Chapter 77 Wounded Pride
The black sedan was parked at the south entrance, engine idling, exhaust pluming into the warm afternoon air.
Inside, Xie Heng sat in the back seat, a cigar clamped between his teeth. The smoke curled up toward the roof, thick and grey. His jacket was off. His sleeves were rolled up. His tie was loosened but he was not a patient man.
He checked his watch. Then checked it again. The minutes crawled. Dr. Harrison had been inside for hours. Hours. What could possibly take so long?
He cursed under his breath. Then louder.
"Where the hell is he?" he snarled.
The driver, a thin man with a nervous twitch, shrugged. "I don’t know, boss. Maybe he left through another exit?"
Xie Heng’s hand shot out. He grabbed the driver by the collar. He yanked him sideways. The driver’s head hit the window.
"Don’t give me excuses," Xie Heng said. His voice was low. Dangerous. "Find him. Now."
The driver’s face was pale. "Yes, boss. I’ll—I’ll check."
Xie Heng released him. The driver scrambled out of the car. He nearly fell in his haste.
Xie Heng leaned back. He took a long drag from his cigar. The smoke burned his lungs. He welcomed the pain.
His mother was dying. Every day she grew weaker. Every day he failed her.
And that old doctor—that smug, self-righteous old man—would not even see him.
He slammed his fist against the seat.
One of the thugs leaned into the car window.
"Boss," he said. "They’re coming out."
Xie Heng sat up. He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
He looked toward the building entrance.
Dr. Harrison walked out first. His white hair caught the sun. His posture was straight. He looked calm. Unbothered.
Behind him was the woman.
Xie Heng’s blood went cold.
Then hot.
The woman from the pizza shop. The one with the empty gun. The one who had humiliated him in front of his men.
His hands curled into fists.
"That’s her," he said. His voice was a growl. "That’s the bitch."
The thug nodded. "Yeah, boss. We saw her go in earlier. With the old man."
Xie Heng’s eyes narrowed. Fury burned in his chest. He had been waiting for Dr. Harrison. He had not expected to see her.
But now that he had, he could not look away.
She was walking beside the old doctor. They were talking, smiling and laughing. They were fucking laughing and Xie Heng’s jaw tightened.
He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to make her pay for what she had done. The embarrassment. The humiliation. The way she had made him kneel.
"Oh, I’m going to enjoy this," he murmured.
The thug leaned closer. "Boss, should we grab her now? There’s only a few bodyguards. We can take them."
Xie Heng’s hand shot up. "Wait."
"But boss—"
"I said wait." His eyes were fixed on Dr. Harrison. The old man was still there. Still close. Still within earshot.
If they grabbed the woman now, the doctor would see. He would call the police. He would cause trouble.
Xie Heng had already made that mistake once. Kidnapping the doctor had been stupid. He had nearly lost everything.
He would not make the same mistake twice.
"Wait until the old man leaves," Xie Heng said. "Then we take her."
The thug nodded. He stepped back.
Xie Heng watched. His fingers drummed against the car door.
One of the other thugs spoke. His voice was low. Speculative.
"Boss," he said, "do you think she’s his mistress?"
Xie Heng turned to look at him. "Whose mistress?"
"The doctor’s. Old Gao’s." The thug shrugged. "She went in with him. They had lunch together. They came out together. They were laughing."
Xie Heng considered this.
A mistress. It made sense. The old man was rich. Widowed. A woman like that, young, pretty, desperate, would latch onto someone like him.
He sneered.
"Of course," he said. "She’s probably spreading her legs for him. That’s how she got the gun. That’s how she learned to act so tough."
The thugs laughed.
Xie Heng’s sneer deepened. "A whore playing dress-up. Pretending to be something she’s not."
He thought about the pizza shop. The way she had pressed the gun to his head. The way she had smiled when she revealed it was empty.
She had humiliated him. A common mistress. A kept woman.
His hatred sharpened.
Another thug spoke. "Boss, if she’s his mistress, we can use her. Grab her, threaten her, make the old man do what we want."
Xie Heng’s eyes glittered.
The idea was good. Too good.
