A new day dawned over Cyberjaya. Light spilled through the thin curtains of Ryona's modest bedroom, brushing across her bare shoulders.
She stirred with a soft groan and stretched her arms overhead, her brown wavy hair tumbling around her face in tousled curls.
She inhaled, then blinked as the rich scent of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee drifted under the door.
"Mmm… somethin' smells mighty fine," she murmured to herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
A moment later, she heard a groggy voice from the next room.
"Honey?" Belle called out, her soft southern drawl thick with sleep. "Who in the blazes is cookin' breakfast this early, besides us?"
Ryona pushed her hair back, already smiling. "Beats me, Mama. Let's go see."
Both women stepped into the hall in their robes, blinking into the kitchen's warm glow. They stopped short.
Shen Goddem stood behind the stove, humming low under his breath. The air was alive with the aroma of an English breakfast.
Golden eggs, crispy bacon, two thick slices of buttered toast, one slathered in sweet jam, the other crowned with smooth peanut cream. On the side, a small saucepan simmered with fresh baked beans.
He glanced over his shoulder and gave them a teasing smile.
"Well, look who's awake. Two sleepy birds finally leavin' the nest."
Belle's cheeks warmed as she pressed her hand to her chest. "Oh hush now, dear boy. You're makin' this old lady feel young again."
Ryona burst out laughing, covering her face. "Mama!"
Shen just chuckled and set plates on the table, then gestured for them to sit.
"Wash up first," he said, "and then dig in."
After freshening up, Belle and Ryona returned in clean clothes and took their seats. Each picked up a fork and tasted the meal.
"Oh Lord…" Ryona closed her eyes, savoring the buttery toast. "Shen, this is…this is incredible."
"Mmm-hmm!" Belle tapped her plate with her fork. "Sweet boy, you been holdin' out on us with all this fancy cookin'."
Ryona leaned back, chewing slowly, while Belle stuffed another bite into her mouth a little too fast. She coughed, hand fluttering to her throat.
Shen was beside her in an instant, patting her back gently. "Easy now. No rush."
Belle blinked up at him, her eyes bright with gratitude. "Shen…you really are startin' to feel like a mother and a father rolled into one."
Ryona shot her mother a mortified look. "Mama…!"
Belle laughed, waving her hand.
Ryona glanced at the wall clock—and bolted upright.
"Oh Lord! I'm late!"
Belle looked over and slapped her forehead. "And so am I!"
They both scrambled to gather their bags. Ryona worked at a corporate office across town, while Belle owned a little café down the block, a bright corner spot that had survived all the ups and downs of her life.
But as Ryona struggled to pull on her shoes, Shen's brows knit in confusion.
"Wait," he said quietly. "Belle…your café is still open?"
Belle paused, her fingers tightening on her purse strap. "Yes, sugar. Barely, but…still hangin' on."
"And…what about your husband?" Shen's voice was softer now, careful.
For a moment, Belle didn't speak. Her eyes went distant. "He left us," she whispered. "Ran off with some fancy mistress. Left me to fend for myself. He…he did more than that, but I…"
Her voice broke.
Without a word, Shen stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. Belle pressed her face against his shoulder, a single tear sliding down her cheek.
"Don't say it," he murmured. "You're safe now. I'm here, Mama Belle."
Ryona wiped her own eyes as she watched them, her heart swelling with something she hadn't felt in years—hope.
When they finally pulled away, Shen pressed two neatly wrapped lunches into their hands.
"Take these," he said, smiling again. "No sense in starvin' after such a rough night."
They left together, Belle squeezing his hand as they went. For a moment, Shen watched their retreating backs, warmth flickering in his chest.
Then his smile faded. His eyes turned cold, flat as polished slate.
"Tch," he muttered under his breath. "Typical. Spineless bastard."
He turned and grabbed his jacket. There were some things he needed to confirm—things that couldn't wait any longer.
Outside, he mounted a beat-up old scooter, rode it three blocks, then slipped into the private underground garage of his skyscraper.
The moment he walked in, Xin Yin Jin nearly ran straight into him. She stumbled to a halt, her generous curves pressing against the crisp white blouse stretched over her hourglass frame.
"Ah—Boss!" she squeaked, cheeks flushing. "I thought you'd be stayin' with Miss Ryona this mornin'…"
"Less talkin', more investigatin'," Shen interrupted, his tone clipped and icy.
Xin Yin Jin swallowed. She could read him like an open book, something was wrong. Without another word, she followed him into his office, the top floor of the Black Dragon Group's headquarters, where the entire city sprawled beyond the glass walls.
Shen sat down in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, elbow propped on the armrest. He steepled his fingers and looked up at her.
"I want everything on Ryona and Belle Monroe. And her father. Leave nothin' out."
Xin Yin Jin nodded briskly and slipped out, her heels tapping across the polished marble floor. Within minutes, she returned, tablet in hand.
She adjusted her glasses and began.
"Sir. Ryona Monroe, she was indeed supposed to be the next head of the Monroe family. However, she was replaced by Jhon Monroe's third brother's son. Phineas Monroe. Thirteen years old."
Shen's gaze didn't flicker. He watched her, silent.
"Belle Monroe," Xin continued, tapping the screen. "Age fifty-three. She was her father's favored child. Until her husband, Vince Dubuois, betrayed the family."
"Keep goin."
"He sold internal company documents to Russian buyers. Weapons manufacturing contracts. Stockholder ledgers. Then he…"
Her throat tightened.
"He abused Belle and Ryona. When the scandal broke, all the blame was pinned on Belle. Jhon Monroe spared her life…only for Ryona's sake."
Crack.
Xin Yin Jin flinched. Shen's knuckles had gone white around the chair armrest, the wood groaning under the pressure.
"Keep talkin'," he said quietly.
Xin swallowed. "Ryona's grandmother—the one who started the whole succession scheme, passed away recently. Before she died, she named Phineas Monroe as heir."
Silence filled the office. Shen leaned back, his jaw tight, eyes locked on the far wall.
"Ryona…how much have you suffered," he murmured. His voice turned into a low promise. "This time, I'll give you the life you deserve. You and Mama Belle. No Monroes, no Tuckers. Just us three. Peaceful. Quiet."
His phone buzzed. He looked down and saw Belle's name.
He answered instantly. "Mama Belle?"
"Shen…" Her voice quivered. "Could you come down to the café for me? I…I need your help, please."
His heart sank. He could hear how fragile she sounded.
"I'll be there in five minutes."
He hung up and stood, his face unreadable. "Xin. Call in security. Two men. Keep watch on Belle's café. No contact unless I say."
"Yes, sir."
He changed into plain street clothes and slipped back onto his scooter. Belle texted the address as he rode, the engine rattling under him.
When he reached the corner café, a crowd had gathered outside. Belle stood by the entrance, hands trembling as she tried to bow her head in apology to someone.
"Mama Belle!" Shen's voice sliced through the murmurs. He rushed to her side, catching her shoulders before she could lower herself any further. "What happened? Who are these people?"
A deep, smug voice answered behind them.
"Oh? And who might you be—her son?"
Shen turned slowly.
A fat stranger lounged against a black Bentley, garish in a leopard-print jacket and enough gold jewelry to sink a skiff.
Beside him, a curvy woman in cheap, heavy makeup blew a pink bubble of gum and popped it with a snap.
"I ain't her son," Shen said flatly, his gaze locked on the stranger. "But she sees me as one. And I see her as my mother."
The man's brow arched. "You got a mouth on you, boy."
Shen smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"And you," he said softly, voice like a blade, "are someone you don't wanna fuck with, fatty."
The café fell dead silent.
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Chapter 7 — End.