Chapter 42

Evening had descended, draping Miss Kai’s dining room in a soft, honeyed glow from the chandelier. The air was rich with the scent of roasted herbs and subtle, expensive wine, a domestic atmosphere designed for comfort and ease.

Madame Kai moved around the kitchen with practiced elegance, adding final touches to the table. But tonight, she had arranged more than silverware; she had arranged the presence of one specific person.
Emilio.

He arrived ten minutes early, smoothing his shirt, his smile forced, a quiet dread tightening his chest. He feared Williams, but he came because Miss Kai treated him with a rare, genuine maternal affection. She was a woman of phenomenal presence, capable of navigating the demands of a global empire while offering profound human kindness.

Emilio was the son of a long-time acquaintance; she treated him like family, and he sought refuge in her warmth, even as he faced her lethal daughter.

Miss Kai checked the time. The precise chime of the doorbell marked Williams’ arrival, exactly as the last glass was placed. For Miss Kai, tonight, every detail concerning her daughter was a vital clue.

She stepped inside, expression composed, face unreadable. When her mother moved to embrace her, Williams instinctively placed the champagne and fruit between them, an elegant barrier disguised as a gift.

Ralph noticed.
Emilio noticed even more.

“Come, sit,” Ralph said gently. “Welcome, Williams. Emilio.”

Williams did not offer Emilio so much as a glance. Ralph, however, was not offended; he felt a surge of pity. It is normal for a daughter to love her father so much that she will not allow a replacement, he reasoned, accepting her frostiness as sorrow.

Kai, sensing the silent tension, said softly, “I asked him to come.”

Emilio lowered his gaze. He had not wanted to, but no one said no to Madame Kai. Not because she was intimidating, but because she was someone you did not disappoint. Someone whose disappointment felt like a personal failure.

Williams smiled faintly. Calm. Controlled.

“Since you have been busy,” Kai said, “I knew that if I asked you to call him, you would forget.”

“That’s true,” Williams answered. “I had a lot to handle today.”

“The surgery,” Kai continued. “I saw the interview.”

Williams nodded and took her seat.

The meal began in heavy silence, the clink of cutlery echoing like faint alarms. Miss Kai finally spoke, her voice laced with manufactured lightness. “Tell me, how did the surgery go, Williams? I believe it is finished?”

Williams remained composed, picking up her wine glass with measured precision. “As I told the media, in two days I am convinced that Dr. Niran Williams will announce the good news.”

Miss Kai’s utensil clattered against the plate. She froze, a flicker of pure, agonizing hope crashing into Adeline’s warning. “You mean… you?”

“Excuse me?” Williams looked up, confused.

Miss Kai forced a smile, her throat tight. “You said: ‘Dr. Niran Williams will announce the good news.’ So, you?”

Williams stared at her mother for a silent, unsettling moment, a beat of time where the room felt too small and the air too thick. Then the perfect professional mask returned. “Of course. Me.” She returned to her plate, dismissing the subject.

Kai, trying to ease the tension, added, “But Emilio did not attend your session today. Why was he not included?”

Williams barely glanced at Emilio. Before he could mount a defense, she cut in with the cold authority of a CEO. “The child does not have a gynecological problem. Furthermore, the selection of the team is not mine. The child’s father has…”

“Phew, too much medicine at the table!” Mr. Ralph exclaimed, sensing the shift in pressure. He stroked Miss Kai’s hands, which were near his. “You are smothering her with your questions, darling.”

“But Madame Kai, rest assured, I am also working enormously,” Emilio quickly interjected, trying desperately to dispel the suddenly thick air of suspicion.

The calm resumed when Williams added, her voice controlled and cutting, “The child’s father,” she paused a moment letting it settle, “chose a staff to operate on his child, of which I am a part. I therefore have no power over the doctors who will be included; however, I judge their quality if appropriate.”

Miss Kai exchanged a look of profound dismay with Emilio, who looked bitterly at Williams.

Ralph, smiling genuinely, stood up. “Sorry, I interrupted you.” He left then returned moments later with a platter of golden-brown pancakes, thick, soft, and dusted lightly with sugar. “Here, I made pancakes.” He moved them closer to Williams.

She saw the offerings, then she took the platter. “Thank you.”

Miss Kai relaxed, a wave of relief washing over her. She took the pancakes. She acknowledged Ralph. You cannot thank someone you do not see. Adeline must be wrong.

Emilio, however, remained silent, watching the daughter he feared.

Williams took one of the thick, fluffy pancakes. She placed it carefully on the edge of her plate, retrieved her knife and fork, and began to cut it. Not into halves or quarters, but into tiny, jagged, irregular slivers. She continued until the pancake was a ruined mess of pieces, scattered haphazardly across the white porcelain.

“When someone interrupts a person mid-sentence,” Williams stated, her gaze focused solely on the wreckage on her plate, “it looks like this.” She lifted a tiny, mutilated piece on her fork, holding it up like a specimen. “This is also identical to the state in which the child was admitted to the facility. People destroy; doctors repair.”

The words were an icy punch to the solar plexus. The warm scent of the food was instantly poisoned by the image of a child’s shattered body. Miss Kai gasped. Just seconds ago, she was ready to confirm Adeline was wrong, but now she exchanged a look of cold terror with Emilio. Williams pushed the plate aside and calmly reached for her glass of water.

Ralph stroked Miss Kai’s hand repeatedly, his face a silent expression of empathy and alarm.

Miss Kai’s mind shattered, the entire dining room dissolving into a roaring echo of Adeline’s warnings:

• Williams only cares about Williams. She only seeks to elevate the Williams she has built.
• Williams is not emotional. Williams will never become attached to anyone.
• Williams does not even see you as human beings. She lives. She adapts to you.
• She is loyal to herself. A dormant cocoon that separates her from herself and society.
• But the problem is that the more stressed she becomes, the more the cocoon will fissure. And when the cocoon is completely fissured, those responsible will see her worst.

A cold shiver passed down Madame Kai’s spine.
The pristine dining room, the warm light, the good food, it was all a brittle façade. Miss Kai looked at her daughter, recognizing not her child but the perfect, beautiful creature who had just sliced the pancake with surgical precision, terrifying them all.

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