. Vấn knew of no other enemy who would trail him in a sinister-looking black car to issue threats. He was convinced the vehicle was linked to Lữ—specifically to the arson job he had hired Battaglio to carry out on the Garden Grove apartment complex. Vấn had paid the thug Battaglio in full immediately after the successful burning.

Battaglio had taken the money and left without a word after counting it. Vấn did not believe the car belonged to Battaglio or his associates; for one thing, Battaglio could not possibly afford such a brand-new, gleaming vehicle. Furthermore, Vấn had double-checked with Frank Rutter—the detective who had introduced him to Battaglio—and learned that Battaglio had left Los Angeles and was currently in Florida. Unless Battaglio had returned to Los Angeles to threaten or extort him, the Lincoln tailing Vấn could only belong to Lữ or one of Lữ’s henchmen.

The thought of Lữ made Vấn’s blood boil; his past attempts at revenge seemed trivial and feeble—hardly enough to settle the score. The scheme to torch the apartment complex and frame Lữ had gone nowhere. Vấn had made inquiries at the police department and learned that Lữ was not a suspect; the police were pursuing other leads to identify the actual perpetrator. Vấn realized that his effort to hire Battaglio for the arson had not yielded the desired success; it had merely caused Lữ minor inconvenience without inflicting any significant damage.

Vấn learned that the insurance company had agreed to pay compensation to Lữ’s firm, and when passing by the apartment complex, he saw workers already beginning reconstruction. The only thing that gave Vấn a measure of satisfaction was the news that Miriam was seeking a divorce from Lữ; he had made inquiries and discovered that the Leibovitz law firm was already processing the divorce paperwork. Vấn was certain that the anonymous photos he had sent to Miriam—showing Uyên and Lữ embracing outside the Holiday Inn—had achieved exactly the result he desired.

Vấn shook his head a few times. The image of Uyên and Lữ appeared vividly before his eyes. They had been embracing after a night of passionate lovemaking in the hotel, while he sat across the street, his insides torn apart, listening to the click of Frank Rutter’s camera! Vấn felt like a madman. What could he do to exact revenge for this grievance? What meaning did his life hold other than vengeance? He could not let his enemy live freely, brazenly cuckolding him and making love to the woman he cherished most in the world. His previous acts of revenge had been mere trifles; they hadn't inflicted enough damage on his sworn enemy.

Vấn glanced in his rearview mirror. The Lincoln was still tailing him closely. His enemy had caught wind of his actions. Vấn didn't know if Lữ was inside that black car or if it was just a team of hired hitmen. Regardless, the enemy knew, and things were about to get much more difficult. His immediate problem was the black car right on his tail. Vấn wondered what move they would make. He drove past the exit for Beach Boulevard without turning off to head home; unsure of their intentions, he couldn't lead them to his residence.

Vấn was driving straight down the highway toward San Diego, hugging the far-left lane to prevent the Lincoln from overtaking him on that side. He slowed down slightly to gauge the reaction of the car behind. The Lincoln’s driver began to accelerate, pulling up until he was nearly parallel with Vấn’s vehicle. Vấn glanced sharply to his side. He caught a glimpse of a dark-tinted window slowly rolling down. A sinister face appeared in the back seat, and in a split second, Vấn saw the barrel of a silenced gun emerge in the man's hand.
 
Vấn reacted instantly. He ducked down low, keeping his eyes just high enough to see the road, and slammed his foot hard onto the accelerator. His car shot forward like an arrow, leaving the Lincoln far behind. He heard a faint *phut* sound followed by the shattering of glass behind him. He knew he had just narrowly escaped death; the bullet from the hitman’s silenced weapon had missed its mark, grazing his neck and shattering the car window.
Vấn kept the pedal floored, driving like a madman.
 
He realized he was up against professional hitmen sent to kill him—and the person who hired them was undoubtedly Lữ. Lữ had anticipated his revenge plot and moved to eliminate him! A surge of rage at the thought of Lữ helped him steady himself after the near-death shock and focus on handling the critical situation at hand. Vấn knew his Camry was significantly less powerful than the V8 Lincoln chasing him; within moments, the Lincoln would catch up, and this time, they would aim with greater precision.

Vấn began shifting back into the left lane. He noticed traffic in the inner lanes starting to slow down. In the distance, he spotted a tow truck on the shoulder, hoisting up a wrecked vehicle. Ahead of his car was another vehicle with flashing red and blue lights on its roof—a police car! Elated, Vấn pulled close into the innermost lane. He could make out the silhouette of an officer standing by a car door, writing up a report for a vehicle involved in an accident.

Vấn slowed down and pulled over to the curb right next to the police car. He sat still and watched. The Lincoln continued to follow him but dared not stop. Its windows were fully rolled down, and Vấn could see two thugs with menacing, vicious expressions glaring out from inside. They never expected Vấn to find a police car—his salvation—at such a critical moment.

 
Lữ was nowhere to be seen in the car. Vấn knew Lữ would never be foolish enough to show his face during a shooting like this. Yet, luck had been on Vấn's side. Lữ had failed to take him out, forcing Vấn to rethink his plan for revenge. Lữ had tried to strike a lethal blow but failed. Vấn knew he was lucky this time, but what about the future? He had no choice but to strike back—a life-or-death struggle against his enemy. He would need to use all his wits to succeed in this deadly confrontation.

A police officer approached Vấn’s car and asked:

"Is your car broken down or having trouble? Do you need a tow truck?"

Vấn shook his head:

"No! The engine just overheated a bit. I’m just waiting for it to cool down before I drive on."

The officer finished his report and signaled for a tow truck to haul away the wrecked vehicle. The police cruiser then drove off. Vấn followed the cruiser for a short distance before turning around at the first exit. Still uneasy, he drove a considerable distance further; only after checking his rearview mirror and seeing no sign of the Lincoln did he dare head home.

It was already pitch dark, yet Uyên was not at home. "Probably off with that bastard," Vấn thought bitterly. He went upstairs to gather his clothes and a few essentials, taking them out to his car. Finally, he entered the bedroom and unlocked the safe where the couple kept their valuables.
 
He inspected the contents: aside from some of Uyên’s jewelry—which he left untouched—there was about twenty thousand dollars in cash. There were also fifty gold Maple Leaf coins and a stock certificate for 100 shares of IBM. This represented the couple's total savings accumulated over the years, from before Uyên entered the real estate business and formed a partnership with Lữ.
 
Vấn was tormented by the thought of the assets Uyên held in the partnership—over two million dollars. How insignificant his own meager savings, accumulated over years of scraping by, seemed in comparison! He had been wretchedly abandoned simply because he lacked Lữ’s knack for making money. Vấn gritted his teeth. Uyên had scorned him and trampled on his pride; she had heartlessly cast him aside like a tattered garment. And the two of them had conspired to kill him!

For the first time, Vấn felt hatred directed at someone other than Lữ. His thoughts shifted to condemn them both; previously, his animosity had been reserved solely for Lữ. Deep down, his love for Uyên had remained intact, fueled by the hope that she would one day come to her senses and return to him. She would realize that only Vấn truly loved her, and everything would go back to the way it was—as if they had never met Lữ, as if Uyên had never harbored dreams of wealth or been encouraged by Vấn to venture into investments. While his hatred for Lữ had steadily mounted, Vấn had never once resented Uyên—until today!

His life was now in immediate danger. He had narrowly escaped death at the hands of hired assassins—men hired by Lữ, or perhaps by both Uyên and Lữ, to eliminate him and settle the score. His love for Uyên was beginning to dissolve, or perhaps mutate into hatred; Vấn could no longer tell. Yet, the images of both of them—not just Lữ—loomed before him, inseparable targets of the relentless, haunting obsession that consumed his mind. And a smoldering urge drove him toward action—a ruthless, terrible response—to exact a reckoning commensurate with the suffering and resentment he had endured for so long.

Vấn gathered all the cash and IBM stock certificates. He took half of the Maple Leaf gold coins, leaving the rest—along with Uyên’s personal jewelry—untouched; he took only what was his own. He would leave this place, a home that had once sheltered their life together.

Vấn knew he could not stay a moment longer. The hired killers would return to finish him off if he did not vanish into the shadows. To carry out his revenge, he could not let Lữ—his enemy—know his whereabouts or his intentions. He would strike when Lữ least expected it, believing Vấn had given up out of cowardice, having fled in fear of the assassins.
 
Vấn sneered. He would teach the adulterous pair a lesson—to show them that the law of karma exists. And as for the vast net of divine justice, he would be the one to execute the sentence, fully and sternly. For the sake of true justice. For the love he had lost—a love that would never return, having transformed instead into a seething, relentless hatred.

 
Chapter 39
 
Lữ slammed the phone down in a fit of rage. Things had not gone according to plan. Al Montello—a local Mafia boss and associate of his younger brother, Vincent—had failed to get the job done. They had missed their shot at Vấn, allowing him to escape without a trace and creating a whole new set of headaches. Lữ had expected the matter to be resolved quickly and efficiently, just like the earlier hit on Triệu Tôn.

Lữ had turned to Al Montello for help in identifying the mastermind behind the arson at the Garden Grove apartment complex. Montello had dispatched two of his men to make inquiries among Los Angeles’s professional arsonists. Within a day, they confirmed that Joe Battaglio was the one who had torched the rental complex in Garden Grove. Battaglio’s temporary address in Miami was easily located. Two Mafia enforcers were sent to Miami; after a brutal beating that left him half-dead, Battaglio confessed in detail how Vấn had hired him to burn down the apartments in order to frame Lữ.
 
Lữ was not surprised by the report; he had been all but certain of the truth. Vấn had been the source of so much trouble for him for quite some time. It was Kim—an outsider with a keen eye—who had sensed something amiss in the dynamic between Lữ, Uyên, and her husband, prompting Lữ to suspect Vấn.

Thoughts of Kim instantly soothed Lữ’s anger regarding Vấn. The situation would resolve itself; having lost face over this failure, Montello would mobilize all his men to track Vấn down at any cost. Sooner or later, the Mafia would finish Vấn off—partly because of the substantial sum Lữ had agreed to pay Montello, and partly to preserve the reputation of the Cosa Nostra, which Montello could not allow to be tarnished by this botched contract hit.
 
Lữ had already handed over an eighty-thousand-dollar deposit to Montella; the remaining two hundred thousand would be paid once the job on Vấn was done. He had agreed to a higher price than what he’d paid for the hit on Triệu Tôn, as Montella knew he had become vastly wealthier. Lữ didn't mind; he simply wanted the task executed quickly and for Vấn to vanish, resolving the troublesome issues that had plagued him for months.

Lữ brushed aside the unpleasant memory of Montella’s henchmen failing to take Vấn out earlier. His thoughts turned to his dinner date with Kim. He was surprised to find himself feeling as eager as a young man on a first date. Yet, the lingering glow of the night of passion they had shared after dinner in Redondo Beach was extraordinary. He had wanted that night to stretch on forever—never ending—so that the physical sensations and the intensity of Kim’s love could envelop him completely, without pause.

Lữ had known many beautiful, passionate women. There was Miriam from his early days abroad—alluring, exciting, and a boost to the ego of a young Vietnamese man adored and surrendered to by a beautiful white woman. Then there was Uyên—like a piece of ripe fruit—representing the thrill of a forbidden, illicit affair. And there were other beauties from the jet-set scene, spanning from San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York down to the sultry, erotic heat of Caracas and Rio de Janeiro.
 
He had lavished money on women as a form of payback for the days of longing and deprivation spent in the jungles during the war in the South, and the harrowing flight to escape Communist pursuit after April 1975. Lữ had believed he was beyond being surprised or stirred by any woman’s beauty or allure, no matter how stunning or captivating she might be.

But Lữ realized he had been profoundly mistaken. Throughout the night spent passionately making love to Kim, she was unlike any of the women who had previously lain in his arms—and Lữ was certain she would be unlike anyone else who might come into his life in the future. The sensations she evoked were so powerful; Lữ had never known, nor could he have imagined, the intensity of such extraordinary emotions. He had plumbed the depths of desperate pleading and soared to the dizzying heights of ecstatic possession. The magic of their intimacy left Lữ longing—every hour, every minute—to see her again, to be with her, and to make love to her once more.

He had all but forgotten his work and the various troubles caused by Miriam or Uyên—save for the matter of settling the score with Vấn, a task requiring Al Montello’s assistance. Lữ shook his head. He would have to wait for another day to finally banish the lingering image of Vấn from his mind. For now, he would savor the present—a realm free from sorrow and hatred, a place filled only with the image of Kim and the sweet tenderness of her love.
 
The phone rang. Lữ picked it up, his heart pounding like that of an adolescent boy. Kim’s voice was clear, melodious, and as joyful as a young woman’s on the eve of a grand festival:

"Darling! I’m coming to pick you up. Let’s drive up to Malibu for dinner, shall we?"

° ° °

Lữ gazed at Kim, mesmerized. She wore a form-fitting blue top that accentuated her exquisite curves. Her hair cascaded over bare, rounded shoulders, framing skin that glowed with a healthy, rosy radiance. Kim was as fresh as a summer downpour and as magnificent as a rose in full bloom, swaying in the breeze. She shot him a playful, sidelong glance:

"What are you staring at so intently, Lữ? You look as if you’re seeing me for the very first time!"
 
Lữ smiled:

"Why is it that every time I see you, you look ten times more beautiful than before?"
 
Kim shook her head:

"Don't flatter me too much! You know plenty of other beautiful women. Get in the car—I'm driving today."

Lữ got into the convertible Corvette. He nodded:

"You picked a car that really suits you! Do you want to drive all the way up to Malibu for a meal?"

Kim smiled, her face radiant:

"My treat today—to celebrate winning a lawsuit!"

Lữ asked:

"You must have won big for it to be this special?"

Kim nodded:

"My legal team just won a case against the manufacturer of Norplant, the contraceptive implant. I was the lead attorney. They’ve been ordered to pay five million dollars. There’ll be appeals, of course, but I’m confident they’ll agree to settle for around two million."

Lữ did the mental math. A two-million-dollar settlement. The victim gets half, and the legal team gets the other half—one million dollars. Kim was the lead attorney; how much would the firm give her? Kim smiled:

"You're wondering how much I'll get, aren't you? Usually, cases this big involve five or six lawyers working together. Since I'm the lead attorney, I'll get 30 percent. It’s nothing compared to the profits your company makes!"

Lữ shook his head:

"You're brilliant! That’s a huge amount! Where are we going to eat?"

"I'm taking you to *La Biche Dorée*. I hear it's the best restaurant in Malibu."

"Have you ever eaten there?"

Lữ made a noncommittal sound. He had been to that restaurant twice before, but there was no need to tell Kim. She was riding high on her courtroom victory. She was also intoxicated by her new lover, who had given her wonderful moments of intimacy and intense sensations she had never known before.
 
Lữ watched as Kim sped along the empty highway. She was radiant, like the sun breaking through after a stormy night. It was as if the entire world lay within her embrace, as if every one of her desires had suddenly been fulfilled—complete and absolute. All that remained was for her to savor the sweetness of success and the rewards of a destiny that favored her—a destiny she truly deserved.

Lữ was suddenly seized by a fierce desire for her—a wild, consuming urge to possess her then and there. And he understood why: she was just like him, driven by the same formidable impulse for success and the same passion for ceaseless victory. Love had sprung up between them—an inevitable attraction between an invincible general and the goddess of war. In that union, desire, passion, the spirit of combat, love, and sexuality all melded and fused into a single, inseparable whole.

It was like the two of them locked in an endless embrace, spanning the days past and the days yet to come. A sharp pang pierced Lữ’s chest; desire and love enveloped him, leaving him breathless. What was happening to him? He knew he had never felt anything like this before. Was Kim the woman destiny had ordained for him? And yet, Lữ had never once believed in destiny.

 
Lữ took Kim to the restaurant. *La Biche Dorée* was the most famous establishment in the Malibu area—a meeting place for screen stars and the wealthy, powerful elite of Southern California, a spot to see and be seen. Kim had made a reservation, but the *maître d’* informed them there would still be a wait of about half an hour.
 
Lữ led Kim to the adjacent room for cocktails while they waited for their table. He ordered a Martell for himself and a Martini for Kim. Just as he took a sip, he felt Kim lightly touch his arm and point toward the entrance.

Lữ looked over. He saw Miriam and Sơn walking in. He was stunned. It had never crossed his mind that Miriam might be involved with Sơn—his only close friend. Sơn had often taken Miriam to art exhibitions or concerts when Lữ was busy or simply not interested in taking her out himself. But this time was different. Seeing Miriam clutching Sơn’s arm and leaning heavily against him as they entered, Lữ realized she had replaced him with that very friend. And what twist of fate had led them to cross paths with him and Kim right here?

Lữ clicked his tongue. He knew the reason: he had brought Miriam here twice the previous year, and she had particularly loved the place. Had she brought Sơn back to recapture memories of the past, or simply because the food was good? Lữ had no time to ponder this, as Miriam had already spotted him and Kim. Her knees buckled, and she clung tightly to Sơn’s arm to steady herself. Sơn recognized Lữ and Kim as well; he walked over and shook Lữ’s hand, appearing as composed as someone who had long anticipated such a moment. He said:

"I didn't expect to run into you here, Lữ. Miriam insisted I drive all the way up here for dinner. The food must be excellent, right?"

Lữ replied:

"It’s pretty good." "You probably don't know each other yet; let me make the introductions."

He simply rattled off their names. Lữ looked at Miriam. Her face was deathly pale, and she didn't utter a word. Her hand clutched Sơn’s tightly. Her wide eyes fixed on Lữ, silently asking: *Why? Why? What happened to us?* She knew Lữ understood what she was trying to say—yet there was no answer.

Kim spoke up to break the stifling silence:

"I’ve heard so much about you from Lữ, and now I finally get to meet you! You’re beautiful."

Miriam offered a polite, perfunctory reply to Kim, then whispered to Sơn:

"I’m feeling a bit dizzy. Maybe we should eat here another time."

She didn't say a word to Lữ. What was left to say? Right, Lữ? My heart is slowly shattering. Do you even realize that?

Sơn looked at her with pity. He said to Lữ and Kim:

"Let's meet another time. I need to take Miriam home."

Sơn guided her to the door. Miriam leaned heavily against him, lacking the strength to take another step—like a wounded bird. The world went dark before her eyes. Why had Lữ brought his new lover here? To this very restaurant, a place that held a universe of sweet memories from their own romance? Why couldn't he leave her even a shred of the past? Not even the lingering scent of days gone by? How could he be so cruel? And why did he have to exist in this world, only to torment her?

Dark images crowded into Miriam's mind. She hadn't realized her love for Lữ still ran so deep—even though she was with Sơn now, and even though she was deeply moved by the love he offered her. She understood that Sơn embodied everything noble and sincere. Yet the image of Lữ—of ugliness, cruelty, and callousness—still swept over her like a whirlwind; even as it passed, it left behind indelible scars, and the mere memory of it stirred up the most intense, harrowing emotions.

Miriam reproached herself. She could not let the failed relationship—and Lữ—continue to haunt and torment her. Life ahead was precious and fleeting; why let it slip away in sorrow and bitterness? That moment of weakness had only taken hold because the encounter had caught her off guard. Miriam knew she was stronger than that.
 
Besides, she had Sơn by her side. She turned to look at him. They hadn't exchanged a word during the entire drive back to Los Angeles. Miriam ran her fingers gently through Sơn’s hair. She spoke softly, her voice distant, as if she were speaking only to herself:

"I want us to have the wedding after the divorce papers with Lữ are finalized."

 
Chapter 40
 
Lữ watched Kim order as the waiter brought the menu. She appeared completely composed, as if nothing had happened after the encounter with Miriam and Sơn. Lữ silently admired her. Perhaps her career as a lawyer had helped her forge an outer shell—an iron-clad defense that no shock could rattle. She had contended with countless challenges in the courtroom battlefield and within a law firm teeming with cunning veterans and sharks ready to devour the weak or the timid.

