Chaos smells like smoke and burnt ribbon. Renée's salon windows were shattered by late morning—an arsonist had struck. Nobody was hurt, but the message was as loud as a gunshot: We can reach your sanctuary.
Renée refused to close. She barricaded windows with plywood, and the group moved to a temporary meeting space with Elena's old maid as security. The community tightened; the pampering sessions turned tactical: surveillance, volunteer drivers, and pooled funds for legal counsel.
Mei felt the thinness of safety; she walked more cautiously and signed for a rented PO box to build distance. She also started keeping a list of people she trusted—names that once were casual became a new kind of map.
Adrian used the arson as justification to open channels with law enforcement that were more than PR. He hired a detective with a reputation for not being bought. "I need you to find who wants to burn Renée out of town," he said. "And then I need you to leave the women alone."
The detective found fingerprints on a broken candle holder. The prints matched a paid consultant who'd been on Victor's payroll years ago. The consultant, now cornered, admitted to staging small intimidations in exchange for money and a promise the work would protect the Liao family's interests.
Victor's network was deeper than anyone had thought. The consultant spat the names like someone naming insects.
Mei sat in Renée's patched couch at night, the baby sleeping and her hands moving like prayer. She traced her past as if it were a wound that she could study and learn from. To be the center of such hunger was a terrifying thing—and it made her resolve harden.
Cliffhanger: The detective brings a new piece of evidence: a notarized transfer of a guardian file—signed by someone with Eleanor's initials and dated two days before Mei's birth.