“I must admit,” Mr. Kang begins once we are alone, “I was surprised by your invitation, Mr. Varela. Our organizations have not historically found much common ground.”
“Circumstances change,” Nico replies smoothly, relaxing into his chair. “Moretti’s recent aggression creates unusual alliances.”
Mr. Kang nods, a thoughtful, almost imperceptible movement. “And you believe my associates and I can help with this situation?”
“I believe we can help each other,” Nico corrects. He leans forward slightly, a subtle shift that commands the entire room’s attention. “Your shipping consortium has been experiencing... difficulties at certain ports. Unexpected inspections. Delayed clearances. Particularly for shipments originating from Busan.”
Mr. Kang’s expression remains a mask of politeness. “You are well-informed.”
“I make it my business to be.” Nico lets the statement breathe for a beat. “I can ensure smoother processing of your containers. In exchange, I need information about a particular operation that has recently come to my attention.”
“And what operation would that be?”
“One involving pharmaceutical ingredients,” Nico says, his voice dropping slightly, “moving through the NK Pharma Consolidated network.”
The name shocks me.NK Pharma.The logo from the folder in my mother’s office. The room seems to tilt, the quiet hum of thehotel fading to a dull roar in my ears. I force myself to remain still, to breathe, my face a carefully blank canvas.
“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that entity,” Mr. Kang says, his voice a perfect study in polite denial.
“I think you are,” Nico counters. “Just as I think you’re aware of Professor Song’s role in establishing that network.”
Mr. Kang’s eyes flick to me, then back to Nico, a silent accusation in his gaze. “This seems an inappropriate conversation to have in front of the professor’s daughter.”
“On the contrary.” Nico’s voice is silk over steel. “Ms. Song is fully aware of her mother’s activities.” He pauses, and then he makes his move. His hand covers mine on the table, a gesture that looks intimate, protective. But I feel the truth of it. The slight, possessive squeeze, the way his thumb presses into my pulse point. It isn’t a gesture of affection. It’s a brand. He continues, his voice smooth as poison. “In fact, she’s helped me understand the scope of the operation.”
The lie lands, and in that instant, I am no longer a journalist, no longer a companion, no longer even a captive. I am a prop. A piece of evidence. A human bargaining chip deployed with devastating precision. The anger that surges through me is so hot, so pure, it almost makes me gasp.
And he’s done it before.
The memory flashes, sharp and bitter: the dim restaurant corridor, the terrified face of the contractor, Thomas Abernathy, pinned against the wall by Nico’s presence. And Nico’s voice, using my name as a weapon then, too.Ms. Song was just wondering...
This isn’t a new tactic. This is his signature. He takes my identity, my very presence, and forges it into a key for a door he wants to unlock. The humiliation is a physical thing, a burning in my throat, a coiling in my gut. I want to scream, stand up and expose him for the calculating bastard he is, right here, in front of this man he’s trying to intimidate.
But I can’t. I am trapped. The realization is as cold and hard as the ice in my water glass.
Mr. Kang’s sharp eyes try to pierce my facade. “Is this true, Ms. Song? You’ve chosen to align yourself with Mr. Varela against your own mother?”
Nico’s thumb presses harder against my pulse. A warning. A command. Play your part.
“My mother and I have... different perspectives on certain matters,” I say, my voice a marvel of calm control. “I believe in transparency.”
Transparency!A perfect, ambiguous blade. It could mean anything. It confirms nothing.
Mr. Kang seems to accept this. He turns back to Nico, a new, grudging respect in his eyes. “What exactly are you proposing, Mr. Varela?”
“A simple exchange. You provide me with the complete shipping schedule for the next three NK Pharma Consolidated shipments. The contents, routes, and final destinations. In return, I ensure your legitimate shipping operations proceed without further interference.”
“And if I decline?”
Nico smiles, a cold, elegant expression. “Then I can’t guarantee the safety of your containers. Particularly those carrying sensitive electronics from Incheon. It would be a shame if the complex logistics of those shipments... became a subject of interest for federal regulators. They can be so... thorough.”
The threat delivered with such polite venom is breathtaking. Mr. Kang takes a slow sip of water, his mask of composure finally cracking.
“I will need to consult with my associates,” he says finally.
“Of course,” Nico replies, leaning back in his chair, the victor. “You have until tomorrow evening.”
The rest of the lunch is a blur of meaningless small talk. I am a ghost at the table, my mind replaying Nico’s brutal, brilliant move.