Only when she loved Lữ—when they were intimate—did she shed that protective armor to reveal her true self: passionate, ardent, and capable of a raw, innocent emotion not of a worldly, seasoned woman, but of a young girl just coming of age. This contrast intoxicated Lữ like a potent drug; she seemed like two entirely different people depending on the moment. And right now, following the meeting with Miriam, she struck him as the quintessential lawyer. After selecting her meal, Kim said:

"Miriam is still deeply in love with you! She looked so pitiful."

Lữ remained silent, surprised. He had expected Kim to be annoyed or upset by the unexpected encounter, but that wasn't the case at all. If anything, she seemed to feel even more sympathy for Miriam. And that remark—was it an indictment of him? Women are truly unfathomable, Lữ mused. He realized he had miscalculated every prediction regarding a woman's reaction. Those misjudgments had been the root cause of so much trouble he was currently enduring. What else was in store? Shaking his head, Lữ steered the conversation in a different direction:

"Do you have any free time to go to Acapulco with me? Just a quick three-day long weekend trip."
 
Kim shook her head:

"I have three hearings scheduled over the next two weeks. Then I have to prepare the closing argument for a major case. It’ll be at least another two months before I’m free."

Lữ smiled:

"You work so hard—what do you do with all that money?"

Kim replied:

"I just like to get the job done. Money doesn't really matter that much to me."

Lữ nodded:

"You're right! Money isn't as important as professional achievement. Miriam didn't understand that; she thought I was obsessed with the idea of ​​making money. I wasn't *that* bad, surely!"

Kim smiled:

"I know! You wanted to succeed. Naturally, wealth follows success. I think because Miriam grew up in affluence, she couldn't relate to your perspective. Is the paperwork between you and Miriam finished yet?"

Lữ reproached himself. He had let the conversation drift back to Miriam.

"The divorce papers aren't quite finalized. Leibovitz—Miriam's lawyer—is demanding a division of assets, so things are a bit complicated."

Kim was curious. She instinctively shifted into the role of a lawyer advising a client—who happened to be her lover:

"Miriam is so wealthy; is she really demanding a share of *your* assets?"

Lữ nodded dejectedly:

"There was a prenuptial agreement regarding the assets she held before the marriage. But for the assets acquired *during* the marriage, Leibovitz is insisting on a fifty-fifty split, so it’s become a real mess."

Kim mused:

"I don't think you have any other choice if she’s determined to force a division. She probably doesn't need the money; she just wants to retaliate against you."

She didn't say it aloud, but Kim understood Miriam. This form of punishment Miriam was inflicting on Lữ caused him far more anguish than the time Vấn had hired someone to burn down the apartment complex to hurt him. And she knew that Miriam would never forgive Lữ. Unless, of course, she found a new love and stopped paying any attention to Lữ. Kim thought of Sơn. She didn't know much about this friend of Lữ's, yet her intuition told her that Sơn held the key to resolving Lữ's problem.

Kim asked:
 
"Tell me about Sơn—the man who was with Miriam earlier. What is his role in your partnership?"

Lữ replied:

"Sơn has been a close friend of mine since our days in the military back in Vietnam. Now, he oversees the shopping centers and hotels for the partnership. He also assists me with venture capital investments in two San Jose-based internet software companies. He manages practically every aspect of the partnership's operations."

Kim pondered for a moment:

"You trust Sơn that much?"

Lữ smiled:

"Sơn saved my life on several occasions, and I saved his during some of the fiercest battles. We’ve been through life-and-death situations together; how could I not trust him?"

Lữ spoke of Sơn with conviction, yet deep down, a seed of doubt began to take root. Today, Sơn had arrived at the restaurant with Miriam looking like a couple—unlike the times Lữ had asked him to escort her to art galleries or concerts. He wanted to keep believing in Sơn, his only true friend. But what if Sơn was siding with Miriam in her quest for revenge? Lữ didn't want to entertain the thought. If Sơn betrayed him, what else in this world could he possibly believe in?

Kim nodded:

"I don't know Sơn well yet, but he seems like a good man. My first impressions of people are rarely wrong. I’ll have a chat with him sometime."

Lữ nodded without speaking. He shared Kim’s view; if Miriam were to couple up with Sơn, it would resolve many issues for him. Lữ felt a touch of irony. The thought of his ex-wife taking up with a friend carried a hint of the sordidness he used to scoff at when it happened to others. Experiencing it himself felt bizarre and slightly embarrassing. Although he no longer loved Miriam, he still respected and felt grateful to her. Without Miriam’s initial help and encouragement, Lữ could never have built the fortune he possessed today.

Sơn was his close friend and a key asset to his business. Miriam deserved someone like Sơn, and Sơn was a good match for her in many ways—unlike Lữ. Perhaps fate had brought them together? Lữ frowned. Why did thoughts of fate keep circling in his mind? He had always prided himself on rejecting the notion of fate. Had he grown weak enough to start believing in it? No! Fate could not be the deciding factor in his life. What had happened between him and Miriam was simply inevitable.

Sơn and Miriam coming together was merely the natural consequence of Lữ abandoning Miriam, leaving Sơn—his friend—there to comfort her. His meeting with Kim was simply the result of his entanglements with the police and the legal system. And Kim loving him was just the natural outcome of their meeting! Fate could not be the reason for the events of his life. Lữ was certain that even if he could foresee his fate, he would use every ounce of his strength to alter it, regardless of whether the outcome was good or bad. Besides, he had never once believed in fate.

Lữ looked at Kim. Whether she was his destiny didn't matter to him. He only knew that she was beautiful, alluring, and deeply in love with him. Why dwell on matters that are utterly meaningless and unworthy of attention? Life moves so swiftly; happiness and existence unfold in such splendor that one cannot let trivial thoughts diminish their intensity. He took a sip of wine and gazed deep into Kim’s eyes.

"Have a drink with me, Kim! We can discuss those other things another time. After dinner, let’s head back to Century City to see that musical—the one that just arrived from Broadway. I hear it’s fantastic."

And then, a long night of lovemaking with Kim awaited! Lữ drained his glass. Life was beautiful! What more could he ask for? Troubles would eventually pass. In that moment, Lữ sincerely hoped his close friend would bring happiness to Miriam—a happiness she deserved, yet one he had refused to give her. It was simply the law of love. And of life itself.

 
Chapter 41
 
Uyên opened the door and entered the house, immediately sensing something amiss. A few of Vấn’s socks and undergarments were scattered across the floor, and the furniture was out of place. Her bedroom door stood wide open. Her first instinct was to call 911, but she stopped herself. She noticed that the strewn clothing belonged entirely to Vấn—none of it was hers.
 
Uyên walked into the bedroom. The combination-lock box where she kept her jewelry, gold, and cash was wide open. She checked the contents. Her jewelry was untouched, but half of the Maple Leaf gold coins were missing. A thief wouldn't have left things that way. Uyên understood immediately. Vấn had taken half of their shared savings—the meager sum they had accumulated before she entered the real estate business and struck it rich with Lữ. He had moved out, taking his clothes and personal belongings with him.

Uyên sat down on the edge of the bed. Vấn’s abrupt departure caught her off guard. She had often intended to discuss divorce with him but had hesitated, held back by reluctance. She knew Vấn was fully aware of her affair and was suffering because of it, yet broaching the subject of divorce remained daunting. How would he react? His sullen demeanor in recent days worried her. Would he readily agree to go to court and sign the papers, or would he fly into a rage and do something irrational?

Men abandoned by their wives were capable of unimaginable acts; Uyên had heard countless stories from clients and business associates along Bolsa Avenue. There were men—previously gentle souls who wouldn't even harm an ant—who had shot their wives and young children before turning the gun on themselves. She had heard of a man who, upon discovering his wife’s infidelity, set their house on fire, leaving her severely burned and permanently disabled. Uyên had listened to such gruesome tales to satisfy her curiosity, yet she never imagined such things could happen to her. Those horrors befell other people—or so she had believed.

She was confident she could control and rein in Vấn. On the rare occasions when he seemed overly tense or despondent, she would let him sleep with her, and invariably, things would return to normal; he would go back to being docile, stoically enduring the nights she spent with Lữ. Men weren't all that hard to manage, she often thought; a little sexual gratification was all it took to bring them right back into line.

Lately, however, Vấn had changed. He wore a constant scowl and wouldn't even crack a smile when spoken to. He seemed consumed by dark thoughts—a gloominess clearly etched on his face—and Uyên began to worry. A few times, he even rebuffed her advances—gestures he had previously regarded as a privilege. His habit of staying up until dawn, buried in papers concerning matters she didn't understand, only deepened her unease. She felt it was time to broach the subject of divorce. If she could no longer control Vấn as she wished, the best course of action was to lay her cards on the table and part ways amicably.

What made her hesitate was the issue of asset division. Her share in the partnership with Lữ had grown to two million US dollars; if Vấn demanded half—just as Miriam was demanding a share of Lữ’s assets—she would be left with only one million. Uyên could not accept that. After all, it was the fruit of her own hard work over the years that had built up such a substantial fortune. Vấn had made no significant contribution other than introducing Lữ to the bank where he worked to secure a loan.

In reality, with Miriam’s assets serving as collateral, Lữ could have gone to any other bank and obtained the loan just as easily. Involving Vấn at the outset had merely been a matter of convenience to expedite the process. Uyên felt resentful when she thought about U.S. divorce laws regarding asset division. If she had to give Vấn half of her share in the partnership, who knew how long it would take to rebuild the lost capital? She had consulted a lawyer about the divorce and was told there was little chance she could keep the money—preventing it from being split with Vấn—if he demanded his share during the proceedings.

Furthermore, the lawyer’s air of relish at the prospect of a messy divorce—one involving a substantial, contested division of assets—made Uyên uncomfortable and apprehensive. She had heard stories of divorce and asset disputes that dragged on for years, with the bulk of the wealth ending up in the pockets of lawyers—vultures who deliberately prolonged the process for profit.

Uyên had given the matter much thought and concluded that negotiation was the best approach. She knew Vấn’s character: greedy and stingy, yet capable of weighing the pros and cons. She was willing to part with two or three hundred thousand dollars to settle the issue, but nothing more. She was also certain Vấn understood perfectly well that she would never agree to split the partnership’s assets 50-50. It was simply a matter of negotiation, and she was confident she could persuade him.
 
It wasn't until today—with Vấn’s disappearance throwing her entire schedule into disarray—that Uyên realized she had underestimated Vấn and failed to anticipate his reaction. What had been the final straw? Uyên wondered. It had been nearly two weeks since she had last spent the night at home with Lữ. Something other than her affair must have driven Vấn to leave without a word of explanation. Her anxiety deepened when she discovered that the self-defense gun Vấn had bought years ago—hidden at the bottom of the lowest drawer—was gone, too.

° ° °

Uyên spoke to Lữ in a reproachful tone:

"Where were you last night? I tried calling you several times but couldn't get through."

Lữ lied, his manner nonchalant.

"Oh, I was out to dinner with some guys from Hong Kong who are looking to buy our hotel in Santa Monica. Did you need something?"

He covered his mouth to stifle a yawn; a night of passion with Kim had left him exhausted and sleep-deprived. He dreaded the thought that Uyên might demand the same kind of intimacy Kim had the night before. He knew he had been neglecting Uyên lately, and the resulting guilt irritated him. Why was he lying to Uyên just as he had to Miriam in the past? Seeing her face fall, he felt a pang of pity. Softening his tone, he added:

"I meant to call and tell you about the dinner, but my cell phone was acting up. Want to join me for dinner tonight?"

Uyên’s face lit up. The prospect of spending the night with Lữ after dinner filled her with delight. She smiled broadly:

"Of course! For the last two weeks, I thought you’d forgotten all about me. Let’s go to the Beverly Hills Hotel tonight! I’ll book the Presidential Suite for us, just like last month."

Lữ nodded. He asked:

- What did you want to talk about when you called me last night?

The smile vanished from Uyên’s face:

- I called about Vấn. Vấn has run away from home!

Although Al Montello had already informed him about the failed attempt to shoot Vấn, Lữ feigned surprise:

- What? When did Vấn leave? Didn't he say anything to you?

Uyên shook her head:

- No! Vấn packed up and left without a word. I have no idea where he is now. What do you think I should do?

Lữ mused:

- You need to be very careful. Vấn’s reactions are unpredictable. It’s best to take precautions.

He made no mention of the fact that Montello’s henchmen were actively hunting Vấn down. There was no need for Uyên to know about—or get dragged into—his plan to eliminate Vấn. Lữ was confident the matter would be resolved within a few days; Montello had given him his word on it.

He steered the conversation in a different direction:

- How are things going with the groups looking at the Bolsa shopping complex? Has anyone made an offer yet?

Uyên nodded:

- Two groups are currently negotiating. One is a Taiwanese group, and the other is a Vietnamese group from San Jose looking to set up a business here. I’ve refused to lower the price, so nothing is finalized yet.

Lữ said:

- You should come down a bit on the price to close the deal faster. I feel we need to get out of the Southern California real estate market within the next month. Housing prices are on the verge of dropping. Selling now would be just right; it’ll be hard to sell if we wait any longer, Uyên.

Uyên asked:

- Do you really believe housing prices here will drop that fast? It looks to me like prices are still rising.

Lữ shook his head:

- Residential property prices always shift more slowly than commercial real estate. You have to remember that business investors have a keener sense for these things than the average person buying a home to live in. Housing prices are still rising, but I see the broader real estate market stalling—and stalling means a downturn is coming. If you sell right now, we’ll get the best price. Wait another month, and we could easily lose thirty or forty percent of the value. I’ve already agreed to sell the Santa Monica hotel to the Hong Kong Chinese group. You just focus on finalizing the sale of these two shopping centers in Anaheim and Bolsa, Uyên.

Uyên nodded:

- Since you put it that way, I’ll handle the sale to that Vietnamese-owned company in San Jose. They secure financing faster than the Taiwanese group. We can wrap it up in about two weeks!

Lữ said:

- That sounds good. Sơn is also close to finishing the sale of the other smaller properties. We’re pulling everything out of the local real estate market. Let the competition laugh at us for now; in a few months, when they’re in deep trouble, we’ll be the ones laughing!

 
Chapter 42
 
Uyên asked Lữ:

"How are things going with that venture capital gamble on the two software companies in San José?"

Lữ smiled:

"Don't worry! It’s not a gamble. We invested a million dollars in Comnet for a 20% stake. For NetSoft, we put in half a million for 40% ownership. Sơn told me Comnet’s software looks very promising; it could hit Wall Street in about six months. At the current rate of growth, if we sell our shares on Wall Street, we’ll make a fortune!"

Uyên’s eyes lit up:

"How much could we make?"

Lữ replied:

"It depends! If Comnet’s software becomes widely adopted, Wall Street will snap it up, and we’ll win big. But if the software has glitches and no one uses it, our investment will vanish instantly. Sơn mentioned that Goldman Sachs might handle Comnet’s market debut—acting as the underwriter. They’d likely sell a million shares, initially valued at around ten dollars each. If sales take off and there’s a buying frenzy on the first day—the IPO—the stock price could easily jump to fifteen or twenty dollars a share. Sơn told me our 20% venture capital stake in Comnet amounts to two million shares. So, if Goldman Sachs sells them at ten dollars a share, we’d have twenty million—not to mention the potential for the price to go even higher!"

Uyên gasped, barely able to catch her breath:

"Twenty million! A twenty-fold return! That would be a massive profit!"

Lữ nodded:

"It has to be a huge return, because there are so many hurdles ahead. Anything could happen." Comnet’s software seems promising, but there are plenty of other competitors out there. Even if the company makes it to Wall Street, there’s no guarantee the stock price will hold steady. The share price might rise after the IPO, but it could just as easily plummet to a dollar or two!

Uyên asked:

"So, why don't we sell off our entire stake in Comnet right after it hits the stock market? We could lock in the profit and play it safe."

Lữ shook his head:

"Since we put venture capital into Comnet, we’re considered 'insiders.' We usually aren't allowed to sell our stock immediately; we have to wait six months or even a year before we can sell."

Uyên clicked her tongue:

"That’s such a hassle! I thought we could cash out right away."

Lữ laughed:

"Life’s rarely that simple! But Sơn told me that for our first venture capital investment, hitting the jackpot like this is incredibly lucky."

Uyên asked:

"Once we sell all the real estate, what do you plan to do with the money?"

Lữ joked:

"We could split it in half and blow it all just for the fun of it!"

Seeing Uyên’s face fall, Lữ quickly added:

"No, I’m just kidding! I plan to invest in the stock market. We’ll step back from California real estate for a while to keep an eye on prices. We might come back later, but I suspect it’ll take a few years for the California market to recover. In the meantime, I think pouring our funds into stocks could yield a huge win!"

Uyên asked:

"But aren't we already investing in two software companies?"

Lữ said:

"That’s a different kind of venture capital gamble. We might turn our Comnet investment into twenty times the amount, but I don't have much hope for the half-million we put into NetSsoft. Chances are, we’ll lose that half-million entirely."
 
He explained that the plan for the five-million-dollar share from the partnership—following the sale of all the real estate—was to invest in major corporations like Exxon, Coca-Cola, and IBM.

Uyên nodded. She and Vấn had bought IBM stock as a form of savings a few years back. Vấn had tried to explain the ins and outs of stock trading to her, but she hadn't paid much attention. Where was Vấn going? What would he do?
 
Uyên felt dazed. Her intuition warned her of danger. She wanted to see Vấn one last time to resolve their complicated romantic situation—and to simplify her life. She figured she would likely have to agree to give Vấn a substantial portion of the assets she currently held through the partnership. Would he settle for 20% or 30%? It certainly couldn't be half!

Uyên shook her head. Lữ’s voice startled her:

"What’s wrong?"

She replied:

"Nothing! I was just thinking about the IBM stock. Since Vấn and I bought it a few years ago, the price hasn't gone up—it’s actually dropped sharply!"

Lữ smiled:

"Don't worry! I’ve been trading stocks for years; I know what I’m doing. Actually, buying when the price is low like that is how you make a big profit when it eventually rises. I invest in stocks from major companies that show strong growth potential—around 30 to 40% annually—while keeping the investment safe. It’s far better than putting money in the bank for a one-year CD! That five million dollars from our partnership—once the real estate paperwork is finalized—will turn into ten million in just two or three years! I guarantee it."

Uyên smiled:

"I’ve never doubted your talent! It was entirely thanks to you that our partnership grew from nothing to five million dollars in just a few years. I’m following your lead, after all! But I do wonder—why do you want to put all that money into the stock market?"

Lữ nodded:

- I’ve studied this thoroughly. Here in capitalist America, there are only two ways to get rich fast: real estate and Wall Street. We’ve already achieved a measure of success in California real estate; if we want to build even more wealth, nothing beats the stock market. But you have to be smart and have a keen instinct for it—plus, you need to calculate everything carefully. I want to split our investment capital. One part goes into venture capital—it’s the riskiest approach, but the potential returns are massive. The rest goes into stocks, which are a safer bet. That way, we strike a balance between risk-taking and caution. The most successful investments in this country all follow that kind of formula.

Uyên grasped Lữ’s hand. Her palm felt hot, as if she were coming down with a fever:

- I trust you! Invest in whatever you want. You never fail at anything, after all!

Lữ planted a light kiss on Uyên’s lips. He knew that talking about investments and wealth-building always stirred up excitement and desire in her. But there was one more thing he needed to discuss:

- While we’re on the subject, I want to mention the partnership paperwork. I want to assign Triệu Tôn’s share to you once the lawyer finalizes the documents next month!

