Gene walked into Steven's office Monday morning with his answer ready.
"I'm not going to Singapore," he said before Steven could even look up from his laptop.
Steven's fingers paused on the keyboard. "What?"
"The logistics deal. Tell your father I'm passing." Gene sat down across from him. "I've been thinking about it all weekend. Singapore's a good opportunity, but it's not what I want."
"What do you want?"
"To stay here. Build something from the ground up, not just manage someone else's operation." Gene pulled out his phone, opened a document he'd been working on since Saturday. "I want to start a fund. Small, focused on Southeast Asian supply chains that aren't going to get people killed. Legitimate deals, clean money, no connections to Party officials or triads."
Steven stared at him. "You want to compete with me?"
"No. I want to partner with you. Different fund, same network. You handle the big-ticket investments, I focus on smaller emerging opportunities. We share research, share connections, but operate independently." Gene slid his phone across the desk. "I've got maybe a hundred and fifty thousand left. Enough to get started if I'm smart about it."
Steven scrolled through the document, his expression unreadable. Gene had spent the entire weekend mapping out the plan—target sectors, risk management strategies, how to source deals without the connections Gene didn't have yet.
"This is good," Steven said finally. "Really good. But you're missing something."
"What?"
"Capital. A hundred and fifty thousand won't get you far. You need at least a million to be taken seriously." Steven closed the document, handed back the phone. "What if I invested? Not as your boss—as a limited partner. You run the fund, I get a percentage of returns."
Gene's heart was racing. "You'd do that?"
"I'd bet on you, yeah. You've proven you can spot opportunities. You've got instincts I don't have. And honestly?" Steven leaned back. "I've been thinking about scaling back. Doing less, being more selective. Diana's death made me realize I've been chasing deals I don't even care about just to keep moving. Maybe it's time to slow down."
"Who are you and what did you do with Steven Chen?"
"Pottery therapy is working, apparently." Steven smiled—a real one. "Look, I'm not saying I'm going to become some zen master who works thirty hours a week. But maybe sixty instead of eighty. Maybe taking weekends off occasionally. Maybe investing in people instead of just deals."
Gene thought about Lin Yue's words at the party. About taking risks. About building something that mattered.
"Okay," he said. "Let's do it."
They spent the next three hours hammering out details. Steven would put in seven hundred and fifty thousand. Gene would contribute his remaining savings. They'd split management responsibilities—Gene handling day-to-day operations, Steven providing oversight and connections.
"We need a name," Steven said as they were wrapping up.
"For the fund?"
"Yeah. Something that doesn't sound like every other venture capital firm in Asia."
Gene thought about it. "What about Crossroads Capital? We're at the intersection of different markets, different approaches. Plus it sounds less pretentious than most fund names."
"I like it. Simple, direct, doesn't oversell." Steven pulled out his phone. "I'll have my lawyer draft the partnership documents. We can be operational in two weeks."
After Gene left, he texted Mei: *Not going to Singapore. Starting my own fund instead.*
Her response: *FINALLY. Proud of you. Drinks tonight to celebrate?*
*Can't. Meeting potential investors with Steven. Rain check?*
*You're already thinking like a founder. I hate it but also love it*
That evening, Steven took Gene to dinner with three potential investors—people from Mr. Chen's network who were looking for new opportunities. Gene pitched Crossroads Capital, fielded questions about strategy and risk management, and watched Steven back him up without taking over.
It felt right. Like they'd found a balance that worked for both of them.
Around 10 PM, after the investors had left and they were walking back toward their apartments, Steven stopped.
"I should tell you something," he said.
"What?"
"When my father suggested you go to Singapore, part of me hoped you'd say no." Steven looked uncomfortable. "Not because I don't think you could handle it. But because working with you has been… I don't know. Different than working with most people. You push back when I'm wrong. You call me on my shit. Diana used to do that. Mei did that. I need people who do that or I turn into someone I don't like."
"So you want me around to be your conscience?"
"I want you around because you make the work better. Make me better, probably." Steven shoved his hands in his pockets. "Anyway. That's what I wanted to say. I'm glad you're staying."
"Me too."
They parted ways at the next intersection—Steven heading north, Gene east. As Gene walked home through Taipei's nighttime chaos, he felt something he hadn't felt since arriving: certainty.
Not about the fund succeeding. Not about making millions or breaking into elite circles or any of that.
Just certainty that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, doing exactly what he was meant to do.
His phone buzzed. Lin Yue.
*Heard you're starting a fund. Want me to intro you to some people?*
*Always*
*Brunch Saturday. Bring your pitch deck and your A-game*
Gene smiled and pocketed his phone.
Six months ago he'd been a guy from Queens pretending to be someone else, desperate to fit into a world he barely understood.
Now he was Gene Eu, co-founder of Crossroads Capital, with a business partner he trusted and a future he'd built himself.
Not bad for a fake rich kid from New York.
Not bad at all.