If they took the woman, Dr. Harrison would have to negotiate. He would have to treat Xie Heng’s mother. He would have to give her the best care.
Xie Heng smiled. It was not a nice smile.
"Yes," he said. "That’s exactly what we’ll do."
He looked at his men.
"Listen carefully. When the old man leaves, we move. Grab the woman. Put her in the car. Quietly. Quickly. No witnesses."
The thugs nodded.
"Anyone gets in the way," Xie Heng continued, "you break their legs. Anyone tries to stop us, you put a bullet in them."
He reached into his jacket. He pulled out a pistol. He checked the chamber. Full.
He tucked it back into his waistband.
"Understood?"
"Yes, boss."
Dr. Harrison’s car pulled up to the curb.
A black sedan. A driver in a suit. Veyra stood on the sidewalk, talking to the old man. She was smiling. Her bodyguards were nearby, but not too close.
Xie Heng watched. His fingers tightened around the door handle.
Dr. Harrison shook Veyra’s hand. He said something. She nodded. He climbed into the car.
The door closed.
The car pulled away.
Veyra stood alone on the sidewalk, watching it go.
Xie Heng’s smile widened.
"Now," he said.
The car doors opened. Thugs poured out. Five of them. Six. They moved fast. Surrounding her. Cutting off her escape.
Li Wei stepped forward. His hand went to his jacket.
One of Xie Heng’s men blocked him. "Stay back."
Li Wei’s eyes flicked to Veyra. She shook her head. Just slightly. A signal. Don’t.
Li Wei stopped.
Xie Heng climbed out of the car. He leaned on his cane. His leg still hurt from where he had knelt on the concrete. The wound on his pride was deeper.
He walked toward Veyra. His steps were slow. Deliberate. Triumphant.
The thugs parted to let him through.
Veyra stood in the center of the circle. Her back was straight. Her face was calm.
Xie Heng stopped in front of her. He looked down at her. She was shorter than him. Smaller. Weaker.
But her eyes were steady.
"You don’t look scared," he said.
Veyra tilted her head. "Should I be?"
Xie Heng laughed. "You should be terrified."
He gestured to his men. "You see them? They’re not here to talk. They’re here to take you. You’re coming with me."
Veyra did not move. "Am I?"
"You can come quietly. Or you can come with a broken arm. The choice is yours."
She looked at him. Her expression did not change.
"Xie Heng," she said, "you’re making a mistake."
"I don’t think so."
Veyra’s eyes moved to his cane. To his leg. To the face that still bore the red mark from where she had slapped him in the pizza shop.
"You’re still limping," she said.
Xie Heng’s face darkened.
"That must have been a hard fall," she continued. "Kneeling on concrete. In front of your men. In front of strangers."
His grip on the cane tightened.
"Your knees must still ache," Veyra said. "Your pride must ache more."
Xie Heng’s jaw was stone.
"Let me go," Veyra said quietly. "Walk away. Pretend you never saw me."
"Or what?"
"Or I’ll make you regret it."
Xie Heng stared at her. Then he laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound.
"You?" he said. "You’ll make me regret it? With what? Your empty gun? Your old man’s money?" He stepped closer. "You’re nothing. A mistress. A whore. The only reason you’re still standing is because I haven’t decided to knock you down."
Veyra’s eyes narrowed.
"That’s what you think I am? His mistress?"
"What else would you be?"
Veyra smiled. It was a cold smile. The kind of smile that promised violence.
"Xie Heng," she said. "You have no idea who I am."
"Then tell me."
"No."
She raised her hand.
The slap came out of nowhere.
It cracked across Xie Heng’s face like a whip. His head snapped to the side. His cheek burned. His ear rang.
The thugs froze.
Xie Heng stood there, stunned. His hand went to his face. He touched his cheek. It was red. Hot.
No one had slapped him in years. Not since he was a child. Not since his mother.
He turned back to look at her.
The fury in his chest exploded.
His hand moved to his waistband. He pulled out the pistol. He pressed the barrel against her forehead.
The metal was cold. Black. Final.
"Say goodbye," Xie Heng said and Veyra did not flinch.