Uyên pulled her hand away, her eyes wide with surprise:

- What did you say? You want to give Triệu Tôn’s entire share to me?
 
Lữ nodded:

- That’s right! I’m not taking Triệu Tôn’s portion. You get it all!

Uyên exclaimed:

- Why? Aren't you afraid of me taking control of the partnership? If I add Triệu Tôn’s share to my own, I’ll hold 60% while you’re left with only 40%!

Lữ smiled:

- So what? You’ll become the managing partner, and I can just work for you!
 
Uyên pondered for a moment:

"Is it because of your divorce case with Miriam?"

Lữ marveled:

"You’re so smart! You guessed it right away! That lawyer, Leibovitz, is demanding half of my share in the partnership for Miriam, so I didn't have any other choice!"

Uyên smiled:

"I see! You want me to hold onto your share so you won't have to give as much to Miriam if she wins the lawsuit, right?"

Lữ nodded. He was grateful for Uyên’s intelligence and tact; she had spared him the need to explain the awkward and unpleasant details of asset division.

Uyên reassured him:

"Don't worry! I’ll only hold it for you on paper. Once your divorce with Miriam is settled, I’ll give it back to you! As for being the managing partner—I’m leaving that to you, of course! Why on earth would I want to take on such a headache?"

Lữ breathed a sigh of relief. He had intended to bring this up with Uyên several times but had hesitated. She made everything so simple! He took her hand; it was burning hot. Her eyes were moist and glistening with deep emotion. Lữ gently guided her toward the door. He planted a light kiss on her long, silky hair:

"That’s enough talk about business! Let me treat you tonight. I love the Presidential Suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel just as much as you do. I promise you’ll enjoy it ten times more than before!"

 
Chapter 43
 
Vấn turned onto Hill Street and slowed down. The road leading into the heart of Chinatown grew increasingly narrow, cluttered with delivery trucks parked in front of shops and markets that blocked the way. Vấn had to find a parking spot and walk to the address he was looking for. After some searching, he found a small side street off Hill Street that ended in a cul-de-sac.
 
At the end of the lane stood a small, dilapidated shop with its door tightly shut. Outside, a rusted brass plaque bore the name "Cheng Tok Trading Company." Vấn pushed the door open and stepped inside. An elderly Chinese man wearing a dirty, tattered undershirt stared at him. He cleared his throat loudly and spat into a chipped porcelain spittoon in the corner of the room. He asked in a gruff voice:

"What do you want?"

Vấn glanced around the room and nodded.

"I want to see Henry Cheng. I have an appointment with him for two o'clock this afternoon."

The old man hawked up another glob of phlegm before turning toward the back room:

"Wait here. Let me see if Henry wants to see you."

Vấn sat on a rickety chair near the counter and waited. He was somewhat surprised by the shabby state of Cheng Tok Trading, but he quickly understood. A company serving as a front for a criminal organization like the Triads needed to be as inconspicuous as possible. Neither the Los Angeles police nor the FBI would ever suspect that this humble shop, tucked away in an obscure alley, was the command center for a Triad organization controlling Chinese commercial interests throughout Chinatown and all of Southern California.

It had taken Vấn nearly a week of investigation to track down this address for Cheng Tok Trading. After leaving home to evade the thugs who had tried—and failed—to shoot him on Highway 405, Vấn rented a room at a cheap motel in North Hollywood. He holed up in the room for nearly three days, ordering food from a nearby Domino’s Pizza. He contacted no one, save for a single call to his office to report that he was seriously ill and needed time off.

On the first day, Vấn tried not to think about anything, focusing instead on sleeping to keep his mind idle. He knew he needed to recover from the shock of the near-fatal attack, and nothing beat a long sleep; he remained in a deep slumber for over twenty-four hours. Upon waking, Vấn felt refreshed and clear-headed. He began to think about Lữ, Uyên, and what needed to be done.

Vấn knew that to defeat his enemy, he had to find Lữ’s weak spot. But what was it? He sat at the desk and listed Lữ’s strengths and weaknesses, along with potential vulnerabilities he could exploit. He considered the connection between Lữ and professional hitmen. If Lữ could easily mobilize a Mafia-style crew to take him out, it implied that Lữ was accustomed to such tactics within the operations of the partnership he shared with Uyên.

A thought suddenly flashed through Vấn’s mind. The VietCal Partnership consisted of three people: Lữ, Uyên, and a man of mixed Chinese heritage named Triệu Tôn. Triệu Tơn’s death in a car accident had enriched both Uyên and Lữ, thanks to an unusual clause in the partnership agreement: each partner was covered by a one-million-dollar life insurance policy, and should one die prematurely, their share would be divided between the remaining two, thereby preventing the partnership from having to dissolve and distribute assets to heirs.
 
Could it be that Triệu Tôn’s sudden death was not an accident? Uyên had told him about Lữ’s composure and swift handling of the paperwork on the day Triệu Tôn died. She had lavished praise on Lữ for his wisdom and foresight in mandating life insurance for every partner—as if he had foreseen the future and prepared for everything!

Vấn sneered. At the time, he had felt annoyed hearing Uyên praise Lữ. His own passivity had led him to merely nod along and change the subject just to avoid hearing more about the man. But today, in a different light, Lữ’s calm demeanor upon hearing of Triệu Tôn’s death took on a new significance. It was no accident; the culprit was none other than Lữ—his sworn enemy.

Vấn sensed that Triệu Tôn’s death would be the key to his revenge, as well as a shield protecting his own life. The Mafia hitmen were surely hunting him down relentlessly; there was no way they would let him live in peace after their last failed attempt! He could not keep hiding forever. And the best form of defense was a counterattack. He had to uncover the secrets behind Triệu Tôn’s death and use them to bring Lữ down!

Vấn called Á Trung Market—the Vietnamese and Chinese grocery store on Hill Street that Triệu Tôn had once owned. Uyên had told him about this business—the place where she had met Triệu Tôn and where he had pursued and harassed her. She had mentioned to Vấn that she couldn't understand how Triệu Tôn had the capital to open such a large market. There had to be money coming from the Chinese—whether from Hong Kong or Taiwan—to fund Trieu Ton’s business ventures. She also harbored suspicions regarding the legitimacy of the investment provided by these Chinese backers.

 
Vấn pondered the matter. At the time, he had agreed with Uyên that the Chinese group’s funding of Triệu Tôn seemed suspicious, though he hadn't paid it much mind back then. He understood perfectly well that wealthy Hong Kong Chinese were constantly seeking ways to move their capital to the United States, Canada, or Australia. Working at Bank of America, he had witnessed massive sums—tens of millions of US dollars—transferred via wire from the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank to his own institution to settle huge investments made by Hong Kong’s capitalist tycoons.

Yet, those were legitimate transfers—transparent investments by major international corporations headquartered in Hong Kong. The financial transactions were properly recorded, and taxes were duly paid. However, with his years of experience, Vấn knew all too well that alongside these legal transfers, there were countless illicit movements of capital and off-the-books investments. Hong Kong tycoons—*taipans* and magnates—would stash away colossal fortunes to evade taxes or hide proceeds from illegal business dealings, seeking to funnel that "dirty" money into ventures—whether legal or otherwise—in the United States.

Providing funds to Triệu Tôn to open a large market like Á Trung on Chinatown’s Hill Street was a legitimate business move. Similarly, putting down a deposit to purchase the shopping complex on Bolsa Avenue—a venture involving Uyên, Lữ, and their partnership—was a lawful investment. Yet, Vấn was certain that the capital used for these investments had been amassed through illicit means.

He recalled the day the deal for the Bolsa shopping complex closed. Vấn had been present in his capacity as a Bank of America loan officer. He had been both surprised and flustered in front of his superiors when Triệu Tôn arrived to make the down payment with hundreds of cashier's checks—none of which exceeded two thousand dollars.
 
The reason was simple: Triệu Tôn had used cash to have various individuals purchase—at different banks—hundreds of cashier's checks, each valued at under two thousand dollars, specifically to avoid the mandatory IRS reporting triggered by large cash purchases of such instruments. This implied that the cash involved was illicit money being invested through Triệu Tôn as an intermediary.

Vấn recalled a meeting at Bank of America for loan officers, featuring a presentation by an FBI agent specializing in money laundering investigations—specifically, the process of converting illicit proceeds from criminal drug organizations into legitimate investments. After discussing the Mafia and Colombian drug cartels, the agent turned to the subject of Hong Kong Triads. These Chinese criminal organizations operated out of California and were expanding across the United States.

Given that Bank of America was headquartered in California, the FBI agent urged the staff to exercise extreme vigilance when handling financial services for Hong Kong merchants or Chinese individuals residing in Los Angeles and San Francisco. According to the FBI, between 30 and 40 percent of major investments made by Chinese individuals in Southern California involved illicit funds linked to Triad criminal organizations.

Vấn had previously harbored suspicions about the money Triệu Tôn invested in the VietCal Partnership, yet he had not associated it with the Triads at the time. However, while resting in a shabby motel room—his mind clear and alert after a full day and night of sleep—Vấn connected the dots between the hundreds of cashier's checks and the FBI briefing on the Triads.
 
He instantly realized that Triệu Tôn was likely a Triad operative, using the organization's illicit capital to open markets and make investments; this served to launder money generated from Triad-run drug trafficking and prostitution, while simultaneously generating further profits for the organization within the U.S. capitalist market. Triệu Tôn’s death was inevitably linked to his affiliation with the Triad.
 
If Vấn—after just a single day of pondering in his motel room—could spot the connection between the Triad and that mixed-race man, Lữ surely knew it too. Vấn saw no reason for the Triad itself to kill Triệu Tôn; he was the frontman they needed to handle investments and business dealings that generated profit for the criminal organization. Lữ must have been the one behind the killing; knowing Triệu Tôn’s Triad ties, staging his death as an accident allowed Lữ to kill two birds with one stone. He could resolve the issue of VietCal Partnership’s investment involving Triad money while simultaneously increasing his own equity share in the company, leaving only himself and Uyên as partners.

And if Lữ had remained undisturbed by the Triad for months, it meant the criminal organization harbored no suspicions regarding the staged car accident—they were evidently satisfied with the payout from Triệu Tôn’s one-million-dollar life insurance policy.

Vấn curled his lips into a cold, cynical smile. Lữ thought he was clever enough to outwit the formidable and ruthless Chinese Triad, but he couldn't fool Vấn. Lữ had staged the accident to sever ties with the Triad, but Vấn wasn't about to let this wretched enemy off the hook. He knew that only by leveraging the Triad could he take Lữ down and escape the hitmen Lữ had hired to eliminate him. The crucial question was: how could he make contact with the Triad?
 
The person who answered the phone at the Á Trung market was a Chinese man speaking Vietnamese with a heavy accent. He sounded surly when Vấn asked to speak to the boss:

"There’s no boss here! What do you want?"

Vấn replied in a calm, conciliatory tone:

"Tell the boss I’m a friend of Triệu Tôn—the former owner of the Á Trung market. I have an important matter to discuss regarding Triệu Tôn’s death."

The voice on the other end fell silent. A moment later, Vấn heard a curt response:

"Hold on."

Vấn waited nearly ten minutes before hearing a different voice speak in English:

"Who are you?"

Vấn answered:

"You don't need to know who I am! I have important information about the death of Triệu Tôn—information your boss would want to know. I want to meet your boss!"

He guessed this man was merely a subordinate, not a key figure. The man on the line thought for a moment before replying:

"The boss doesn't have time to talk to you unless it's something truly important. You need to be more specific."

Vấn hesitated briefly before answering:

"Tell your boss I have proof that Triệu Tôn didn't die in an accident, and that your boss suffered a huge loss because of Triệu Tôn's death!"

He knew that only by asserting the existence of evidence regarding Triệu Tôn's murder—and dangling the prospect of gain—could he hope to meet the Triad's key figure in the area. Vấn heard the faint sound of hushed conversation coming through the line. He waited a while. Finally, the English speaker replied:

"Give me your phone number. We’ll contact you in an hour to let you know the boss's decision."

Vấn hung up the phone and let out a long breath. He knew the fish had taken the bait. The Triad couldn't simply overlook the killing of Triệu Tôn and the massive financial loss they had suffered. They needed to verify his phone number to ensure he wasn't with the LAPD or the FBI. Once they called the motel back and obtained the address, they would post lookouts before bringing him in to meet the boss.

Exactly one hour later, the phone rang. Vấn snatched up the receiver. It was the same Triad member who had spoken in English earlier:

"The boss wants to meet you in person. I’ll give you directions. Just remember, we already have eyes on you. If you try anything funny, you know what we’ll do to you!"

Vấn knew they weren't making idle threats; he had heard plenty about the Triad's ruthless methods. He replied:

"Don't worry. What I have to tell your boss will bring you all huge profits. I’m not stupid enough to lie and bring disaster down on myself!"

The Triad member gave him directions and told him he would meet Henry Cheng in exactly two hours. He didn't forget to issue one final threat before hanging up:

"Look out the window. You’ll see someone watching you. And remember—if we see you carrying a gun, you’ll be shot on sight."

 
Chapter 44
 
Vấn followed the grubby old Chinese man down a long corridor and through a closed door. The door opened. Vấn stepped into a spacious room and was truly astonished. No one would have suspected that behind the tiny, dilapidated shop lay a magnificent mansion, lavishly furnished and filled with precious antiques.
 
A beautiful maid in a cheongsam dress brought a tea tray and invited him to sit. Vấn took a sip. The tea was thick and unusually sweet—clearly a premium blend. He sat waiting for a moment, observing his surroundings. This setting was neither a Triad headquarters nor the base of operations for the Los Angeles Triad leader.

A middle-aged man entered. Vấn stood up, guessing it was Henry Cheng. The man was of medium build, dressed in a large grey suit with a black bow tie. His face bore a distinctly cruel look, with a long scar on his cheek that contrasted strangely with his English—polite and refined, like that of a Hong Kong Chinese man educated at Oxford or Cambridge.

"I am Henry Cheng. I’m afraid I don’t yet know your name."

Van extended his hand.

"I’m Vấn. I’m an acquaintance of Triệu Tôn."

Henry Cheng nodded.

"Triệu Tơn was one of our men. Do you have any information regarding his death?"

Van studied the Triad man before him. The man’s tone was no longer polite; he had dropped the refined British accent entirely, switching to a standard American one. *This guy is a good actor,* Van thought. He sat back down and took a sip of tea.

"Excellent tea! It must have been brought all the way from mainland China."

"You’re right." "This tea grows atop Con Son Peak; it is incredibly difficult to harvest. But I am certain you didn't come here just to talk about tea."

Vấn nodded and asked:

"What do you know about the company VietCal Partnership?"

Cheng replied:

"It is a real estate investment firm in Orange County. Triệu Tôn asked for our permission to invest capital with them. What is your connection to VietCal Partnership?"

Vấn lied:

"I am one of the company's partners."

*I’m only telling half the truth!* Vấn thought bitterly. Uyên was the actual partner, but she was still his wife. Legally, her share of the partnership belonged to her husband. Vấn shook his head bitterly. *Here I am, still thinking about my marriage to Uyên.*

He continued:

"VietCal Partnership has three shares. The largest shareholder is a man named Lữ. The second share belongs to Triệu Tôn, and the third to my wife and me. One of the partnership's bylaws states that if a partner dies, their share is divided equally between the remaining two partners so the company doesn't have to dissolve. The deceased partner's heir receives a one-million-dollar life insurance payout, funded by the partnership."

Cheng nodded:

"We are aware of that. Triệu Tôn died in a car accident. We received the full one-million-dollar payout from the insurance company. You told an employee at the Á Trung market that you had proof regarding Triệu Tôn's death. What proof?"

Cheng spoke in a cold, sharp tone. He was losing the affable demeanor he had shown earlier. Vấn remained unruffled. He was far calmer now than when he had first stepped into the house. After all, the Triads were nothing more than common thugs. No matter how good the act, they are all just like this Henry Cheng—polished in appearance and speech, yet a murderous scoundrel underneath. They still lacked the intelligence to grasp Lữ’s scheme. Vấn explained:
 
"Triệu Tôn’s initial stake in the company was three hundred thousand. With his death, you collected a million in life insurance—a massive profit, wouldn't you say?"

Vấn smiled, his tone tinged with disdain:

"Do you have any idea what Triệu Tôn’s share would be worth today if he were still alive? Over two million dollars! That means you’ve actually lost out on more than a million. And Triệu Tôn’s death? It was nothing but a staged car accident!"

Henry Cheng asked, his voice sharpening; he sensed Vấn’s contempt:

"I’ll ask you again: where is the proof that Triệu Tôn was murdered?"

Vấn calmly pulled out a Dunhill cigarette and lit it:

"My proof is Lữ—the company’s managing partner—who is trying to kill us off to claim all the remaining shares for himself! He took a shot at me on Highway 405 a few days ago; you can still see the bullet hole in my car. Lữ hired hitmen to take us out so he could have the company all to himself—just as he hired someone to kill Triệu Tôn by staging that car crash. I imagine your organization is more than capable of investigating that."

Cheng cut him off:

"What organization? We don’t have an organization. It was simply a business investment with Triệu Tôn—nothing more. But I will look into Triệu Tôn’s accident."

He stared intently at Vấn. After a moment, Cheng finally spoke:

"What is your purpose in meeting us to reveal this plot to kill Triệu Tôn?"

Vấn smiled:

"I simply want you to know more about Lữ and his murder of Triệu Tôn. Triệu Tôn was a close friend of mine. I do not want him to die an unjust death with no one to avenge him."
 
Vấn smiled inwardly. He knew only a little about this filthy half-Chinese man from what Uyên had told him. The man always tried to stay well out of Vấn's sight, terrified that Vấn might find out he was making moves on Uyên!

Cheng also smiled—a sinister, cruel smile. He spoke:

"You want us to avenge Triệu Tôn—assuming it’s true that Lữ hired someone to kill him. We’ll do what needs to be done, but why should we help *you*? If Lữ hires someone to kill you too, what does that have to do with us?"

Vấn had anticipated this question and had his answer ready:

"There’s plenty in it for you! The total assets of the VietCal company are worth over eight million US dollars. If Lữ manages to kill us, he gets the whole fortune. But if Lữ dies, the company becomes ours. And we’ll hand over Triệu Tôn’s entire share—worth more than two million dollars—to your organization!"

Vấn kept using the word "we"—referring to himself and Uyên. He hoped the Triad wouldn't discover that Uyên was actually the partner who had betrayed him and was having an affair with Lữ. Vấn continued:

"If Lữ takes us out first and you kill him later, you won't get a thing. All the company's assets would go to Lữ's heirs. Only if we’re protected from Lữ’s hitmen and you manage to kill Lữ will you be able to recover Triệu Tôn’s stake in the company."

Henry Cheng pondered this. Vấn knew the fish had taken the bait. Triệu Tôn’s two-million-dollar share was no small sum; there was no way the Triad would pass up such a lucrative opportunity. Cheng said:

"So, you want us to protect you and kill Lữ before his henchmen kill you." "But that way, you’d get the entire company share. Remember, if Triệu Tôn were still alive and both Lữ and you—along with your wife—were dead, we would inherit the whole of VietCal."

He flashed a sinister smile. Vấn shuddered. It was true: the Triad was unaware of the partnership's asset-division clause. Had Triệu Tôn been shrewd enough to realize that, the Triad would have eliminated Lữ, Uyên, and Vấn himself long ago.

Vấn replied, unwilling to let the bargaining drag on:

"Without us, there’s no way you could touch VietCal’s assets. But to show my good faith: once Lữ is dead and our safety is guaranteed, you’ll receive an additional third of Lữ’s share in the company. Do we have a deal?"

Henry Cheng nodded:

"Agreed! That sounds fair enough. Now, tell us more about Lữ—your enemy."

