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“You get what you get when you lie with murderers.”
“Yeah, and what do shitty mothers like you get? One son dead and another thrown away.”
Aya pales, whether in righteous indignation or hurt at being called out for her mess, I can’t tell.
“You never deserved Shinji and nothing he did merited your abhorrent treatment of a grieving brother. All that hate you had for him, you should have directed it at the real culprits. But that’s fine. He has people in his life who’ll get him the justice you never fought for.”
“You have no right?—”
“I have every right to stand up for the love of my life since you couldn’t. I swear if making you disappear would solve his heartache, all traces of you would be gone already. But he still has fond memories of you, and I won’t tarnish them any more than you have. At least, while those memories don’t pain him. My generosity only goes so far.”
Aya snatches her arm from Hikaru and stomps over to jab my chest. “Fumio was funny and weaker than Shinji. He didn’t have the same sense of caution. Shinji knew this, but he thought only of himself when he allowed Fumio to walk into a dangerous party.” Angry tears stream down Aya’s face.
They don’t move me.
“Thenyoudid a shitty job in preparing him. Shinji’s job was to be a student and have fun with his brother, not babysit a man the same age as him.” I rub my stomach, directing her eyes to my pregnancy. “You know… I’ve been afraid of motherhood my entire life, but I have to thank you now. With such an abysmal example of what not to be, even at my worst, I’ll be better than you. And my child will be so much better off without you in their life. I hope you die a bitter woman realizing you could have experienced the joy of being a grandmother but you let your hatefulness stand in the way.”
The shock and pain overcoming Aya’s face doesn’t fully appease my need to avenge Shinji’s years of isolation and loneliness as he struggled to reinvent himself and to stand on his own, but it helps. I walk away leaving them standing in the middle of their walkway.
Riu opens my car door for me.
We’re going on a road trip while Shinji takes over Takeshi’s guarding duties.
I’ve begun to appreciate Katsuo, and now understand why Kori gives him a pass. His silent, threatening demeanor seems almost harmless whenever his family is in need. And he extends his generosity to all his Kimura brotherhood, not just his immediate family. The danger he represents is real; the man helped my husbands rescue me and left a lot of dead bodies on his way to aid us. Even so, Takeshi asked for resources, and in less than a week he got the names, addresses, and life stories of the four men who killed Fumio Nakashima.
I arrive at a private airstrip. Takeshi is already waiting on me. He greets me with a smile, then ushers me out of the car and toward the private jet.
“Did you accomplish what you wanted?” His lips firm, quietly communicating his disapproval of my confrontation with Shinji’s biological family.
Just like our argument this morning, I shrug off his displeasure. “I suppose. At least I knocked her off that pedestal she put herself on and reduced it to rubble. She won’t have the nerve to fix her face against our husband in the future.”
Takeshi shakes his head but remains otherwise silent on the topic.
We strap our seatbelts on for the three-hour flight to Silicon Valley and I rest my head against Takeshi’s shoulder. Six men pass by to take their seats. They’re large and rugged and their presence will help us have a peaceful conversation to prepare for the much deeper one we’ll have with Shinji.
Takeshi’s cologne soothes me, calming the residual tension in my body from my confrontation with Aya. I relax into his warmth and within five minutes, I fall asleep.
Too soon, Takeshi shakes me awake. Dry air hits me the moment we disembark. After a short drive, we arrive at a private equity firm. Men and women mill in the lobby, pacing and reviewing their pitches for the firm’s investment. We walk past everyone, including the receptionist who chases us, discreetly admonishing us for not having an appointment.
We head straight to the CEO’s office and walk in without knocking. The man takes one look at us and hangs up the phone.
“Security is on their way.” He stands and rounds his desk.
Takeshi says, “If you like walking, you’ll cancel security because I guarantee I’ll get to you before they get to me. And when your people arrive, you’ll see how much better trained my men are. Now do you want to test me, or do you want to discuss why I’m here?”
The man backs away and makes a call.
“Wise decision.” Takeshi places his hand on my spine and ushers me toward the seating area. “Now that we’ve deescalated the situation, we’re missing a few people for this conversation.” Takeshi hands a list to his man who places it in front of theCEO. “They should also be in the office today. Call them in. We’ll wait.”
Takeshi sits beside me. Before long three men file in, laughing and patting each other on the back for convincing a small business to file for bankruptcy.
“Hey, Clay, what’s so urgent you called us in?” A sun-kissed blond man said.
Clay, the CEO, nods toward us. “They requested a meeting with us.”
Four pairs of eyes turn on us. They look like the stereotypical all-American college athletes who have never experienced hardship in their lives. Instead, they orchestrate all the evils and exploitation of unsuspecting and trusting individuals. From their success as adults, they’ve never met a consequence they deserved in their lives.
Takeshi opens his mouth, but I pat him on the knee.
