Page 71 of Billionaire’s Cruelty

“Her name.”

“I’ll be right back.” The young man disappeared through a door behind the bar.

I studied her from head to toe. She was dressed like a celebrity attending the Oscars—impeccably styled and undoubtedly expensive. I couldn’t pinpoint the designer, but I had shopped enough to recognize high-end craftmanship. Her jewelry was understated—a few simple diamond pieces—but the cut and clarity suggested they were far from cheap.

She was doing well for herself.

Was any of her lifestyle funded by me? By the ransom from kidnapping a young boy?

Calm down, I warned myself. There was no proof she had anything to do with it. If she had, the police would have charged her back then. But my mother had been convinced Auntie Five was involved.

Can’t trust her.

The thought slithered through my mind. But who couldn’t I trust—this woman, or my mother?

“That’s Ms. Wu,” the waiter said, returning with my whiskey. “She comes to these parties all the time—always drinks until she blacks out.”

“You didn’t already know that she’s a regular?”

“Nah, I just started last week. Dropped out of college.” He shrugged.

“You don’t work for… the host?” I lowered my voice, unwilling to say Dannie’s name aloud.

“Mr. Wu? Yes and no. I work for the hotel, not him.”

“Doesn’t he own the hotel?”

“I heard he part-owns it. Apparently, his partner runs the day-to-day stuff.”

That made sense. Someone like Dannie—head of a criminal organization—wouldn’t waste time managing a hotel.

“What else do you know about her?” I pressed. As much as I wanted intel on Dannie, this kid wasn’t the person to ask.

He hesitated, then said, “I asked around, but no one really knows who she is. Just that she’s important, and no one ever stops her from coming in. My only job is to give her whatever she wants to keep her happy.”

“Thanks.”

“Anything else, sir?”

“No.”

Ms. Wu.

Now I remembered why I called her Auntie Five. Her surname, Wu, sounded like the number five in Chinese. When I was a kid, the adults laughed and loved the nickname I’d given her.

Who was she to Dannie? Were they related?

I briefly considered offering the bartender a side gig—spying on Auntie Five and Dannie for me—but dismissed the idea. I knew nothing about him. Without Dave to run a background check, I was flying blind. I had to find a way to bring Dave back, no matter what.

The young man returned to his post behind the bar. I opened the woman’s handbag and pulled out her phone. It was locked. I patted her face gently and held the device up to her. A faint click let me know the phone had unlocked.

Auntie Five slumped back, her eyes fluttering shut again, utterly unconcerned about what I was doing. I dialed the burner phone Trevon had given me, ensuring I had her number saved for future use. If Dave—or even Clare—were here, they’d already be digging up everything there was to know about her.

I had no proof that her phone number would help me place her later, but I knew one thing: she had status here. Enough to come and go as she pleased.

“Who are you?” Her voice was hoarse as she propped herself up on the side of the chair, blinking rapidly like the dim lighting hurt her eyes.

“Ms. Wu, are you okay? You fainted.”