Page 84 of Billionaire’s Cruelty

Humans are complicated.

I should stop overanalyzing everything that crossed my mind.

“Got it. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” Once I left Hong Kong, I might never see Dannie again. And I really should stay away from his business.

Amanda glided back into the cafe, the sharp click of her red-bottom heels punctuating the quiet hum of conversation around us. I found myself wondering how much she made as an assistant. My gaze flickered to the latte in front of me—still warm, barely touched. I tapped my phone screen to check the time.

“Is everything okay?” Seeing her back so soon made me nervous. “Are you missing any information or something?”

“Oh no, everything is perfect. Here’s your document. You can enter China freely for the next three years.” Amanda handed me my passport along with a manila folder stuffed with supporting documents.

“Really? That was only…”

“Ten minutes. My personal best.” She flashed a confident smile and threw a wink at Dannie.

“Thanks, Amanda. You’re a star, as always.”

“When will you visit again? I haven’t seen you in, like… forever.” Amanda flirted, her demeanor more relaxed now that Dannie seemed at ease. She pulled out a chair beside him and sat down.

“Your dad has been really busy, and I didn’t want to intrude.” Only then did I realize the connection between Amanda and Mr. Huang. She wasn’t just any assistant—that explained her Instagram-famous aura and the luxury shoes she could somehow afford on an assistant’s salary.

“Nonsense. We’re always happy to see you. Dad’s having a birthday party next month. You’re coming, right?”

“Ah… yes. I’ll be there.”

I didn’t remember seeing her last night. Maybe she wasn’t there, or maybe I was too preoccupied to notice.

I thanked Amanda several times and promised her a tour of New York when she visited next. Meanwhile, Dannie made some vague arrangement to send her expensive gifts—though I was sure she and her father could afford them anyway. But then again, who turns down a free luxury gift?

“Should we grab something to eat?” Dannie’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“I don’t think so.” My response came too quickly, too sharp, like I couldn’t get away fast enough. “I’m sorry, but I need to get on the next available flight.”

“Why don’t we go back to my hotel? I’ll have my secretary meet us there and book you and Wendy the next available flight. It’ll be more efficient than handling everything on your phone.”

He had a point. The last time I checked, Wendy got a room at the hotel, and we were supposed to finalize travel plans after I sorted out my visa.

“You’re right.” I squeezed out a smile, grateful to have a friend like Dannie who always had my best interests at heart.

Traffic in Hong Kong was chaotic in the morning, but with Dannie’s driver waiting for us, we got back to the hotel with minimal hassle. I texted Wendy a couple of times but got no response.

Just as he promised, his secretary, whose name I couldn’t remember—met us in the lobby. The three of us went to the hotel’s breakfast buffet. A waiter immediately recognized Dannie and led us to a private corner, tucked behind a decorative screen near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

After taking our drink orders, the secretary peppered me with a few questions about my travel preferences—departure time, luggage allowance, seating choices—before setting up at a smaller table behind us to book the flights. My only request was the next available flight. Wendy and I didn’t have much baggage, and I didn’t care if I flew coach or business, aisle or window.

Dannie and I returned to our table with plates of food. His was a traditional Chinese breakfast—pickled vegetables and congee. Mine was a Western spread of a cheese omelet and toast.

“Western breakfast, huh?” Dannie mused, eyeing my plate.

“I tried to love congee, but it’s really not my thing.” I pushed a piece of toast through the yolk. “My mother swore by it as a cure-all. Whenever we were sick, she made us eat it with just a dash of soy sauce. My dad was the only one who escaped the forced feedings—being white gave him a pass. My brothers and I, though? We had no choice. Just looking at it gives me goosebump.

Dannie chuckled. “I don’t love it either, but it’s the best cure for a hangover.”

“Oh… I didn’t realize.” I hesitated.

He had told me not to feel bad about being here this morning, but knowing he was dealing with a hangover changed things. “You shouldn’t have come with me. I feel bad.”

“I already told you—I wanted to.” He slurped the rice porridge like it was best medicine.