Chapter 4: Dinner with the Wolves
> "Just smile and don't say anything stupid."
That was Kai's only game plan as he stood in front of the massive penthouse mirror.
The reflection staring back at him wore a tailored navy-blue suit, white shirt crisp as snow, and a Rolex that could probably pay off his entire Mafia debt back in his old life. He adjusted his cufflinks like he'd seen rich guys do in movies.
> "I look like a CEO's son... but I feel like a broke ghost wearing someone else's skin."
(Being Rich is both amazing and strange altogether)
He didn't know how to act like Tony Bellingham—but he had no choice. Cristiano Bellingham( His dad) was waiting.
The private dinner was held at the top floor of Bellingham Tower, the tallest building in the city. The dining room had floor-to-ceiling glass walls, a view of Tokyo's skyline glowing beneath the night sky. The air smelled like imported wine and million-dollar decisions.
Cristiano sat at the head of the table. A sleek, silver-haired man with hawk-like eyes and the kind of calm that could crush you. His voice was quiet—but it commanded attention like a gunshot.
"Kai," he said as his son walked in, "you're late."
Kai froze.
He was exactly on time.
(Too everyone's surprise)
Clara, standing near the wall with a digital tablet, gave him a subtle nod: Don't argue.
"Sorry, sir," Kai muttered, taking his seat.
Around the table were men in designer suits—investors from Europe and the States. A translator sat at the edge, whispering in ears.
Cristiano motioned to the waiter. Dishes were served. Some kind of seared steak with gold flakes. Kai didn't even know where to start. He was still eyeing the fork when someone said:
"So, Tony. What's your opinion on Goal-Coin's next valuation leap?"
All eyes turned to him.
(> Shit.)
What's a Goal-Coin?
(What the hell is a Goal-coin???)
He cleared his throat. "I think… we should let the market talk first. No need to rush projections, right?"
Silence covered everywhere.
Then Cristiano smiled. "Interesting answer."
Everyone nodded slowly, impressed.
(> No idea what I just said, but thank God they bought it.)
As the night wore on, Kai mostly kept quiet. He copied Cristiano's posture, laughed when others laughed, and tried not to spill wine on his lap.
To his right, a woman in a red dress giggled softly after a toast. She whispered to the man beside her, casting glances his way. He wondered if Tony had ever flirted with her. If so, was he supposed to respond?
He kept his cool, stuck to the plan: Say less. Smile more.
Then the dinner ended. The guests left. The room cleared.
Cristiano stayed seated.
"Son," he said without turning around, "walk with me."
Kai followed him to the glass balcony.
The city lights below shimmered like a dream. Or a warning.
Cristiano lit a cigar, silent for a moment. Then:
"You've changed."
Kai tensed.
(Could he have noticed?)
"You're more careful. Less arrogant. You even thanked the waiter." He turned. "Who are you trying to impress?"
Kai kept his face still. "No one."
Cristiano studied him.
"I don't like surprises, Tony. But I like this version of you… for now. Just don't make me regret it."
> Noted.
Don't die again.
(Not now....Not ever)
As Cristiano walked off, Clara appeared beside Kai.
"Nice save," she whispered. "You almost sounded like a businessman tonight."
Kai exhaled. "I had no idea what they were talking about."
She grinned. "They didn't either. That's half of business."
They stood together a moment longer, watching the night.
Then a vibration in Kai's pocket.
He pulled out Tony's sleek black phone. A message flashed:
> Mai Suzumia:
Hey Tony, looking cute as always.
Kai frowned. The name rang a bell. Then it clicked.
Mai Suzumia. Daughter of Akira Suzumia, multi-millionaire and founder of Suzumia Enterprises. Her face had been on the news with headlines like "Asia's Youngest CEO in Waiting" and "The Princess of Tokyo's Elite."
He looked up.
A soft giggle.
He turned around—
—and there she was.
Long black hair, tied up in a stylish ponytail. A white fur shawl draped around her shoulders. Elegant. Beautiful. Dangerous.
She leaned against the marble column, holding a champagne flute like she'd been born with one in her hand.
"Hey, Tony," she said again, lips curling into a smirk. "Miss me?"
Fade to black.