Vấn let out a long breath. He hadn't expected things to go so smoothly. Perhaps luck was finally on his side. The tables had turned; from the hunted, he had become the hunter. Lữ wouldn't escape this time. And then there was Uyên. A plan began to take shape in Vấn’s mind. On paper, Uyên was still his wife. All the company’s assets would pass to her once the Triad finished off Lữ. And all of Uyên’s assets would become his, should any misfortune befall her.

Vấn began to recount everything he knew about Lữ to Henry Cheng, the Triad leader in Southern California. Yet, deep down, he knew his love for Uyên was dead. It vanished completely, as if he had never loved Uyên, never shared with her the happiest years of his life—as though those days had been erased forever. All that remained was a sheet of paper, pristine white, unblemished by a speck of dust or any sorrowful memory.

 
Chapter 45
 
Sơn walked into Lữ’s office. For the first time, he felt nervous about speaking to Lữ. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. They were the closest of friends—sworn brothers who had been through life and death together—so why did he feel so awkward? Yet, what he had to tell Lữ was truly difficult to broach. He was about to inform Lữ that he was going to marry his friend’s wife! Sơn told himself: Miriam was no longer Lữ’s wife, even if the divorce paperwork wasn't finalized yet. There was nothing wrong with it!

But a nagging worry persisted. He didn't want Lữ to think he had harbored feelings for Miriam before the couple decided to separate, or that he had played a role—or bore some responsibility—in their divorce. Sơn shook his head. Life often arranged such complicated situations. Why couldn't he have fallen for a woman other than Miriam?
 
He was a man deeply attached to his homeland, believing he would only ever marry a Vietnamese woman—someone with whom he could one day return to Vietnam and live a normal life as a Vietnamese person.
The love that blossomed between him and Miriam had come as a surprise, completely outside the plans he had made for his life. But how could Sơn resist loving Miriam—a woman so beautiful, passionate, and captivating? Even if she was his friend’s ex-wife!

Sơn sat down and lit a cigarette. He hadn't smoked in a long time, especially since Miriam disliked the smell of smoke clinging to him. But he felt he needed one now, to steel himself for the difficult conversation ahead. He began with a question:

"Lữ! How are things going with the divorce paperwork between you and Miriam?"

Lữ looked at Sơn in surprise; it was rare for Sơn to bring up Miriam in conversation. After meeting Sơn and Miriam at the La Biche Dorée restaurant in Malibu, Sơn seemed to be avoiding him. Lữ, being tactful, didn't press the issue. However, Sơn eventually asked about the divorce, implying there must be a reason for the situation. Lữ replied:

"It hasn't really gone anywhere. Miriam's lawyer, Leibovitz, is being incredibly difficult. He's demanding exactly half the partnership—down to the last penny—so nothing has been resolved yet."

Sơn nodded:

"I know. Miriam asked me to speak to you about this. She’s no longer demanding a share of your assets; everyone keeps what is theirs. She doesn't want the lawyers dragging out the divorce proceedings any longer."

Lữ leaned forward, clearly astonished:

"What did you say, Sơn? Miriam is dropping the claim to the assets entirely?"

Sơn looked at his friend and smiled:

"Why are you jumping up like that? Miriam said she’s dropping it all—no conditions attached."

Lữ was overjoyed:

"Why did she change her mind? Did you advise her to?"

Sơn shook his head:

"No, I had nothing to do with her decision. But there is something I want to tell you: Miriam and I are getting married once your divorce papers are finalized."

Sơn said it all in one breath. He hadn't expected it to be so easy to tell Lữ. After all, it wasn't a big deal; he figured Lữ understood the situation between him and Miriam perfectly well. The only surprise was the decision to marry, but he was sure Lữ wouldn't mind much. Lữ was likely still elated at having escaped the burden of Miriam's asset claim.
 
Sơn congratulated himself on his wisdom in announcing that Miriam was dropping the lawsuit before breaking the news about the wedding. He hadn't known how Lữ would react, but sharing the good news first helped prepare him for the rest.

Lữ lunged forward, grabbing Sơn's hand and shaking it vigorously:

"I'm happy for you!" I’m so happy for you!

Lữ seemed like a man who’d had a few drinks. He rambled excitedly:

"You have no idea how happy I am! You and Miriam are perfect for each other—it couldn't be better!"

It was as if a crushing weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Sơn was genuinely surprised. Lữ was relieved that the divorce proceedings were no longer a messy hassle, but he was truly happy about Sơn and Miriam getting married, too. Sơn breathed a sigh of relief. He felt a weight lift off him as well, amazed at how smoothly everything had turned out:

"Miriam wants to have the wedding next month. After that, we’re going to Europe for three weeks. I want to get the paperwork for the shopping center sale sorted out before we leave."

Lữ nodded:

"Go ahead and go; don't worry about work. I can have someone else handle it."

Sơn spoke up immediately:

"I also wanted to discuss my role in the partnership. Miriam wants me to oversee some restaurants and manage investments for her, so you’ll probably need to find someone else to take over my job!"

Lữ frowned slightly. He hadn't anticipated this. Yet, his joy over the divorce and the upcoming marriage remained; the momentary annoyance vanished instantly. Lữ clicked his tongue:

"If you quit, who on earth am I supposed to find? No one compares to you. Plus, we have so many ongoing investments. But let's leave that for later. Let's celebrate you and Miriam first. Tonight, we’re going out to get properly drunk!"

As if suddenly remembering something, Lữ clapped his friend on the shoulder:

"I meant to tell you this earlier but completely forgot! It’s another reason to celebrate. I discussed it with Uyên the other day. The venture capital investment in Comnet was largely due to your efforts. Uyên and I both agreed that you should receive a 20% share of the partnership's stake in Comnet." Of course, you’ll have four hundred thousand shares when Comnet goes public on Wall Street. The moment Comnet hits the stock market, you’ll be a millionaire!
 
Sơn was taken aback. He hadn't expected Lữ and Uyên to be so generous with him. He didn't care much about getting rich, but acquiring some assets was certainly a good thing. He could put them to use in many other ways!
Sơn thanked his friend:

"It was just my job! You and Uyên are giving me far too big a share."

Lữ joked:

"Turning down a fortune? Just think of it as a dowry for when you marry into the family!"

Sơn laughed along, but his expression suddenly turned serious:

"There’s one more thing I need to tell you. It might not amount to anything, but you should definitely be aware of it."

Lữ kept joking:

"Let's save any unpleasant news for later. We've discussed enough for today!"

Sơn shook his head:

"No! I think you need to know this right away. You remember how Triệu Tôn owned a food market in Chinatown? After we discovered he was a Triad member, I paid one of the workers there to keep an ear out for news. I’ve occasionally checked in with him about Triad movements since Triệu Tôn’s death. Yesterday, he called to say someone had demanded a meeting with the Triad boss in Los Angeles regarding Triệu Tôn's death. He didn't know many details, but said the Triad members seemed quite stirred up about it. He asked the guys who escorted the visitor to see Henry Cheng—the local Triad boss—and learned the visitor was Vietnamese. I pressed him for more details about the Vietnamese man, but he didn't know anything else. I think you need to be on your guard about this."

Lữ nodded thoughtfully. He guessed the person was none other than Vấn. That meant Vấn had found a lead regarding the hit on Triệu Tôn and had gone to the Triad to find a way to strike back at him. Fortunately, Son had managed to plant a mole—someone on the partnership's payroll—to keep tabs on the Triads. He needed to discuss this with Montello immediately to figure out how to handle the situation.

Lữ did not reveal his thoughts to Sơn; he didn't want to drag Sơn any deeper into the matter of settling the score with Vấn. Lữ patted Sơn on the shoulder:

"Don't worry! I've got someone handling it. Just relax. For now, let's celebrate your news. Tonight, we’re heading to Redondo Beach to let loose and have a blast! We can figure out the rest later."

 
° ° °
A blue van belonging to the Pacific Telexis phone company pulled up to the gate of Palos Verde—one of Southern California’s most exclusive and expensive condominium complexes, perched on a hillside overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The guard at the gatehouse tilted his chin toward the driver and asked:

"What’s this about?"

The driver replied:

"Mr. Trần Lữ’s phone is out of order. Could you tell me which unit is his?"

The guard answered with a concerned tone:

"Mr. Lữ’s phone is broken? He just got home. It’s Unit 62. I should let him know you guys are here to fix it."

He shook his head:

"How could I call him? You said his phone is broken, right? Just go ahead and ring the doorbell."

He opened the gate to let the van in. The driver steered the vehicle around to the rear, where the numbered parking spaces for each unit were located. Once out of the guard's sight, the van stopped beside a red Jaguar in space number 62. The rear door opened, and a small-framed Chinese man hopped out. He spoke to the driver:

"You keep watch out front, and Chow, you watch the back. If anyone gets close, let me know immediately!"

He climbed back inside the van to ready his tools. Vấn watched as Wang Li attached an electronic detonator to a block of C4 plastic explosive, and he shuddered. He had heard of this incredibly powerful explosive; a piece no bigger than a stick of Doublemint gum was enough to blow up a large house, let alone this compact Jaguar sports car. Lữ would certainly be blown to bits—there wouldn't be a single piece left to put in a coffin!
 
Vấn smiled a cruel smile. Henry Cheng had dispatched his most capable explosives expert from Hong Kong to help the young man eliminate Lữ, in accordance with the agreement between him and the Triad. Cheng briefed Vấn on the plan to assassinate Lữ:

"I want Lữ’s killing to make a loud statement so his bodyguards realize the Triad's power here. I’m sending you along with Wang Li so you can see your enemy blown to bits with your own eyes. Remember: just follow and watch; absolutely no questions or opinions. Wang Li kills as easily as eating a meal if anyone crosses him. Be careful."

Vấn followed the Triad van, which was disguised as a Pacific Telesis telephone repair vehicle. Throughout the journey, he heeded Henry Cheng’s instructions and didn't say a word to Wang Li—a small, menacing Chinese man who had just arrived from Hong Kong. Wang Li paid Vấn no mind either, focusing entirely on the wires, detonators, and sticks of high-powered C4 plastic explosive. He only addressed Vấn once the van had pulled up right next to the Jaguar; he stared hard at him, growling as if Vấn were the very person he had been ordered to blow up:

"Take a good look. Is this Lữ’s Jaguar?"

Vấn nodded in confirmation. He had seen Lữ driving this latest-model sports Jaguar before. It must have cost eighty thousand dollars, Vấn thought. And now, it was about to explode along with its owner!

Wang Li slid under the car and busied himself for a moment. Vấn guessed he was trying to cut the wires to the Jaguar's alarm system. A moment later, the man emerged and inserted a tiny, slender blade into the door lock. Vấn saw him make a few quick movements; the lock popped open, and Wang Li quietly opened the door and stepped inside.
 
He crawled into the space beneath the steering column and wired the ignition switch to the explosive device he had attached to the vehicle's floor. Van understood exactly what Wang Li intended to do. When Lữ started the car, the electrical signal from the ignition would trigger the C4 charge to detonate. There was no way Lữ could survive such a devastating plastic explosive!

It took Wang Li just over ten minutes to rig the bomb in Lữ’s car. Once the job was done, he got into the van and sat next to Vấn. He said:

"Call Lu and find a pretext to get him behind the wheel. We’ll see the results soon enough."

Vấn nodded. He used his cell phone to dial Lữ’s number—a number Uyên had recorded in her personal address book, which Vấn had previously searched through. Waiting for Lữ to answer, Vấn covered his mouth with a cloth and disguised his voice, speaking in English:

"This is the Fountain Valley Hospital emergency room. Is this Mr. Lữ?"

Lữ replied from the other end:

"Speaking. What’s happened?"

"Mrs. Uyên has been in a car accident and was just brought in. She asked us to notify you."

"Is it serious?"

"Nothing major, but she says she wants to see you right away."

"I’m on my way."

Vấn hung up the phone. Lữ, harboring no suspicion, would surely head out to his car to drive to the hospital. Vấn would soon see the results of Wang Li’s bomb-making skills. Vấn urged the driver:

"Let's get out of here. Lữ will be coming out any minute now."

The van pulled out of the parking lot and stopped at the security gate. The guard looked surprised:

"Finished the repairs already? That was quick!"

He opened the gate. The driver nodded without a word and sped out of the condo complex. He turned into a side street, out of sight of the guardhouse, and killed the engine to wait. Lữ would soon emerge and get into the car, and it would all end with a massive explosion. Vấn sneered. He pictured Lữ’s body blown to pieces; a heady mix of suspense, hatred, and the thrill of impending vengeance surged within him. The intensity of the excitement left him feeling breathless.

Vấn took a deep breath. His chest tightened in spasms. The moment of waiting dragged on like an eternity. Vấn closed his eyes and visualized Lữ’s every movement. He was changing his clothes. He was walking to the door, locking it, and heading to the parking lot. He was opening the car door. And finally, he would insert the key into the ignition and start the engine. The scene played out in Vấn’s mind like a slow-motion film. The final end would come in an instant. Right now!

 
Chapter 46
 
Lữ hurriedly changed his clothes. News of Uyên’s car accident left him restless and uneasy. How serious was her injury? Why hadn't she called him directly instead of having emergency room staff do it? Fortunately, Fountain Valley Hospital was nearby; it was only a few minutes' drive.
 
He considered calling the hospital to check on her condition but decided against it. If it were serious enough to require surgery, the staff member would surely have told him. Perhaps she had only suffered minor scrapes and bruises requiring nothing more than emergency room treatment—but if that were the case, why did she want him to come right away?

Lữ walked out to the parking lot. The Jaguar he had recently purchased was painted a brilliant red, per Uyên’s preference. She didn't want him driving a black Mercedes, which she considered too staid and ostentatious. Nor did she want him driving a Lexus, dismissing it as a car for the *nouveau riche*. Lữ smiled. And what was he, if not *nouveau riche*? Any Vietnamese refugee who became prosperous here was, by definition, newly wealthy.
 
Uyên insisted he drive the Jaguar when they went out together so he would feel youthful. She clearly sensed that neither of them was as young and fresh as they had been a few years back. Lữ shook his head. Women were strange creatures. They were always worrying about aging and losing their bloom. A car was merely a means of transportation; it couldn't fabricate or conceal one's true worth—let alone one's age!

Lữ rummaged through his pockets for the Jaguar’s keys. He hadn't driven the car in weeks because Kim disliked the red color, and lately, he had been spending more time with Kim than with Uyên. It was as if Kim had a premonition that the red Jaguar was meant solely for Uyên, and she refused to set foot in it. Lữ shook his head again. Uyên was lying injured in the emergency room; why was his mind wandering to such trivial matters?

Lữ opened the door and got into the car. He turned the key in the ignition, preparing to start the engine...

° ° °

Vấn checked his watch impatiently. Nearly twenty minutes had passed, yet there was no sign of movement. Lữ should have rushed out to drive the moment he heard about Uyên’s accident. Vấn was burning with anxiety; a plan to eliminate Lữ—meticulously crafted as it was—simply could not fail. Watching a Mercedes pull out of the security gate made Vấn even more restless.
 
Rush hour was approaching; the influx of traffic in and out of the complex would only complicate matters. Several times, he had considered telling Wang Li to move further away to avoid attracting the attention of residents in this upscale condo complex. They might notice a repair van idling too long on the street corner and report it to the police once Lữ’s car exploded. But one look at the Triad’s sinister face made Vấn change his mind; he had no desire to get into a messy argument with a cold-blooded killer.

The explosion made Vấn jump, even though he had been expecting it. The C4 plastic explosive was incredibly powerful. He heard the shattering of glass from the nearby condo units. Flames shot up, rising higher than the treetops—a sight clearly visible to Vấn from his position outside the perimeter wall. A pungent, acrid smell of smoke hit his nostrils. He took a deep, satisfied breath. His enemy had been blown to smithereens. Everything had unfolded exactly as he and Henry Cheng had planned. He had avenged his grievance, and the entire VietCal Partnership fortune would soon be his—once Uyên, too, was wiped off the face of the earth.

Vấn curled his lips into a grim, sneering smile. He felt not a shred of emotion at the thought of Uyên. She had betrayed him, conspiring with her lover to kill him on the 405 freeway. Her lover had paid a fitting price—a debt of suffering and despair that only the death of the perpetrators could settle.

Van glanced to the side. Wang Li’s face remained impassive, as if the successful bombing were a foregone conclusion—as if he had never known failure. Wang Li calmly ordered the driver:

"Let's go! The job is done."

° ° °

Lữ heard the explosion three minutes after driving his Mercedes out of the condo complex's security gate. He had been about to start up his Jaguar to leave but changed his mind; the last time he drove it—about three weeks ago—the brakes had felt unreliable. It needed a brake fluid check and a tune-up. Lữ clicked his tongue in annoyance. He had needed to leave immediately, only to remember the car's mechanical issues. With Uyên in the emergency room, it hardly mattered whether he drove the Jaguar or the Mercedes. Lữ stepped out of the car, walked over to the guard booth, and handed the Jaguar’s keys to the guard:

"John! I need the brake fluid checked and a tune-up. Take the Jaguar to the service station at the end of the street and have them look at it for me."

Lữ often tipped the guards at the gate to handle odd jobs for him. His generosity ensured attentive service; whatever he asked was done immediately. John grinned, already anticipating the tens of dollars Lữ would slip into his hand:

"Don't worry, Mr. Lữ! I'll have Eddie check it out for you right away. A car this new shouldn't be having brake trouble!"

Lữ nodded without a word. He walked over to his black Mercedes and drove out the gate. He caught a glimpse of a blue telephone company van parked on the street corner but paid it no mind. After driving for just a few minutes, Lữ heard an explosion coming from the direction of his condo complex. He immediately turned his vehicle around, narrowly missing a telephone company van that was speeding toward him against the flow of traffic. Lữ slammed on the brakes and swerved sharply.

 
Passing through the security gate, Lữ saw smoke rising from the spot where his Jaguar had been parked; debris from the car's chassis was scattered everywhere. The assistant guard ran up to him, on the verge of tears:

"John is dead! He was killed when he drove your car—it exploded!"

Lữ said nothing; his lips were pressed into a tight line. John had died in his place. Had the Jaguar’s brakes not failed, Lữ would have been the one blown to bits the moment he started the engine. He knew instantly who was behind the plot to kill him: Vấn.
 
Vấn had collaborated with the Chinese Triads to plant a bomb in the car—retaliation for Lữ hiring Montello to take a shot at him on the San Diego Freeway. He could not underestimate this man. Vấn had survived a Mafia hit attempt, deduced the connection between Triệu Tôn and the Triads, and knew how to leverage that criminal organization to strike back at Lữ. Vấn was far more cunning and resourceful than Lữ had imagined.

Lữ dialed Uyên’s number on his cell phone. He realized immediately that the story about her being in the hospital had been a ruse to lure him into driving the booby-trapped car. Her voice on the other end sounded normal:

"What is it, Lữ?"

Lữ replied:

"My car was blown up by a bomb. I’m fine, but the guard who drove it for me was killed."

Uyên sounded panicked:

"What are you saying? Who planted a bomb in your car? Are you really unhurt?"

Lữ reassured her:

"I was lucky enough to switch to the Mercedes instead of the Jaguar, so I’m safe. It’s just a tragedy that John died in my place. Stay inside and don't open the door for anyone. I’m coming over right now."

He hung up, thinking about how Uyên was facing the same threats he was. He had to find a way to deal with the situation and protect her immediately.

Lữ got into his car and drove out of the condo complex. He began to hear the wail of police sirens. He needed to get Uyên out of the house and to a secure, discreet location as a precaution; he couldn't afford to linger. The police would soon be questioning everyone and investigating the car bombing. He would deal with the official statement later, alongside Kim.

