When he arrived at his destination, Edward Harris received a call from Carl.

  "Shaw, I followed him the whole way. At first, he was walking, very slowly, then he got on a bus, and finally got off near a high-end apartment building and walked there."

  Since Edward Harris didn’t interrupt, Carl continued, "When he arrived, there was a man waiting for him downstairs."

  The silent Edward Harris finally spoke, "What kind of man?"

  His voice became somewhat frightening, very low, as if suppressing his emotions. Carl swallowed and forced himself to describe, "Um... he was Chinese, very tall, about the same height as you, probably around twenty-seven or twenty-eight."

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line, making Carl uneasy.

  "Shaw..."

  "They met, and then?"

  The question was a bit vague, so Carl could only describe everything he saw: "That gentleman seemed to ask something, then patted him on the shoulder, hugged him, and then they went upstairs together."

  "And then?"

  "That's all," Carl answered truthfully. "I didn’t follow them up. After all, it’s their privacy."

  His words sounded like a subtle warning. Edward Harris let out a light laugh, which sounded both contemptuous and self-mocking.

  "You did the right thing."

  A strange sense of fear rose in Carl's heart. Edward Harris was acting very strange today. More precisely, ever since that hotel mix-up and meeting that person, Edward Harris had become extremely odd. In all the years he’d worked with him, he’d never seen him laugh like that, nor speak the way he did now.

  "Is there anything else you want me to do?"

  "Yes." Edward Harris entered the elevator and pressed the floor button.

  "Look into someone named Henry Cooper."

  Author’s note:

  【Carl: I thought I did a great job, but I have a vague feeling something’s off】

Chapter 3 N. A Beautiful Night

  Edward Harris arrived late to the banquet, but no one blamed him.

  Those prominent entrepreneurs who, two years ago, looked down on everyone, now greeted him with smiles as if nothing had happened, raising their glasses to the latecomer. Those formulaic smiles looked like admiration for a young talent.

  But Edward Harris never forgot the cold looks they gave him during the Series A funding round.

  He quickly changed his expression, sweeping away the gloom from earlier, and a smile appeared on his face.

  "Sorry, something came up and delayed me. I hope I’m not too late."

  "I told you, Shaw is a true workaholic and the most trustworthy. He must have been delayed by work today," said Mr. Elvis near the head of the table with a smile. "We’re just getting started—the appetizers aren’t even out yet. Shaw, for my sake, you have to enjoy yourself tonight."

  The others chimed in, making the atmosphere lively.

  Edward Harris responded to every request, taking a seat at the long table with these renowned entrepreneurs. With his credentials, he sat next to the head seat. Anyone else might have felt uneasy at such a high position, but Edward Harris's ambition made him feel perfectly at ease.

  He took the hot towel handed to him by the waiter, wiped his hands, and took a sip of the aperitif. The room was warm, and Edward Harris felt his body temperature slowly rising.

  Most of the people at this table were still white men—or rather, the business empires of Wall Street and the Bay Area belonged to them. They competed with each other but also protected each other; no one could shake their dominance.

  Edward Harris was always energetic at work, but today he found it hard to concentrate. Even as he listened to the investors and colleagues talk, the image of Eric Wright kept appearing before his eyes: the dim evening light enveloping him, his face so pale it was almost translucent, and expressionless.

  "Rare to see such a fresh face!"

  A strange woman’s voice sounded. Edward Harris keenly sensed she was speaking to him, so he looked up. It was a red-haired lady, arm in arm with Mr. Jones, entering together. She looked a few years older than him.

  She took a seat diagonally across from him, and Mr. Jones sat at the head of the table. Both of them looked at him.

  Edward Harris instinctively wanted to pull out a business card from his pocket, but as he did, he suddenly realized that he’d been holding and crumpling that card for a long time in the café and never managed to hand it out.

  He paused, then opened his wallet and took out a brand new business card, handing it to the woman in front of him.

  "I thought you had two kinds of business cards, for different people," she said with a smile. Her hand, painted with bright red nail polish, took the card. She glanced at it, then, as if showing her hand in a poker game, displayed his card and joked, "Ah, looks like I got the official one."

  The other guests at the banquet laughed along. Edward Harris just smiled and didn’t explain.

  "Nice to meet you. I’m Julie Sewell, but you can just call me Julie." Across the flowers and expensive plates on the table, she smiled and reached out to Edward Harris.

  "Edward Harris." He lightly shook her bright, fiery fingertips as a gesture of courtesy.

  "I like Eastern men," Julie said, brushing her curls off her shoulder with a smile. "Eastern men have a special kind of reserve and gentlemanliness."