Her mother frowned, trying to remember. “Such a nice woman came by. Very professional. Beautiful red dress, I remember that. She made it all so easy. Barely any paperwork, wonderful terms. The interest was so reasonable we almost couldn’t believe it.”
The pendant went ice-cold against Ava’s skin.
“Red dress?” Her voice came out strange. Thin. “Do you remember her name?”
“Something elegant…” Her mother tapped her chin, oblivious to her daughter’s growing horror. “Lily? No, Lilith.” She smiled at the memory. “She said she specialized in helping small family businesses. Knew all about the neighborhood. She even knew about your grandmother’s dumplings. Said she’d heard they were legendary.”
Victor’s hand found Ava’s under the table. Squeezed hard enough to hurt.
“She came back a few times over the years,” her father added, reaching for a sesame ball. “Always interested in how the business was doing. Asked about you once or twice, how you were doing in school. Your mother showed her your report cards.”
The room tilted. Ava gripped the edge of the table.
“She seemed to care,” her mother continued. “Not like those other bankers who just want their money. She said we were a good investment. That our family would go far.”
Fifteen years. Lilith had been planning this since Ava was twelve. Since her grandmother died. Since Peterson Holdings was registered in Delaware.
They’ve been watching our family for a long time. Before you. Before me.
Her grandmother had known. Had tried to warn her.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Her mother leaned closer. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine.” Ava forced a smile that felt like cracked glass. “Just remembered something about work.”
Victor’s thumb traced circles on her palm. Grounding her. Keeping her from screaming.
“Speaking of tradition,” her mother said, moving past the moment with characteristic momentum, “when do we meet your family, Victor?”
“I don’t have much family left, I’m afraid.”
“Oh.” Her mother’s face softened instantly, aggression dissolving into warmth. “Well, you have us now. You’ll come for Lunar New Year. No arguments.”
“Mom, that’s months away…”
“So? Good things are worth planning for.” She patted Victor’s hand, the gesture so natural it made Ava’s throat tight. “Bring your appetite. We do thirteen courses.”
When they finally left,her parents loaded them with enough leftovers to feed an army. Containers stacked in bags, each one labeled in her mother’s precise handwriting:Duck - reheat 350,Dumplings - steam only,For Victor - mapo tofu recipe inside.
Her mother hugged Victor at the door, reaching up on tiptoes, pulling him down to her level with surprising strength. He looked stunned. Ava realized, with a pang, that he probably hadn’t been hugged like that in centuries.
Her father shook his hand again, this time with warmth. “Don’t be strangers,” he said. “She forgets to visit when she’s working too hard.”
“We’ll come more often,” Victor promised.
Her mother pulled him down to whisper in his ear, one hand cupped like she was sharing state secrets. Whatever she said made him nod solemnly, his expression changing.
Ava hugged her father goodbye, breathing in the familiar smell of kitchen smoke and sandalwood soap. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too.” His arms tightened briefly. “He’s a good one. Don’t mess it up.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
They didn’t speak until they were in the car, pulling away from the restaurant. Ava watched her parents in the side mirror, her mother waving, her father’s arm around her shoulders, until they turned the corner and disappeared.
She lasted three blocks.
“What did she whisper?”