As Lữ drove toward Uyên’s house, his mind raced over the car bombing orchestrated by Vấn and the Triad. Given the power wielded by this Chinese mafia group, Vấn had transformed into a dangerous enemy and a formidable adversary. His immediate priority was for him and Uyên to go underground, denying the Triad another opportunity like the recent bombing.
 
It wouldn't take long for them to realize he hadn't been inside the Jaguar—that the assassination attempt had failed. He needed to move Uyên somewhere they couldn't be tracked down. Furthermore, he needed Montello’s help now more than ever to counter this threat.

Lữ pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He hadn't smoked in a long time, as both Kim and Uyên disapproved, but in these perilous, trying moments, he felt he needed the smoke to help him think and formulate a plan. Vấn had undoubtedly briefed the Triad on Triệu Tôn’s death and the partnership agreement regarding the inheritance of a partner's share upon their demise.
 
The plot to kill him was about more than just revenge; it was a scheme to seize the assets of the VietCal Partnership. Lữ saw Vấn’s calculations clearly: once he and Uyên were eliminated, Vấn would inherit everything, as he remained Uyên’s legal husband on paper.

Vấn had surely promised the Triad a cut of the profits, motivating them to assist in taking him out. Lữ regretted having been so overconfident and having underestimated Vấn so badly. The cuckolded husband—vile and despicable though he was—possessed far more ingenuity and cunning than Lữ had imagined. The tide had turned; the man was gaining the upper hand, aided by the Triad in his plot to bring Lữ down.
 
Lữ realized he needed to be even more cautious and shrewd in this life-or-death struggle. It was a hard-learned lesson—the price he paid for underestimating his foe and for the arrogance that had grown alongside his unbroken string of successes in recent years.

Lữ gave a grim, sardonic laugh. He would be more careful, certainly, but his enemies would not escape. They would taste the vengeance he was preparing to unleash—a retribution that was fully deserved, and a punishment magnified tenfold, a hundredfold, beyond the harm they had inflicted upon him.

 
Chapter 47
 
Lữ pulled up in front of Uyên’s house. She rushed out, threw her arms around him, and asked anxiously:

"Are you okay? What happened with the car explosion, Lữ?"

Lữ guided her into the house and urged:

"I’m fine! Go change and pack a bag—we need to leave right away. You shouldn't stay here; it’s too dangerous."

Uyên pulled away slightly:

"Why am I in danger? Why do I have to leave my home?"

Lữ replied:

"I’m certain that Vấn and the Triads were behind the car bomb meant to kill me. They could come here to harm you at any moment."
 
Uyên asked fearfully:

"Do you really think Vấn would do something like that?"

Lữ nodded:

"I’m sure he’s lost his mind. It’s one thing for him to want me dead, but I’m worried that because of the Triads' involvement, you’re at risk too—especially regarding the partnership's assets."

Uyên stammered:

"You mean Vấn is using the Triads to kill you—and then me—so he can seize all the assets from our partnership?"

Lữ kissed her gently on the lips:

"That’s just my guess. But as long as I’m with you, no one can hurt you. Still, hurry up and get ready! We need to find somewhere else to stay."

Uyên stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips firmly against his:

"As long as I’m close to you, I’m not afraid of anything! I’ll go pack right now."

Lữ sat on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and waited for her. He felt his hunch was right. Vấn was a despicable man; he wouldn't forgive Uyên for her betrayal, especially with such a huge fortune at stake. People have killed—even their own wives and children—for just a few tens of thousands of dollars, let alone the nearly ten-million-dollar fortune Lữ and Uyên currently held.
 
Lữ put himself in Vấn’s shoes and imagined what the other man might do. He wanted to anticipate Vấn’s next moves and counter the schemes Vấn was devising. Lữ had underestimated his adversary in the past; now, he realized he needed to be more cautious and treat the situation as a contest between equals in terms of cunning and strategy.

Uyên appeared at the foot of the stairs, carrying a small suitcase. The look of fear was gone from her face. The prospect of staying with Lữ—walking by his side and relying on him for protection—made her eyes sparkle. She seemed as excited and intrigued as a young girl running away from home with a lover. She smiled:

"I'm all set! Where are we going to hide?"

Lữ took the suitcase from her:

"We’ll stay at the Hilton for a few days, then move to another hotel. I don't want them to know where we're permanently based."
 
Lữ walked her out to the car. He needed to check into the hotel and contact Montello immediately—there was no time to lose. The dynamic had shifted; Lữ and Uyên had gone from hunters to prey on the run. He had to turn the tables and hunt Vấn down. To deal with the Triad, he would need to leverage the influence of Al Montello and the Los Angeles Mafia family.

° ° °

Lữ called Sơn from the hotel. He told him about the bomb planted in the Jaguar and how he had narrowly escaped death by switching cars just in time. Lữ instructed him:

"Go to my office and handle all the partnership matters for me. Uyên and I will only stay at this hotel for a night or two before moving elsewhere until things cool down. I don't want them tracking us. The Triad is powerful here and might have wiretaps in place, so I won't be calling you often. If anything comes up, call me on my cell phone."
 
Sơn asked Lữ:

"How do you want me to explain your absence? I can handle the tasks that don't require your personal touch, but there are some groups that will only deal with you. What should I tell them?"

Lữ thought for a moment:

"Just tell them I’ve gone to Europe on business and won't be back for another two or three weeks. As for the ones who refuse to deal with you—forget them; tell them to come back later!"

Sơn warned:

"You have to be careful. The Triads are ruthless. They have henchmen everywhere, even in the hotels. You’ve got your gun with you, right? Call me immediately if you need anything. I’m sick of the gun life, but I can't seem to shake it. That Beretta you bought me back then is still right here, in perfect condition!"

Lữ smiled and hung up. Sơn was like a saint, yet he was still ready to charge into the line of fire just as they had done together back in the Trường Sơn mountains. He had bought Sơn that Beretta two years ago as a mere trinket, never imagining they would ever need to touch a weapon again. But circumstances forced him to revert to his old self—a man who treated life and death like a joke and for whom gunfire was a daily staple.

Uyên stepped out of the bathroom, a towel draped loosely around her. Her eyes sparkled in her radiant face, and her body seemed to radiate a scorching heat. She let the towel drop and moved toward him. The danger of the chase thrilled her even more than the prospect of getting rich had two years ago.
 
Uyên was grateful to Vấn and the Triads; without them, Lữ would never be with her day and night like this, allowing her insatiable desires to be fulfilled so completely and exquisitely—just as they were in this very moment.

 
Chapter 48
 
Lữ strode up the steps of Al Montello’s villa—only the second time he had ever visited the place. The previous occasion had involved the Triads and Triệu Tôn; this time, Triệu Tôn had been replaced by Vấn, yet the situation had become infinitely more complicated. Back then, Triệu Tôn had harbored no suspicions, and the hit had been child's play; the Triads hadn't even realized they were walking into a trap.

This time, however, they knew everything, and Lữ had become the hunted.

Lữ felt a twinge of concern regarding Montello’s attitude. The man might find it too troublesome to tangle with the Triads and simply leave Lữ to fend for himself. On the other hand, Lữ understood the Italian temperament and the competitive pride of the Cosa Nostra. Montello had already lost face over the botched attempt on Vấn’s life on the San Diego Freeway; he would be even more furious to see the Triads threatening one of his clients.

Lữ followed a butler clad in a stark white tuxedo into the house. He had insisted on this meeting—despite knowing Montello rarely received guests at his villa—because only a face-to-face encounter would reveal the man's true intentions.

Montello stepped out of the living room to greet him. He walked with a long, solid stride; the early morning sunlight bathed his square, rugged face, highlighting the long scar that ran from his chin down to his neck. Montello embraced him warmly.

"It’s been a long time, Lữ! What’s so important that it couldn't be discussed over the phone?"

Lữ nodded.

"It’s pretty important, Al. You know how I am—if it were a routine matter, I’d just have your men handle it."

Montello nodded in agreement.

"True. Let’s have a drink first, then you can tell me all about it."

He snapped his fingers sharply. The butler in the white tuxedo respectfully brought out a tray of drinks. Montello tilted his head back and downed his drink in one gulp, then urged:

"Drink up, Lữ! Is this about the botched hit on that guy Vấn?"

Lữ took a small sip to humor Montello; he wasn't in the habit of drinking in the morning like a true alcoholic.

"That's the one. Vấn is causing me a lot of trouble lately. He’s made contact with the Triads and teamed up with them. I suspect he got wind that Triệu Tôn’s death wasn't a car accident and traced the connection back to the Triads. They planted a bomb in my car yesterday!"

Montello’s eyes widened:

"A car bomb? They’ve got some nerve! I’ve been a bit lax with them lately, thinking they wouldn't dare do much outside Chinatown. But bombing your car means they’ve stepped way beyond their usual territory!"

Lữ let out a breath. At least Montello was angry about the Triads' brazen behavior. He was still wondering which group held more power in the region. He knew the Mafia family was currently struggling due to the FBI's crackdown on organized crime, whereas the Triads were new enough to have largely escaped the agency's notice.

He decided to goad him a little:

"I hear the Triads have expanded into Orange County and even San Diego. Their turf isn't limited to just the Los Angeles area anymore!"

Montello slammed his fist onto the table in anger. The drink tray flew up, sending two glasses crashing to the floor. He growled:

"They dare cross me? Trying to kill you means they’re messing directly with us. I’m going to wipe them out—every last one of them—and send them running back to Hong Kong!"

Lữ added fuel to the fire:

"I hear the Triads are claiming to be the new kings of California. People must have forgotten all about you guys!"

Montello’s eyes turned red. Bloodshot veins bulged on his face, looking as if they might burst at any moment. Lữ mused that the rumors about the local Mafia’s decline and their humiliation at the hands of the Triads were no exaggeration; the fact that Montello was so easily provoked by the subject was proof enough.
 
Montello seemed to be choking on his own rage, breathing heavily like a cornered bull in the arena:

"Just you wait and see. I have a plan to wipe them out."

Lữ smiled. That was exactly what he had been hoping for. He needed Montello to mobilize his full force against the Triads, thereby relieving the pressure they were exerting on him. As for the matter regarding Vấn, he would handle that himself. A clash between the Italian Mafia and the Chinese Triads was inevitable regardless of his involvement; the city couldn't accommodate two criminal organizations vying for supremacy—a showdown was simply a matter of time.
 
Lữ asked:

"Do you know where their headquarters are?"

Montello had regained his composure. He curled his lips into a grim, menacing smile:

"Of course! I know everything! Rest assured—within a week, there won't be a single Triad member left on this turf!"

Lữ stood up and shook Montello’s hand before taking his leave. He felt a great weight lifted off his shoulders. Despite the heat they were facing from the FBI, the Mafia remained the most powerful criminal organization in the area. While the Triads could operate among the Asian minority communities without issue, the moment they infringed upon *Cosa Nostra* interests, top bosses from across the United States would immediately coordinate forces to shut them down.
 
Montello might be struggling locally, but he would soon have reinforcements flying in from other families to aid in the war against the Triads. For now, the priority for Lữ and Uyên was to lay low and avoid detection by the Triads; only after Montello had eliminated the gang could Lữ safely step back into the open. 
 
° ° °

Kim paced restlessly, unable to sit still, after receiving a call from Lữ. His voice had been calm, yet Kim—with a woman’s keen intuition—sensed the gravity of the trouble he was facing. He had briefed her briefly:

"A bomb was planted in my car, but I’m unharmed. I have to go off the grid for a while so they don't track me down. Please handle the police reports for me. If you need to reach me, call Sơn."

Lữ didn't mention his new whereabouts, and Kim didn't ask. She knew his nature well enough to realize that asking would yield no answers. A pang of hurt washed over her. Lữ trusted only Sơn, keeping secrets even from her. Could his love for her really be so superficial? Were those moments of passionate, ecstatic intimacy—which left her trembling and spellbound for days—nothing more than fleeting breezes?

Kim wondered if Lữ viewed her merely as a lawyer needed to resolve his legal troubles. Was love, to him, nothing more than a conquest—nothing more, nothing less? She surmised that the car bombing was linked to Uyên and Vấn, even though he hadn't explained the details. That woman was the source of his misfortune; Kim was certain of this, despite having only glimpsed Uyên for a split second as they passed each other—Kim arriving at Lữ’s office just as Uyên was leaving.

Kim never brought up the matter of Lữ and Uyên. She didn't pry or question whether their relationship had ended before she entered his life. She respected Lữ’s freedom. She felt no need to possess him completely or harbor jealousy toward Uyên, even though she suspected the affair between Lữ and Uyên was ongoing.

Everyone has a private corner of their life that belongs only to themselves. She and Lữ had no formal commitment; why, then, did she need to concern herself with Uyên? Kim knew she was free to see other men and that Lữ would respect her autonomy—that was the unspoken understanding between them. Yet, how could she possibly go out with anyone else when she already had Lữ? The disadvantage always fell to the woman, Kim concluded bitterly. True equality between the sexes simply didn't exist, and perhaps she just had to accept it.

Kim couldn't stop thinking about the woman who had brought such calamity upon Lữ. She had often heard heated discussions in her law firm’s conference room about the kind of woman who wreaks havoc on men—leaving them divorced, cuckolded, or jilted by mistresses. Her male colleagues would eagerly chime in, even with her present, as if she were one of the guys and they didn't need to watch their tongues.

Every male colleague had a story about a woman who had ruined his life, sowing disaster and tormenting him in every conceivable way. Successful men—men who had excelled in every aspect of life—would find themselves entangled with a "calamity woman" whom fate had seemingly destined for them, embarking on a disastrous downward spiral. Lost fortunes, ruined reputations, heart disease, strokes, or cancer—these were often the final rewards awaiting such unfortunate men.

Kim rarely paid attention to what she considered mere gossip from her male colleagues, but the news that a car bomb had been planted for Lữ immediately made her think of Uyên—and of that archetype of the destructive woman she had heard so much about.

Disaster after disaster had struck Lữ, and the cause always seemed to revolve around Uyên. She was like a magnet for misfortune and hostility, drawing down calamities upon Lữ like a raging torrent. Yet, Uyên herself was blameless. Kim understood this, and she felt a sense of pity for the role fate had assigned to Uyên in her romance with Lữ.

Kim sensed something ominous. She seemed to foresee their destiny and visualize the terrible events about to unfold. She shuddered; her intuition filled her with dread. Into what abyss was Uyên leading Lữ? Kim felt as though she were standing on high, watching the two of them fleeing together through a thick fog, unaware of the precipice awaiting them at the end of the path. What could she do? What could she possibly do for the man she loved—a man ensnared in the web of that woman who embodied both calamity and the abyss?

Kim let out a long breath. She had made her decision, and a fierce resolve ignited within her like a spark. She would do everything in her power—and even the impossible—to save her lover; she would banish the shadow of that calamitous woman from Lữ’s life with the radiance of her own light, and reclaim him for herself.
 

 
Chapter 49
 
Kim picked up the phone and called Sơn. Her voice was calm and firm—possessing that professional authority characteristic of a lawyer—leaving the listener with no room to refuse:

"Sơn! I need to know everything about the car bombing involving Lữ. I have to give a statement to the police on his behalf."

Sơn hesitated. He wasn't sure how much Lữ wanted Kim to know about the Triad's failed assassination attempt. But Kim’s tone made it impossible for him to hold back; after all, she was Lữ’s lawyer.

"Lữ told me not to tell the police about the mastermind; he said he’d handle it himself. But I’ll tell you privately, Kim. It was the Chinese Triad and a guy named Vấn who pulled this off."

Even though she had partially suspected it, Kim was still shocked:

"You’re saying Vấn made contact with the Triad to plant the bomb and kill Lữ? Does he know about Lữ and Uyên?"

Kim immediately reproached herself. She had blurted out a question she shouldn't have—especially to Sơn. Why was she so preoccupied with the woman who had brought about this disaster?

Sơn cleared his throat a few times. He also found it awkward to discuss the situation between Lữ and Uyên. He steered the conversation elsewhere:

"Lữ and I discussed the motive behind the bombing. He suspects Vấn intended to kill both of them to seize all the assets of the partnership."

Kim agreed:

"That’s very likely! Vấn and Uyên haven't finalized their divorce yet; if he managed to kill both of them, he could easily take over the partnership's assets. Without evidence to the contrary, the court would be forced to award ownership to him. I’m sure he promised the Triad a huge cut to get them involved."

Sơn remained silent. He didn't want Kim to know that Lữ had eliminated Triệu Tôn, the Triad member. Even this was merely a guess on Sơn’s part; Lữ hadn’t breathed a word about it to him. He asked Kim:

"Is there any way you could help Lữ with this?"

Kim thought for a moment:

"I know an FBI agent from the Los Angeles office—we’ve worked together before—and I could speak to him about getting them to investigate. Are you in daily contact with Lữ?"

Sơn felt flustered. He understood that Kim wanted to know Lữ’s whereabouts. But Lữ had strictly instructed him not to let a second person know—not even Kim. Sơn deflected the question:

"Yes, Lữ calls every day. Let me ask Lữ first if he wants the FBI involved in this."

Kim urged him:

"Tell Lữ this: the agent is a close contact of mine and could be a huge help, especially since a criminal organization like the Triad is behind it. I know Lữ has his own ways of handling things, but it would be best to let the FBI investigate and provide protection."

Sơn remained silent. He knew Lữ would never want the FBI or the police investigating the matter, but he couldn't say that outright to Kim. Her tone worried him. The situation was already complicated enough; if she insisted on helping by bringing in the FBI, things could get infinitely more complex. He pleaded with her:

"Please don't say anything to the FBI yet! Let me ask Lữ first."

Kim agreed:

"All right. But tell Lữ to call me. I want to discuss this further with him."

Kim hung up. Her anxiety had deepened significantly. Had Lữ become so deeply entangled in shady dealings that he wanted to keep the authorities out of it? There was a side to Lữ that she had never known. It was unacceptable for her lover to be entangled in the illicit dealings of criminal organizations. Was it all because of that calamitous woman?

Kim resolved to get to the bottom of Lữ’s situation and help him. She wanted to be his guardian angel, steering him away from the abyss of darkness and evil, and helping him through this crisis—a time when his life was in danger and he was bewitched in the arms of that woman who brought nothing but trouble.
 
She muttered Uyên’s name and cursed under her breath. A torrent of emotions surged forth—anger, hatred, and jealousy. She realized that a dark impulse was taking hold of her, sweeping in like a tsunami and washing away all reason and judgment.

° ° °

Vấn paced irritably back and forth in Henry Cheng’s living room. He had been waiting for over half an hour, yet Cheng had not appeared. *That Chinaman is starting to play games,* Vấn thought. He hadn't spoken to Cheng since the car bomb attempt on Lữ’s life, and he was anxious to know what method the Triad would use next to eliminate him. Vấn had wanted to circle the van back after the explosion to see his enemy blown to bits with his own eyes, but the bastard Triad operative from Hong Kong had refused to listen. He had coldly ordered the driver to continue to Chinatown, ignoring Vấn’s furious curses.

It wasn't until he was watching TV that evening that Vấn learned Lữ had survived—the doorman had started the car instead, acting as an unwitting decoy. Vấn sprang up instantly and called Cheng, but try as he might, he couldn't reach him. The secretary replied coolly that he had gone to Singapore on personal business. Three days passed, and finally, Van had an appointment to meet Henry Cheng at a safe house behind an old Triad shop on Hill Street.

Van lit a cigarette, intending to smoke it. He paused when a voice—dry and hard as steel—rang out behind him:

"No smoking in this house!"


Vấn turned back. Cheng looked at him with an expressionless gaze. Pointing to a chair in the corner, he spoke in a commanding tone:

"Sit in that chair! What business do you have with me?"

