Adrian intercepted the men before they could press the bell again. Two suits, the lower of them fat with corporate insomnia, introduced themselves as corporate auditors. Their breath smelled faintly of whiskey and prepared lies.
"What are you doing here?" Adrian asked. His voice was careful; it was iron under ice.
"We were sent by a—" the fat one began, glancing at the ledger carelessly hiding on a table in Renée's backroom. He looked at the group of women like he had been told he would find laundresses and found instead a court.
"You were sent by Victor Hsu," Renée stated. The quiet in the room dropped like a heavy curtain.
Adrian's throat closed. He could have turned them away. Instead, he invited them in and watched how they stood in the light. Their discomfort was thin. The lead man collapsed into a chair and drank tea like it could erase his purpose.
"You will not touch her," Adrian said simply. "Walk away."
They laughed, a soft, corporate chuckle that meant men like them always had more cards. "You can't protect people forever," the auditor said. "Contracts speak louder than vows."
Adrian stood. He pressed a hand to the table where Mei sat and said, without theater: "Do not, under any circumstance, speak to her again."
The lead man smiled as if he had been promised something. "Pick your battles well, Mr. Liao. We're all hungry."
After they left, Mei found a small note dropped under the sugar jar. On it a single sentence: You have until the hearing to decide whether you want the truth to be weaponized or freed.
Adrian felt a coldness that tasted like other people's teeth. He realized with a clarity that made his vision tighten: if he didn't expose the rot inside his own house, others would use the rot to tear them both apart.
Cliffhanger: That night Victor calls Adrian directly, his voice sweet as poison: "You ruined my plans. You will pay. Start with the child."