Vấn’s blood began to boil. Did this bastard Chinese thug take him for a subordinate? He spoke curtly:

"What kind of operation are you running? You couldn't even pull off the bombing to kill Lữ! What do you plan to do now?"

Cheng didn't answer immediately. He stepped closer to the chair where Vấn was sitting, stood tall, and looked down at him with contempt:

"You don't need to know what we're doing! The Triad has never failed at a job. I’ll let you know when Lữ is dead!"

Vấn stood up. He couldn't tolerate the condescending attitude of this Chinese thug. Looking him straight in the eye, Vấn enunciated each word sharply:

"Cheng! Remember this: if you don't kill Lữ, there’s no way you’ll get Triệu Tôn’s share of the money. And I’m the one who inherits that company’s assets, not you. I don't need to know how you plan to kill him, but the longer you wait, the more time he has to counter your moves. Don't underestimate him!"

Henry Cheng pondered for a moment. Tens of millions of US dollars was no small sum. If he succeeded in this, the leadership of the Triad across the entire US would surely be his. And when the old man named Bành died, who else but him would claim the Triad’s supreme position in Hong Kong?
 
Cheng spoke, his tone more subdued than before:

"Fine! I’ll tell you. Lữ is hiding in hotels here in Los Angeles. He changes locations every night. But he can't fool us. The Triad has people in every hotel here. Sooner or later, we’ll catch up with him."

Vấn nodded. He knew Henry Cheng wasn't bluffing. After all, what hotel didn't employ Chinese staff as waiters or cooks? It wouldn't be hard for the Triad to track Lữ down; the only issue was that by the time they located him, he would likely have already moved to another hotel. Vấn extended his hand to Cheng:

"I trust you’ll succeed. But let me reiterate: he’s a dangerous man. If you don't eliminate him soon, he might turn around and finish you off instead."

Cheng laughed loudly. He shook Vấn’s hand perfunctorily, still chuckling:

"Do you have any idea how many Triad members are here? Does this guy Lữ have three heads and six arms, or is he immortal and bulletproof? Is that why he thinks he can take on the Triad? Just go home and sit tight; we’ll handle this. I’ll let you know when it’s done."

Vấn left. He was annoyed at being belittled by Cheng, yet he felt somewhat reassured. No matter how much Lữ skulked from hotel to hotel, the Triad would eventually nab him. And once Lữ was dead, Vấn would become the sole owner of VietCal Partnership—or at least retain half of it after settling up with these Chinese Triad members.
 
Van deliberately avoided thinking about Uyên. He knew full well that she had run off with Lữ and was currently in hiding with him; the Triad had already told him as much. And he understood perfectly that they wouldn't just eliminate Lữ—Uyên would have to die along with her lover. Only then could everything fall into Vấn’s hands.

Vấn searched his own heart. Was he being too ruthless? Did he still harbor any love for Uyên? He felt nothing but icy coldness within. His wife—the only woman in his life—had betrayed him. Worse yet, she had conspired with her lover to kill him on the 405. He had no reason left to pity that wretched woman.

It was only natural that Uyên should die along with Lữ—just another mundane, tedious event in this world. It was as commonplace as the hundreds, the thousands of betrayals and murders that occurred every day in Los Angeles—the City of Angels... and of an earthly hell!

Vấn shook his head bitterly. Why had he come to live here? Why hadn't he settled in some remote, windswept town—in Iowa or Nebraska, perhaps—to lead a truly normal life? A life where love didn't turn into betrayal, and where money wasn't inextricably linked to gunfire and death. But things had gone too far. The machinery was already in motion, and destiny lay in wait. What else could he do?

 
Chapter 50
 
Richard Tsu wheeled the room service cart into Room 645. He knocked lightly and waited. Tsu hoped the person answering the door would be a beautiful woman—ideally, one who had just stepped out of the shower. It was one of his daily pleasures to deliver trays to guests who were too lazy to go out and preferred having their meals brought up.
 
More than once, he had encountered beautiful, amorous women answering the door in states of near-nudity. Of course, he only dared to steal furtive glances; he never dared to entertain any further fantasies.
Jobs were hard to come by these days; he knew that any untoward behavior would lead to guest complaints and his immediate dismissal.
 
Landing a position at the Four Seasons was no easy feat. Yet, while the fear of losing his job was real, how could he help but fantasize—seeing such beautiful women amidst the seductive atmosphere of this luxury hotel—about a day when... Tsu didn't dare let the thought go any further; he hurriedly swallowed the saliva rising in his throat and waited.

The door opened. Just as Tsu had hoped, a beautiful woman let him in. She wasn't wrapped in a skimpy towel as he had imagined, but the sheer nightgown she wore was more than enough to satisfy him. She was stunning—and Asian, too. Tsu wheeled the cart inside and arranged the food on the table, stealing only quick glances at the woman. Suddenly, he froze.

A man stepped out of the bathroom; without a word, he pulled out some loose bills, handed them to Tsu, and waved him out of the room. A jolt of electricity seemed to shoot through Tsu’s brain. He suddenly recognized that face—the very face he had seen in the photograph the Triad had sent to the Four Seasons three days earlier. There was also the promise of a ten-thousand-dollar reward for anyone who spotted him and immediately notified the Triad contact at the Asian Market.

Tsu kept his head down as he hurriedly pushed the cart toward the door. His heart was pounding. There was no doubt about it: the Triad’s hunted couple were right there in the hotel. And this particular pair was staying for only one night. The Triad had informed him that their target changed hotels every night and that he had to contact Paul Huang at the Asian Market immediately. Ten thousand dollars! Tsu sped the cart down the hallway to the corner where a telephone was kept in the hotel’s small utility closet.

Tsu pulled a small notebook from his back pocket and dialed the number for the Asian Market. The phone was picked up after the first ring; the Triad surely kept someone on duty at that number day and night. Tsu spoke:

"Let me speak to Paul Huang."

A curt, dry voice answered:

"Huang speaking."

Tsu spoke rapidly, his breath coming in short gasps:

"This is Richard Tsu at the Four Seasons. The man you’re looking for—Lữ—is here."

Paul Huang’s demeanor changed instantly. He spoke urgently:

"Which room? What’s the number?"

Tsu replied:

"Room 645. But what about my reward?"

He jerked back a few steps. A roar came through the phone, startling him as if the speaker were standing right in front of him:

"Hmph! You’ll get your money! Don't mess around! Now, you have to keep an eye on Lữ. If he does anything—goes out or whatever—call me back immediately!"

"Rest assured! I’ll stand guard right here. He isn't going anywhere."

Tsu hung up the phone. Ten thousand dollars would soon be in his pocket. The Triad had never broken its word. Every Chinese person in Los Angeles knew this well, and Tsu had been schooled on the Triad’s role within the local Chinese community—ever since he first set foot in Southern California after arriving on a tanker that had smuggled migrants halfway around the world from Fujian to Peru, then Mexico, and finally California.

° ° °

Paul Huang hurriedly called Henry Cheng. The Triad had missed Lữ at the Bonneville Hotel the day before. The Chinese bellboy there had only spotted Lữ that morning, shortly before checkout time. The Triad arrived immediately, but it was too late; Lữ had already left the hotel and checked into a different place.
 
Huang did not want to face Henry Cheng’s wrath again. Had Huang not intervened, the bellboy at the Bonneville would likely have taken a bullet to the head. Yet it wasn't the man's fault; he had only started work that morning and had notified the Triad the moment he saw Lữ.

Huang stood up and left the Asian market. Henry Cheng’s orders were clear. Wang Li, Huang, and another gunman were to head straight to the Four Seasons Hotel, while Henry Cheng and three other gunmen would follow later as a precaution against any unforeseen trouble. Huang sneered. He alone was enough to take Lữ out, let alone with Wang Li and another man backing him up. Why was Cheng being so cautious? It was just Lữ and a woman—hardly a situation requiring the Triad to mobilize its full force and risk diminishing the organization's prestige.
 

 
Chapter 51
 
Montello sat in deep thought. He was reviewing, for the final time, the plan to settle the score with the Triads in Los Angeles. Al Montello was no fool; he fully understood that Lữ had come to goad him into using his own muscle to eliminate the Triads—thereby removing a threat to Lữ. In truth, even without Lữ’s involvement, Montello would have had to take action against the Triads anyway. For the past two years, they had become increasingly brazen, showing utter disregard for the power of the Cosa Nostra.

However, Montello had lacked the time to deal with them; he had been under intense pressure from the FBI after a subordinate—acting as an informant—had secretly recorded evidence of his illicit activities. The Los Angeles District Attorney was determined to use the RICO Act to prosecute him. That accursed law had put countless Mafia figures—from the East Coast to the West—behind bars for decades due to its rigorous application against criminal organizations.

At the very least, Montello had managed to have the traitor eliminated before the FBI could place him in the witness protection program and spirit him away. Without a witness, even a hundred district attorneys couldn't make charges stick against Montello.

Yet, the two years spent fending off the FBI had left him with neither the time nor the energy to check the Triads' expansion. Now that the heat had died down, he needed to reorganize Mafia operations in Southern California. Naturally, the first order of business was to teach the Triads a lesson. Montello contacted the bosses of Mafia families in New York, Atlantic City, Chicago, Kansas City, and San Francisco. Since every one of them had issues with the Triads—who were expanding their influence within Asian communities across the states—they all pledged their support to Montello.

With all his preparations complete, Montello finalized the plan to wipe out the Triads in Southern California. He knew the location of the Triad’s hideout on Hill Street in Chinatown, the layout of Henry Cheng’s house, and the number of gunmen and their schedules. Every detail had been meticulously studied; the location was carefully chosen, and Montello had mapped out the tasks and timing for each of his men with the precision of a military campaign.

There was only one thing Montello wasn't entirely satisfied with. His men still hadn't located Van—the man he had contracted to eliminate, only to fail on the 405 freeway. Montello wanted to wrap everything up this time. He wanted to settle the matter once and for all so he wouldn't have to deal with these Vietnamese factions killing each other—a conflict that, like it or not, threatened to ignite a war between the Mafia and the Triad.

More than ten gunmen gathered in Montello’s living room. He scanned the group and nodded in satisfaction. Ricky and Johnny were both there; the two of them alone could take down a dozen of those filthy Triad Chinese. And that was not to mention the full force he had mobilized from Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley. Montello pointed at Ricky and said:

"You and four guys from the Valley take the back entrance. Johnny and three guys from Orange County take the front. Shoot any Chinese guy you see. You all know what Henry Cheng looks like, right? Whoever takes him out gets a special bonus."

Ricky, Johnny, and the men from Los Angeles, the Valley, and Orange County all nodded. They knew Montello; he rarely offered bonuses like that. It meant he took this Chinese guy seriously. They would have to be extremely careful. The Triad had grown powerful in just a few years—they certainly weren't incompetent. It promised to be an intense fight.
 
° ° °

Two pitch-black Lincolns turned onto Hill Street in Chinatown. Johnny stepped out, glanced around briefly, and signaled the four henchmen in the lead Lincoln to exit their vehicle. The group walked into a tiny dead-end alley; near the far end stood a shuttered, deserted-looking shop—the front entrance to the Triad headquarters. The second Lincoln drove straight on, then turned onto the cross-street that ran behind Cherry Drive.

Ricky led the second team to infiltrate the rear of Henry Cheng’s compound. He had memorized the layout and every approach to the Triad estate. Beyond the towering fence lay a vast lawn. Electronic sensors linked to cameras and alarm systems lined the fence and were mounted on the tall trees dotting the yard. Breaking in would not be easy.

Ricky smiled. They didn't need to sneak in. No matter how advanced the alarm system was, it was useless; the moment Johnny smashed through the shop’s front entrance, one of Ricky’s men—waiting on a nearby utility pole for a walkie-talkie signal—would cut the power lines. Without electricity, the entire house would plunge into darkness; cameras, monitors, and alarms would all go dead, leaving the Triads with no time to react.

Montello had planned for everything. Only seven or eight Triad members were stationed inside the house. Johnny, Ricky, and Montello’s ten gunmen had more than enough firepower to take them all out. Meanwhile, another team would simultaneously eliminate the remaining Triads at the Asian market. Every move was timed to the second. Montello remained in the lead Lincoln with the driver, waiting for news of victory.

° ° °

Johnny kicked open the door to the dingy little shop that served as a front for Henry Cheng’s mansion. Two old Chinese men, who had been sitting and reading newspapers, started to rise to question the intruder but were too slow. A burst of fire from Johnny’s Uzi slammed them back against the rear wall; they had just enough time to widen their eyes in shock before slumping to the floor.
 
Johnny and his men stormed into the inner hallway. He kicked open the door to Cheng’s living room and unleashed another burst of gunfire. At that exact moment, the house plunged into darkness; Ricardo, stationed at a utility pole outside, had cut the power lines.

As the living room went pitch black, Johnny and his team donned infrared goggles. They could see everything clearly, while the people inside remained blind to the Mafia gunmen. Johnny smiled when he heard gunfire erupting from the back of the house, near the large lawn. Ricky had moved in from the rear; caught in a pincer movement, Henry Cheng and his men had no way out.

° ° °

Cheng hurriedly pushed the woman’s heated body aside and sprang up, cursing under his breath. He should have left immediately after Paul Huang and Wang Li to oversee the hit on Lữ, but his new mistress was insatiable. She hadn't been satisfied with the entire night and had demanded he please her one more time. He hadn't even had a chance to dress and head to the Four Seasons—after dispatching three of the Triad’s top gunmen to execute Lữ and Uyên—when the sound of gunfire rang out inside his own home.

Cheng barely had time to pull on his trousers. Bare-chested, he grabbed the gun from beside the bed and rushed out of the bedroom. Glancing quickly toward the back lawn, he saw a figure darting across. The house lights suddenly died, leaving only a faint glow filtering in from the yard outside. Cheng heard the sharp crack of gunfire, followed by a henchman’s curse and the choking gurgle of another man dying.
 
He swore under his breath. His three best gunmen had already left for the Four Seasons Hotel, leaving him with nothing but dead weight. Cheng aimed at a tall, dark silhouette emerging behind the glass door. He fired, then rolled rapidly across the floor. A hail of bullets chased him, unleashed by another figure who had kicked the door open and stormed in. Cheng spun and fired the instant his roll came to a halt; the gunman shrieked, clutching his chest as he collapsed.

Taking down two of them meant he had at least avenged the two henchmen who had just fallen. Cheng took cover behind a massive, dark bronze antique vase—taller than a man—that he had personally imported from Beijing. Three figures appeared at the main entrance, each wearing bulky night-vision goggles that covered most of their heads.
 
Cheng realized instantly that Montello was pulling out all the stops to wipe out the Triad this time. He was furious with himself for having dispatched his three most capable gunmen to kill Lữ just half an hour before this attack. Was it a coincidence, or had he walked into a trap set by the very Mafia thugs he had always dismissed as brainless fools?

Rage surged through Cheng. He had never needed Wang Li more than at this moment; with his unerring aim, Wang Li would have taken out this riffraff in the blink of an eye. But now, in this vast house, he was alone—save for his mistress, who was cowering in the bedroom. The sudden silence of the gunfire meant that all seven of his guards stationed here had been killed, and Montello’s hit squad was now hunting down the last target: him.

 
Chapter 52
 
Lữ took the Beretta that Sơn had handed him and began to clean it. He felt as though he had been transported back to the old days in the deep forests of the Trường Sơn range. Whenever a mission loomed, he would meticulously clean his weapon, caressing it with the tenderness one might show a lover. He had to treat the gun with care and affection—it was his lifeline, after all—and he certainly didn't want to discover, in a moment of crisis, that it had jammed due to poor maintenance.

Lữ sat waiting, the gun resting in his lap. He hadn't wanted Uyên to witness this, but she had refused to leave. His only option was to tell her to go into the bathroom and lock the door tight should any shooting break out.

Lữ had grown suspicious of the Chinese waiter the moment he noticed the man stealing strange glances at him and hurriedly pushing his food cart away as if fleeing a ghost. Lữ opened his door to watch the waiter; when he saw the man rush into a small room at the end of the hall to make a call, Lữ followed. Pressing his ear against the door, Lữ caught snatches of the conversation—his own name and Á Trung’s mentioned as the waiter spoke to the Triad headquarters. That was enough. Lữ knew instantly that the waiter was tipping off the Triad; within half an hour at most, they would send gunmen to take him out.

Lữ hurried back to his room before the waiter finished the call. He immediately phoned Montello. The plan had been set two days prior, and Montello was simply waiting for Lữ’s call to set things in motion. Montello had warned Lữ that Cheng’s organization was large and staffed by many skilled gunmen. He worried that storming the Triad headquarters while their forces were fully assembled would result in heavy losses for the Mafia. If they could split the Triad’s forces, however, eliminating them would be far easier.
 
Lữ was weary of constantly changing his lodgings every night and being perpetually on the run, fleeing the Triad’s pursuit. He proposed a plan: let the Triad discover his location, and while Cheng sent men to eliminate him, Montello would strike the Triad’s headquarters. Montello assured him that a few of his own men would be stationed at the hotel to ambush Cheng’s henchmen the moment they appeared. Three Mafia gunmen would lie in wait in the hallway; any Triad member who burst into the room would be ambushed and taken out instantly.

After hanging up with Montello, Lữ waited. True to the Mafia boss's promise, just over ten minutes later, the room phone rang. A man named Larry—after reciting the pre-arranged code—informed Lữ that he and two other gunmen were already at the Four Seasons, ready and waiting for Henry Cheng’s men to come to their deaths.

"Just stay put in the room," the man said. "Don't be afraid! Larry here has got it all covered."
 
Lữ smiled. Little did the man know how accustomed Lữ was to gunfire and bloodshed. He wondered about Larry’s marksmanship—and if he had to defend himself, would his own gun hand still be as steady as it had been over a decade ago? Lữ mused silently, caressing the gun resting in his lap with more tenderness than he had ever shown in his past romances with Uyên, Kim, or Miriam—memories that felt like a distant, vanished past, even though they were not long ago.

° ° °

Ricky unleashed a burst of gunfire into the spacious living room. There was no return fire. His team, having breached the back entrance, had already taken down four Triad members. Johnny, who had stormed in through the front door to meet him in the living room, reported that he had eliminated three others. A total of seven filthy Chinese thugs had been sent to meet their ancestors, but his own side had suffered two casualties as well.
 
The remaining expert marksman inside the house had shot the two men storming the living room right in the crown of the head—a display of consummate skill and deadly precision. This meant Henry Cheng was still hiding somewhere within the cavernous living room, and Montello’s gunmen had to tread carefully to flush out the Triad leader.

° ° °

Crouched behind a massive black bronze vase, Cheng peered out. A group approaching from the front of the living room had linked up with the squad that had stormed in from the rear. Eight gunmen fanned out, covering the vast expanse of the room. They advanced step by step, and Henry Cheng knew he was out of options; in moments, they would reach the far end of the room where he was concealed. He took aim at the tallest man in the group—who appeared to be the leader—and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet struck Ricky square in the forehead, sending him toppling backward. But simultaneously, the seven remaining gunmen unleashed a hail of automatic fire at the black bronze vase. The vase was knocked backward, exposing Henry Cheng, who was now completely defenseless. He raised his gun, intending to take out one last man, but it was too late. Hundreds of rounds from seven Uzi submachine guns tore into his body; in an instant, he was reduced to a shapeless, mangled heap of flesh slumped against the wall, lying beside the precious antique vase—now as twisted and ruined as its owner.

° ° °

Wang Li, Paul Huang, and Frank Teng entered the Four Seasons Hotel. Wang Li had wanted to go alone, but Henry Cheng had insisted the other two accompany him. "This guy Lữ is dangerous," Cheng had said, determined that Lữ would not escape the Triad’s grasp this time. Upon entering the hotel lobby, Wang Li glanced around and jerked his head, signaling Huang and Teng:

"You two take the elevator. I’ll go up the stairs just in case. Wait until I get there before you storm Lữ’s room."


Wang Li had seen plenty of action in hotels across Hong Kong and the U.S. He knew that if an ambush occurred, the threat would likely emerge from the stairwell. Although Lữ had no idea the Triad was coming, Wang Li refused to leave anything to chance; he always secured the stairwell before carrying out a hit in a hotel.

Paul Huang and Frank Teng stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the sixth floor. Compact automatic pistols were tucked discreetly beneath their black leather jackets. Wang Li shook his head as he watched them go. How did the Triad recruit guys like this? Going on a hit dressed in black—it was practically advertising their Triad affiliation and the fact that they were about to kill someone.
 
He bounded up the stairs, taking three or four steps at a time; the stairwell was deserted. In moments, he reached the sixth floor. Wang Li cast a final glance around. The stairs above and below were completely empty. Satisfied, he pushed open the door and stepped out. Just then, he heard a sharp burst of gunfire coming from the direction of the elevator.

° ° °

Larry saw three Chinese men enter the Four Seasons and instantly recognized them as Triad gunmen—especially the two wearing all-black jackets and dark sunglasses. *A bunch of morons! Going to commit murder but acting like they’re putting on a show for everyone!* Larry thought to himself. One of them broke away from the group and vanished down the far end of the hallway. Larry couldn't figure out where he was going—maybe just off to the restroom to take a leak. Those Chinese guys had all sorts of weird habits and rituals.
 
Larry cursed under his breath, damning every filthy Chinese person on the face of the earth. He spoke softly into his walkie-talkie upon seeing the two men in black press the elevator button to go up:

"Two Triad guys are taking the elevator up. You know what to do."

Dick’s voice came back crisp and clear:

"OK! We’re waiting right by the elevator doors. We’ll handle it."

Larry smiled. When the elevator doors opened, those two Chinese guys would be met with a hail of bullets from Dick and Valentino, who were lying in wait. Taking out the Triads would be a piece of cake—there was no need for Montello to be so fussy with his instructions! As for the third guy, Larry would simply step into the restroom and put a bullet in his head; that would settle everything neatly. He walked down the corridor toward the restroom near the emergency exit stairs, only to hear the sharp crack of gunfire ringing out from the floor above.

° ° °

Wang Li glanced toward the elevator and instantly realized they had been ambushed. Two tall Americans were spraying automatic fire into the elevator car. Huang and Teng had just stopped at the sixth floor; the moment the doors cracked open, Montello’s henchmen—who had been lying in wait—unleashed burst after burst of automatic fire. The two Chinese men slumped to the floor, unable to react in time.

Wang Li drew his gun and sneered. One of the Americans spun around, but it was too late; a bullet from Wang Li’s weapon slammed into his left chest. Before the man could even process what was happening, he took another bullet to his right temple. Two hulking bodies slowly collapsed to the ground.
 
Wang Li walked over to the elevator and spat on the floor. He felt no pity for his fallen associates. Gunmen as stupid as the four men lying dead here were bound to die sooner or later; the world simply didn't have room for fools who liked to play with guns the way they did.
 
Wang Li slowly approached Room 645. He fired at the lock and kicked the door open. As it swung wide, he stepped inside, unleashing a long burst of gunfire, but found no one. He was momentarily taken aback but reacted instantly, dropping into a crouch and rolling into the room; a bullet grazed just inches above his head.

Wang Li cursed under his breath. This Lữ wasn't an amateur; he couldn't afford to underestimate him. Wang Li rose and fired toward the far end of the room, where the incoming fire had originated. He heard a faint cry that was instantly stifled. Lữ had been hit but had managed to suppress his scream. Wang Li felt a grudging admiration; it took immense grit to stifle a cry like that while wounded. Yet, it meant Lữ was still alive. Somewhere in the corner of this vast, luxurious Four Seasons penthouse, Lữ lay wounded, waiting for Wang Li to come and finish him off.

° ° °

Lu heard the roar of gunfire near the elevator and tightened his grip on his weapon. The Triads had arrived, and Montello’s men had sprung their ambush. He rose and retreated toward the corner of the room to wait. If things went smoothly, Montello’s henchmen would wipe out the Triads, and he would have nothing to worry about. But what if the Triads prevailed? Lữ told Uyên to lock herself in the bathroom and stay put, then crouched behind the writing desk at the far end of the room.

The gunfire suddenly ceased. Lữ heard footsteps stop outside the door, followed by a shot fired into the lock. He cursed silently; the Triads had taken out Montello’s men. But he had no time to dwell on it—bursts of automatic fire from Wang Li’s weapon were already raking the room. Lữ raised himself slightly and saw the small, wiry figure of a Chinese man standing in the doorway, spraying bullets at the bed where he had been lying.

Lữ fired three shots in rapid succession, but the man nimbly ducked and rolled aside. Suddenly, Lữ felt sharp stabs of pain in his chest and right arm; the gun was knocked from his grasp. He barely managed to stifle the cry rising in his throat before collapsing to the floor. Everything unfolded at breakneck speed, like a film in fast-forward. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain that seemed to tear at his chest. When he opened them, he saw the Chinese man slowly approaching, the gun barrel aimed at his head, ready to fire.

 
Chapter 53
 
Lữ woke up. He looked around and realized he was in a hospital. A long tube ran down his throat, connecting him to a ventilator beside the bed. Lữ knew he was just coming out of anesthesia following surgery. A violent wave of pain crashed over him the moment his mind cleared. Yet, as his memory returned, a different kind of agony—far deeper than physical pain—engulfed him, plunging him into bottomless despair. Vivid images flashed through his mind: the Chinese Triad gunman about to put a bullet in his head; Uyên’s piercing scream; and the sight of Uyên bursting from the bathroom to shield him with her own body just as the gunman fired.

Lữ writhed in excruciating pain. He could clearly see Uyên collapsing against him, her blood drenching his body. The gunman, momentarily stunned by the turn of events, was preparing to fire again at the two bodies before him. But Lữ would not let him carry out his mission. He drew the blade strapped to his lower leg and hurled it with all his might. The knife plunged deep into Wang Li’s heart, and blood spurted out in a powerful jet.

The gunman staggered, clutching his chest, his vacant eyes fixed on Lữ in disbelief at what had just happened. He slumped forward and collapsed. Lữ watched him fall but paid no further heed to the dying killer. His entire world was Uyên, lying motionless in his arms. Lữ cried out her name. His anguished shout seemed to rouse her one last time; Uyên opened her eyes and her lips stirred. Lữ leaned close to hear what she had to say. And her final words were the ones she had spoken to him hundreds, thousands of times before: "Lữ! I love you." A faint smile touched her lips, and her eyes closed—forever.

Lữ cried out once more. He shook Uyên vigorously, though he knew it was all in vain. Despair surged in and completely overwhelmed him. Blood continued to pour profusely from the wounds in his chest and right shoulder. His vision blurred; before losing consciousness, the last things he perceived were the room spinning around him and the distant voice of a tall American who had just entered:

"It's Larry! Lữ, where are you?"

° ° °

Kim stood watching Lữ through the glass partition of the post-operative recovery room. She gazed anxiously at her lover as he battled for his life. The surgeon had assured her that the operation was a success and free of complications. A bullet had struck Lữ’s lung but missed his heart and major arteries; another had shattered the bone in his shoulder, though a cast would allow it to heal in time.
 
What baffled the doctor, however, was that after the anesthesia wore off, Lữ seemed to be suffering from severe shock; he remained unable to breathe without the ventilator. During the brief moments he regained consciousness, his pulse and blood pressure fluctuated wildly—as if he were in a state of extreme agitation—before he slipped back into a coma. The surgeon spoke to Kim:

"By now, he should have fully regained consciousness and be breathing on his own. We’ll continue administering medication to stabilize him, but I am quite concerned. We won't know for sure if he’ll pull through until tomorrow—provided everything goes smoothly."

Kim nodded silently. She understood that Lữ was devastated by Uyên’s death, and that his difficult recovery was compounded by the crushing guilt and anguish of blaming himself for the tragedy. But Kim knew Lữ would survive the danger following this surgery—because of her love, and because she stood right there beside him. She would remain by his side forever, sharing in his pain.

° ° °

Lữ remained in the intensive care unit for nearly a week before the surgeon declared him out of critical condition and ready to be moved to a regular room to recover. Kim and Son visited him daily; Lữ never spoke to Kim about the events that had transpired, asking Son only about the sequence of events following his loss of consciousness.

Larry, one of Montello’s henchmen, had arrived just as Lữ threw the knife that killed Wang Li—the Chinese Triad member—but Larry had vanished immediately, unwilling to clash with the police who were swarming the scene. Sơn informed him that Montello’s group had eliminated the entire Triad faction in the Los Angeles area, and the FBI was investigating the purge.

Lữ did not ask about Uyên, yet Sơn told him everything had been taken care of. Only Sơn, Kim, and a cousin of Uyên’s who had traveled from Texas attended her funeral. No, Sơn told Lữ; Vấn had not shown up, and his whereabouts remained unknown. That was all Lữ needed to know; he then retreated into the silence that had enveloped him ever since he woke up from surgery.

Kim understood Lữ’s state of mind. She said little beyond making casual, gentle inquiries about his well-being. Yet she sat there, holding his hand, sharing the pain and torment that besieged him. Kim offered no unsolicited advice; she knew Lữ’s inner strength and understood that he needed time to heal from the grief of Uyên’s death.
Still, she hoped her presence and her love would hasten his recovery. She also needed to assist him in dealing with the police and FBI agents who visited the hospital daily to investigate and take his statement
 
Kim recounted everything to Anthony Tucker, an FBI agent she knew well and who had assisted her with numerous past criminal cases. Tucker was assigned to handle Asian organized crime groups in Southern California. The incident where the Triad was wiped out by Montello’s Mafia faction in Chinatown had naturally stirred up a commotion within the Los Angeles Police Department and the FBI’s Southern California field office.
 
Kim briefed Tucker on the Triad’s attempt to assassinate Lữ and the car bombing at the Palos Verdes condominium complex; however, she remained unaware of the details regarding the destruction of the Triad’s stronghold on Hill Street or the shootout at the Four Seasons Hotel.

Kim instructed Lữ to reveal as little as possible to the LAPD and the FBI regarding his involvement with Montello. He was to portray himself merely as someone targeted by the Triad due to business disputes in Orange County. The two Montello henchmen killed by Wang Li at the hotel were simply security personnel he had hired for protection.
 
His act of throwing a knife to kill Wang Li was framed as self-defense—an action taken after he had been wounded and after Wang Li had murdered Uyên, his business partner. Naturally, the LAPD and Tucker understood that Lữ was withholding information, yet they could do little to compel further disclosure, especially with his sharp-witted female lawyer sitting right beside him.

Although he did not say it explicitly, Tucker let Kim understand that the government had no complaints about two criminal organizations eliminating each other; the fewer of them there were, the better. Moreover, the Mafia was a criminal organization the FBI knew well and found easier to handle. The Triad, conversely, was a Hong Kong-based syndicate that operated aggressively and was far more ruthless in its killings than the Mafia.
 
The FBI had previously struggled to investigate the Triad due to unfamiliarity with its organizational structure; now that the Mafia had done the dirty work for them, they could simply go through the motions of an investigation and close the case once they had taken statements from Lữ and other witnesses. Lữ disclosed only the bare minimum about his ties to the Triads to Kim, so she could advise him on what to tell the authorities; he made no mention of his connection to Montello. Both Kim and Tucker understood perfectly well that the shooting at Lữ’s hotel and the Mafia’s simultaneous hit on the Triads at Hill Street were no coincidence.

The day after the police interrogations and Anthony Tucker’s questioning had officially concluded, Lữ received a visitor one evening, just before hospital visiting hours ended. Kim was still in the room, but Lữ gently hinted for her to leave the moment he spotted the visitor:

"I need to have a private word with this gentleman. Could you bring me some Vietnamese food tomorrow? I’m sick of American food."

Kim understood the hint; she kissed his forehead and left. She glanced at the stranger with concern, but Lữ reassured her:

"Go on home. He’s a friend of mine."

Montello walked her to the door, shook her hand in farewell, and turned back to Lữ with a smile:

"You’re a lucky man. There’s always a beautiful woman looking out for you."

Lữ didn't reply. He looked at Montello, silently questioning the purpose of the visit. Montello spoke:

"First, I want to offer my condolences and an apology regarding Mrs. Uyên. I was careless; I let a bunch of useless idiots fail to protect you both. It’s a mercy you were only wounded. Larry—that incompetent fool—is in the hospital now; I punished him by breaking his jaw. If you want me to deal with him more severely, just let me know."

Lữ shook his head. He knew full well that Montello had only sent small-time thugs to guard him at the hotel; his most lethal gunmen had been deployed to take out the Triad stronghold. Still, he couldn't really blame him. Neither he nor Montello had anticipated just how formidable the Chinese man, Wang Li, would turn out to be. Had he not prudently tucked an extra blade inside his trouser leg, both he and Larry—who had just poked his head into the room—would have been cut down by the man.
 
Fortunately for Montello, this particular individual hadn't been at the Triad hideout when Montello launched his all-out assault on Henry Cheng’s compound. Lữ spoke up:

"It’s all over now; there’s no point dwelling on it. Tell me, what’s the situation between your group and the Hong Kong Triads?"

Montello smiled:

"They’re sensible people—unlike Henry Cheng. I got in touch with the guy named Bành, their supreme leader in Kowloon. I heard he didn't care much for Henry Cheng anyway; he actually seemed pleased that someone took Cheng out for him. In short, I’m letting them send a different Triad faction to replace Cheng, but they’re restricted to operating only within Chinatown. We’ll each mind our own business and stay out of each other’s way. Bành also guaranteed he’d leave you alone. The Triads won’t get involved with you or even acknowledge your existence. That was one of the conditions I set, which is why I wanted to come see you personally today to let you know."

Lữ nodded his thanks to Montello. He knew full well that if the Hong Kong Triads were determined to kill him, Montello couldn't protect him forever. Besides, now that Montello had succeeded in eliminating Henry Cheng’s crew, he had no reason to remain entangled with Lữ. Reaching an amicable understanding with the Hong Kong Triads was the best course of action for Lữ if he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in hiding. Lữ asked:

"What about Vấn? Do you know where he is?"
 
Montello frowned:

"I still owe you for this. That guy Vấn vanished without a trace after the Triad was wiped out. No one knows where he’s hiding. I had some Chinese guys at the A-Trung market questioned—and you know full well our methods aren't exactly standard police procedure—but they didn't know a thing about him. The only two who knew Van's whereabouts were Henry Cheng and his lieutenant, Wang Li. But both of them are dead."

Lữ nodded. Vấn would certainly have disappeared the moment he saw his plot to use the Triad to kill Lữ had failed. He had likely fled the country and was no longer on American soil. Montello continued:

"I’ll provide the intelligence to help you track him down. No matter where he hides, he won't escape our notice. But that’s all I’m doing—providing information. You’ll have to handle the rest yourself. I came to say goodbye. After today, we go our separate ways. It’s probably better if we never even met. You know what I mean."

Lữ nodded. He understood that Montello was wary of the FBI investigation and the likelihood that they would monitor any connection between the two of them. Anthony Tucker was a smart man. Despite his fondness for Kim and Lữ, duty was duty; Tucker wouldn't hesitate to use Lự to build a case against Montello if necessary. Montello was fully aware of the police and FBI investigations into Lữ while he was in the hospital. Even the act of coming here was dangerous. Lữ mentioned this to him. Montello smiled:

"I know. But I’ve got tight security in place. The housekeeper who serviced your room this morning is one of my people; he swept the place for hidden bugs for me. The FBI doesn't suspect you anymore, so they’ve called off all surveillance." I came here in person to thank you. Without you, I couldn't have taken out the Triads so cleanly. And I want to apologize to you once more regarding Ms. Uyên.

Lữ remained silent. Agony washed over his soul. Had he not been so overconfident—insisting Uyên leave the hotel for safety—she would never have been struck by that cruel bullet from the Chinese Triad gunman. She had even thrown herself into his arms, ready to die with him, the moment she saw he couldn't escape the assassin's weapon. He had lacked the skill to protect her; he had betrayed the absolute trust she placed in him. Lữ dared not dwell on it any further. These thoughts had haunted him constantly—waking and sleeping—for days on end.

Montello squeezed his hand tightly and turned to leave the room. Lữ pressed the call button to summon a nurse; he needed a sedative to blot everything out. Yet, how could he stop thinking of Uyên? Even in his fitful sleep, he kept seeing her slump dead in his arms—a scene playing over and over in his mind, a relentless loop that never ceased.

 
Chapter 54
 
Lữ sat on the sidewalk of the Champs-Élysées, sipping wine and snacking on cold cuts from an Alsatian deli. Pedestrians bustled back and forth along the broad pavement of Paris’s most famous avenue. He had always enjoyed sitting here whenever he visited Europe. But this time, Lữ had no leisure to watch the passersby; he was anxiously awaiting a call to learn the meeting place where Vấn would connect with a Vietnamese drug-trafficking ring in Paris.

Six months had passed since Lữ left the hospital. Aside from a slight lingering stiffness in his right shoulder, all his wounds had fully healed. On the day of his discharge, he told Sơn, who had come to take him home:

"You just keep handling all the partnership business for me. I can't go back to work yet. There’s something else I have to do."
 
Sơn didn't ask what Lữ planned to do. He simply said:

"How long do you think it will take? There isn't really much partnership work left; the real estate is practically all sold, and I’ve got your investments sorted out. Still, it would be better to have you back overseeing things. Besides, Miriam keeps pushing me to look after the restaurants, too. Vincent can't handle it all on his own."

Lữ gazed out the window. He listened to the talk about business with indifference. What did amassing wealth matter when Uyên was gone? He was consumed by a single obsession now—one he was determined to see through to the end, no matter the cost. He told Sơn:

"I don't know how long. It could be a few weeks, a few months, or even a year or two. I just don't know. You keep looking after everything for me. If it gets to be too much, you can sell everything off and dissolve the partnership."

Sơn shook his head:

"There's no need for that!" I can look after your investments while keeping an eye on Miriam’s restaurants. But I don’t want you to be so obsessed. Let the past go. Stop letting it consume you!

Lữ looked Sơn in the eye:

"You know how I am. Uyên’s death was my fault. I have to handle this myself."

Sơn remained silent. He simply asked:

"What about Kim? Haven't you thought about her?"

Lữ replied:

"Please explain it to Kim for me. I can't bring myself to tell her directly. I can only go back to her once this matter is resolved."

Sơn said nothing. He carried Lữ’s suitcase out to the car. He disagreed with what his friend intended to do, but trying to stop him would be futile. Lữ couldn't return to a normal life without finding Vấn. Then again, had Lữ—or even Sơn himself—ever really had a normal life?

° ° °

Lữ’s hunt began in California. Although he suspected Vấn had fled the moment Henry Cheng was eliminated—and was likely no longer in Los Angeles—Lữ didn't want to overlook a single possibility. He spent money hiring private investigators to monitor the house Uyên and Vấn had shared, watching for anyone coming or going or for signs that the property had been put up for sale. A private investigator also kept a regular watch on Vấn’s former workplace at Bank of America, hoping to spot him returning to claim his final paycheck, collect documents for a new job, or provide a new address to claim his retirement funds.

Lữ also dispatched people to question Vấn’s acquaintances and relatives living in California about his whereabouts. But more than two months passed, and all of Lữ’s efforts proved fruitless. Vấn had vanished without a trace. No one knew Vấn’s new whereabouts, and he had not been in contact with anyone.

Lữ expanded his investigation across the United States. He sent people to inquire about newly hired Vietnamese employees at banks—places where he suspected Vấn might seek work to return to his old profession. No bank, however small, escaped the scrutiny of the investigators Lữ had hired. Yet, Vấn was shrewd enough to avoid the very places where Lữ’s agents might look.

There was a moment when Lữ thought he had finally caught his quarry. He recalled Uyên mentioning that Vấn had purchased IBM stock, so he set out to trace any stock certificates sold under Vấn’s name. He knew that if Vấn needed money, he would have to sell the shares. While the gold coins Vấn had taken—as Uyên had described—could be sold to illicit gold shops without a paper trail, selling IBM stock required full documentation.

The private detective agency Lữ hired informed him that Vấn had indeed sold the stock and listed an address in Mexico City; Vấn had left the country. Lữ flew to Mexico that very night, only to discover upon reaching the address that Vấn had departed two days earlier.

Lữ was undeterred. He continued to spend money hiring people everywhere to search for Vấn. Beyond areas with large Vietnamese populations in the U.S., he paid for tracing services in major European capitals with Vietnamese communities, as well as in Thailand and Saigon—just in case Vấn had flown back to hide in Vietnam.

Then, exactly six months after Uyên’s death, Lữ received word that Vấn was in Paris, implicated in a Vietnamese drug-trafficking ring operating there.

° ° °

Even though he had been expecting it, Lữ started when his cell phone rang in his jacket pocket. He answered the call. A voice spoke rapidly in French:

- Bois de Boulogne, corner of Vermeuil and Chartreux, 6 p.m.

Lữ nodded. He had already lost twenty thousand US dollars just to hear those words. For drug traffickers—and Vấn was merely a novice runner—let alone twenty thousand, even a few hundred would have been enough for them to sell him out. But money was of no concern to Lữ; he simply wanted it all over with quickly. He hadn't had a full night's sleep in the past six months.

Lữ waved down a taxi. As soon as he got in, he slipped a twenty-dollar bill into the Western driver's hand. Even the notoriously surly Parisian taxi drivers would practically bow low—almost to the point of kissing one's hand—when presented with a crisp greenback. Lữ gave the driver the destination. The man looked at him in surprise but said nothing. Only a madman would head to the Bois de Boulogne—specifically the corner of Rue de Vermeuil and Rue de Chartreux—at this hour. If one wanted women, Montmartre was much closer; why go all the way out there?

Sitting in the back seat, Lữ opened his small clutch bag to prepare. The gun Sơn had given him—the very weapon he had failed to use effectively to protect Uyên—would be put to use again today. It was destined for the mastermind behind Uyên's death. The local drug kingpin had agreed to dispatch Vấn to deliver a shipment to a big-spending client from Belgium. This client, who had readily put up twenty thousand dollars upfront, was coming to meet Vấn in the Bois de Boulogne. The kingpin had been instructed to simply forget whatever transpired there—to act as if the event had never happened—a condition he found incredibly easy to accept and readily agreed to.

Dusk had fallen, and the intersection of Rue de Vermeuil and Rue de Chartreux in the Bois de Boulogne was deserted. Lữ stepped out of the taxi and waited for it to disappear around the bend. He glanced around before heading toward a nearby small park. He turned up the collar of his overcoat and pulled his hat down low, shielding his eyes. Vấn failed to recognize him; he never suspected that Lữ had trailed him all the way here.

Lữ gazed toward the tree line at the edge of the woods. A figure emerged, clutching a small bundle. Lữ stood motionless in the shadows, waiting. The figure approached and uttered a code phrase; Lữ replied exactly as instructed. Reassured, the man stepped closer. Suddenly, Lữ whipped a flashlight from his pocket and shone the beam straight into the man's face.
 
It was indeed Vấn. Panicked, he shielded his eyes with one hand and reached for the gun in his pocket. But Lữ was faster; he leveled his weapon at Vấn’s chest and fired instantly. The man who had orchestrated Uyên’s murder at the Four Seasons Hotel six months earlier collapsed. He opened his eyes one last time to look at Lữ. Lữ nodded and spoke a single word:

"Uyên!"

Vấn closed his eyes and breathed his last. Lữ looked down at the enemy lying dead at his feet and felt a sudden, terrible emptiness. In Vấn’s final gaze, he had read a sense of release—as if the man had been waiting for Lữ to appear and grant him a final mercy. It was as though the burden of six months spent fleeing and the remorse over Uyên’s death had driven him to the very brink of the abyss, and Lữ’s bullet was the very thing the hunted man had prayed for.

He didn't know anymore. Everything seemed meaningless to Lữ—love, life, and death. He stared at the smoking gun in his hand, a fleeting thought crossing his mind: to turn the barrel on himself and pull the trigger. Why not? Uyên was dead. He had killed Vấn. What was left of life? Nothing but a darkness—like a rising mist—swallowing him whole.
 
Lữ gasped and shuddered; his hand seemed no longer his own, tensing as if to aim the gun at his own body. Lữ snapped awake with a loud cry, flung his gun to the ground, and turned to run. He had been down in the deepest abyss, just like Vấn; he had witnessed the blackness of the realm devoid of light—the darkness of an evil that reigned eternal.
 
Was there still a way out? Lữ no longer knew. He ran on like a madman through the thick, misty darkness of the Bois de Boulogne, praying for a glimmer of light in the distance to guide his path. Just one last time. Before he sank forever into the abyss of evil.
 

 
Chapter 55
 
The economic crisis in California heralded a widespread economic downturn. Unemployment soared to levels unseen since the 1930s, and home prices in the state plummeted disastrously. Homes—purchased by couples working four jobs combined in hopes of rising values—were now worth only half as much. When one spouse lost their job and could no longer meet mortgage payments, banks foreclosed on the properties. Californians began leaving the state in greater numbers than those arriving, driving home prices down even further.

Just as Lữ had predicted, commercial real estate values ​​followed residential prices into a rapid decline, losing half their worth in less than six months. The Orange County business community, having once laughed at Lữ when VietCal Partnership sold off all its holdings three months earlier, now nodded in acknowledgment of his foresight.

The shopping center on Bolsa Avenue, which Lữ had bought for $1.2 million a few years prior, fetched $4.6 million when he and Uyên sold it to a San Jose investment firm looking to expand into Orange County; the economic crisis subsequently slashed the property's value to around $1.8 million. The Garden Grove apartment complex, purchased by Lữ for $6.6 million, was sold for $8 million immediately after the renovation of fire-damaged units; three months later, the complex was worth just over $5 million.

A 300-room hotel on the Santa Monica Freeway, bought for $16 million, was sold to a Hong Kong investment group for $20 million; six months later, it was valued at only $14 million. Regarding the Anaheim shopping center, VietCal Partnership had sold early and made a $1.5 million profit; had they waited another four months, they would have lost nearly a million dollars. VietCal Partnership sold off all its real estate holdings at the market's peak, exiting the sector just three months before residential and commercial property prices plummeted. After deducting bank loans and taxes, the partnership netted a profit of over $8 million from these sales.

However, Lữ sold only the real estate; he retained his other investments. During Lữ's absence, Sơn needed to devote only a small amount of time to managing these ventures, allowing him to also diligently oversee the restaurants—assets Don Lavitz had left to Miriam.

The day Sơn decided to call Lữ back to oversee operations coincided with the day Comnet went public on Wall Street.

A year earlier, VietCal Partnership had tasked Sơn with researching venture capital investments in startups. He proposed—and Lữ and Uyên approved—investments in two internet software companies: NetSoft and Comnet. Sơn recommended investing half a million dollars in NetSoft for a 40% stake. Six months later, NetSoft went bankrupt because its software proved unusable, and the investors' capital vanished completely.

VietCal Partnership invested one million dollars in Comnet, acquiring two million shares—equivalent to 20% of the company's total equity. Sơn had been apprehensive about this investment due to the high risk; typically, only major venture capital firms with hundreds of millions in capital could weather such long-term exposure. Having already lost half a million on NetSoft, Sơn feared the million dollars invested in Comnet would also go up in smoke.
 
However, Comnet’s software proved functional and widely popular across the World Wide Web, propelling the company to extraordinary success. A Wall Street investment firm decided to launch Comnet shares to the public via an Initial Public Offering (IPO). On the first day, Comnet shares were priced at $12 each; within just a few hours on Wall Street, the value surged to $21, eventually settling at a closing price of $19.50.

Sơn tracked Comnet’s share price minute-by-minute on his computer screen all day, feeling feverish with excitement. He had never expected Comnet to make it to the Wall Street stock market—let alone see its price skyrocket on IPO day—so he had every reason to watch with such enthusiasm.

He had been awarded a 20% stake in the 2 million Comnet shares held by the partnership in recognition of his investment efforts. This meant Sơn held 400,000 shares. With the closing price at $19.50 on the first day, the value of his stake stood at $7.8 million. Lữ’s share was worth $31.2 million. Sơn was stunned when he ran the numbers. He had become a millionaire with remarkable ease, boasting a net worth of nearly $8 million from his Comnet holdings—rivaling that of Miriam!

° ° °

Sơn realized there was no other option but to call Lữ back to manage the partnership; the massive returns from the Comnet investment had swelled the partnership's assets far beyond Sơn's capacity to manage. Furthermore, Lữ had become the sole owner of all VietCal Partnership assets. Triệu Tôn and Uyên had passed away, and a few months earlier, Sơn had received news of Vấn’s death—his body having been found by Paris police in the Bois de Boulogne.

After a perfunctory investigation, French police—basing their conclusion on a packet of heroin found on the victim—ruled the incident a settling of scores between drug trafficking gangs and closed the case. Sơn searched his notebook for Lữ’s phone number. Lữ would only call back every two or three months; he spoke to no one—not even Sơn—and would only disclose his latest whereabouts to the secretary. Sơn examined the number closely: it was from Sorrento, in southern Italy. He dialed the number to call Lữ.

 
Chapter 56
 
Lữ endured the darkest days of his life after killing Vấn. For the six months following Uyên’s death, he had lived solely with the obsession of tracking Vấn down and killing him to avenge her. Lữ had believed he would find peace of mind once he located Vấn and exacted retribution upon his enemy; instead, he was driven to the brink of madness after the night he shot Vấn in the Bois de Boulogne.

He had run through the woods all night like a madman; towards dawn, he checked into a small hotel on the outskirts of Paris and slept for two full days and nights. He had no fear of the police finding him, for he had left no trace behind. He had worn gloves while shooting Vấn and had tossed them into the fireplace upon arriving at the hotel. Yet, a strange sensation took hold of his soul in the days after he awoke and regained his senses: a morbid melancholy, a weariness with life, and a tormenting remorse over Uyên’s death—compounded by the haunting memory of the look in Vấn’s eyes as he recognized Lữ and stared into the barrel of the gun.

Lữ wanted to stop thinking; he did not want to return to California. He boarded a train for the south of France and began an aimless journey. He passed through small towns, stopping for a few days in each and walking long distances to ensure he was exhausted enough to sleep when night fell. He sought to cast aside all images of his previous, turbulent life, to set his mind at ease and find peace. He traveled without a fixed destination, and after three months of wandering through France, he crossed into Italy. One day, he arrived in Sorrento, a small town in southern Italy; he fell in love with the place instantly and decided to stay.

Everyone has a setting, a dwelling, or a city that suits them—a place where the inner self and the external world harmonize to nurture the life of the spirit. Lữ felt as though Sorrento was a city destined for him; the longer he stayed there, the more he felt a sense of ease returning and found sleep coming more readily than before. He would sit for hours on the nearby beach, reflecting on his life and the upheavals that had swept through it—and thinking of the women who had loved him.

He did not dwell much on Miriam, for she had ultimately found happiness with his close friend. But Uyên—though the memory of her no longer tormented him as it once had—continued to occupy his thoughts. He had believed that what existed between them was merely sex and a shared ambition for wealth. Yet, her death had completely altered his perspective. Uyên had saved his life, shielding him from the gunfire of the Chinese Triad member. Was the ultimate expression of love not the sacrifice of one’s own life for the beloved? And what had he done to deserve such love?

Lữ reflected on his own nature. Caught in the gray area between good and evil, he saw that he had plunged into the abyss of criminality; why, then, had he been graced with Uyên’s sublime love and Miriam’s goodness? And now, when everything seemed to have fallen apart, he still had Kim. He had coolly orchestrated Triệu Tôn’s death at Montello’s hands, ignited a horrific, bloody conflict between two criminal syndicates, and ultimately killed Vấn himself to avenge Uyên. Yet, had Vấn committed those monstrous acts solely because of Lữ’s original transgression? Darkness had enveloped him, acting like a magnet that drew further malevolence into his life and the lives of those closest to him.

Lữ was surprised to find himself pondering the nature of good and evil. Looking back, he realized he had never before questioned the concepts of virtue and vice in his own life. His actions and behavior were driven entirely by instinct. He had relied on survival instincts to endure the brutal war in South Vietnam years ago—instincts that dominated and propelled his every thought and deed.
 
Was the obsession with wealth that had consumed him all these years merely a manifestation of the survival-of-the-fittest instinct inherent in American capitalist society—a drive that had honed his competitive edge to the utmost, ultimately bringing him the prosperity he enjoyed today?

Lữ realized that he had stopped at nothing to secure victory for himself. He could have handled the Triệu Tôn situation differently, without resorting to taking the man's life. Ordinary people would surely have sought more flexible, amicable ways to resolve such difficulties. Why couldn't he do the same? Why did he always choose the darkest path to achieve his ends?

Lữ did not consider himself a good person, nor did he view the other man as inherently evil. Yet, he wondered: how many truly wicked, wretched individuals—even monsters like Hitler or Pol Pot, capable of slaughtering millions—ever actually admitted to being bad? While anyone might possess an innate sense of right and wrong, the act of sitting down to engage in genuine self-examination and questioning one’s own nature was something else entirely. The more he reflected, the more he saw that the tumultuous events of his life were self-inflicted consequences of his own instinctive, amoral actions.

Lữ began to play out "what-if" scenarios for the pivotal moments of his life. Had he remained faithful to Miriam and never entertained thoughts of Uyên as a lover, his life—and the lives of Miriam and Uyên—would not have taken such a turbulent turn.
 
How would he have reacted had he been in Vấn’s shoes—betrayed by someone close? Lữ recalled the look in Vấn’s eyes. Could the consequences of a single person's actions truly be so devastating? Vấn could have acted and reacted differently—changing the entire course of events. It might have been a standard divorce, or a bitter acceptance of the situation. Instead, the path he chose intersected with another’s, setting off a chain of consequences that spiraled endlessly out of control.
 
What if Lữ had never considered eliminating Triệu Tôn? How would his life have unfolded? Lữ realized his mistake the moment he entangled himself with a criminal organization to deal with Triệu Tôn. Instinct had drawn him to Montello—a place where the evils of the world converged, amplifying one another a hundred-thousand-fold compared to the good. He had drifted into that criminal underworld with casual ease, never pausing to reflect, treating it as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
 
Is that simply the nature of life? That goodness is arduous, while evil comes easily? Vấn had acted just as he did, succumbing to the path of least resistance and allowing himself to be swept up in the quest for revenge—letting evil snowball into an unstoppable force.

Lữ sat for hours, watching the waves crash against the rocky shores of Capri, near Sorrento, and contemplated his life. What good had he actually done for the world around him, or for others? What was the true value of his accumulated wealth when it had been nothing more than a game of amassing riches—a pursuit of power that was both absurd and laughable, the folly of a man with too much money?

Fortune had smiled upon him so often—until the day Uyên died in his arms. Was it destiny? A way for him to understand life, to grasp the nature of good and evil, and to discover the true meaning of love? For the first time in his life, Lữ believed in destiny—and accepted his own. Fate had orchestrated the upheavals in his life, plunging him into the abyss of evil and forcing him to confront its true nature. Had destiny led him to Sorrento so he could grasp the meaning of good and evil—and, in doing so, find meaning in his own life?

Lữ let out a long breath. The sea breeze blowing in from the open water seemed to dissipate the fog that had shrouded his existence. He saw his destiny and the path he had to take—a path toward redemption and peace of soul.

Lữ returned to Sorrento from Capri that afternoon; as he stepped into his room, the phone was ringing. It was Sơn on the line, his voice brimming with excitement. He told Lữ that Comnet had just gone public and its stock price had skyrocketed; did Lữ realize how much his net worth had grown? Nearly fifty million US dollars, Sơn said, unable to hide his agitation—he could scarcely fathom the magnitude of the sum.

Lữ listened with indifference, surprised at his own reaction. He hadn't realized such a profound shift had taken place within him. That vast fortune was merely a number, Lữ mused; did he really need it? Once again, he was struck by the thought. Was fate knocking at his door with a sign?
 
Lữ spoke to Sơn:

"You once told me about your dream—to build an orphanage and open a free school for underprivileged children in Vietnam, right? I want you to set up a trust fund and put my entire fortune into it. I want you to make that dream a reality."

Sơn was stunned into silence for several minutes before he could finally speak:

"Your entire fortune? Fifty million US dollars? Then what will you live on? When are you coming back to the States?"
 
Sơn kept asking questions, as if unable to believe what Lữ was saying. He heard Lữ laughing on the other end of the line—a laugh so pure and childlike, a sound Sơn had never heard before. Lữ reassured him:

"No! I’m not crazy. Just do what I told you. I’m staying in Sorrento for a while longer; I can’t come back just yet."

Sơn asked again:

"And Kim? What do you want me to tell her?"

Lữ replied:

"I need a little more time before seeing Kim. If you tell her that, I’m sure she’ll understand."

He hung up the phone. A sense of peace washed over his soul, bringing with it strange, new feelings he had never known before. He thanked destiny for leading him here, for granting him the sweet, gentle comfort of wholesome emotions that were healing his spirit. Perhaps everyone needs a "city for the soul"—like Sorrento—to return to after falling into the abyss; a place to realize that a new, pure, and peaceful life awaits, ready to forgive all past mistakes, wanderings, and follies.

° ° °

Sơn sat with his arms around Miriam in a small Venetian boat; the gondolier, his back bent as he worked the oar, smiled at the couple—two lovers sharing an affectionate moment, just like thousands of newlyweds who had sat in this very gondola before them. They had held a private wedding ceremony in Venice, fulfilling Miriam’s wish—a place of true peace and happiness. Miriam was surprised to find that the image of Lữ had completely vanished from her mind, leaving only Sơn. She felt she could meet Lữ again with perfect composure—simply as a friend of Sơn’s, nothing more, nothing less.

Miriam fed Sơn a ripe, juicy grape and gazed out at the horizon. How could Venice be so beautiful? And how could her happiness be so complete—so utterly perfect? Sơn reclined in the small boat, and Miriam embraced and kissed him. His goodness enveloped her, overflowing. His loving eyes seemed to promise a future—pure, gentle, and serene—much like the music he played every night. Miriam whispered:
 
"I am so happy! I hope Lữ and Kim are just as happy as we are."

Sơn kissed her back and smiled:

"I’m sure they are."

Miriam asked:

"What is Lữ doing these days, Sơn?"

Sơn looked at her. Miriam spoke of Lữ casually, as one might of an acquaintance not seen in a long time. He replied:

"Lữ is still in Sorrento, though Kim has flown over there and travels back and forth. I don’t know when Lữ will return to the States, but I’ve urged him not to let his talent go to waste. I want him to continue helping me manage the trust fund for my social work. He promised to think it over and let me know later."

Miriam stopped listening. She embraced him passionately. Let us speak only of the present, Sơn. Let us savor the happiness right before us. She heard the boatman singing ahead—a song celebrating love and life itself, amidst the blue sky and warm sunshine of Venice. Miriam gave thanks to God, to life, and to that distant land across the Pacific for gifting her such a wonderful lover—for granting her this happiness, a happiness that was ultimate and would last forever.
 
Nguyễn Đình Phùng