Seeds of Doubt
Cracking his neck produced a low, grinding sound. His body still hadn’t fully loosened up, so Duhan reached back and massaged the spot he had just turned.
“Stubborn bastards. They’ve bred so many pups it’s nothing but a damn hassle.”
The moment he set foot in Hong Kong, Duhan understood exactly why Tezman had sent him. Ye Wumen was carving out territories across the city and steadily building his forces.
“The Chenpu boss must be getting senile in his old age. How hard is it to control one son? Tsk.”
He couldn’t comprehend the Chenpu boss’s behavior—openly watching as Ye Wumen declared his intent to seize his father’s seat, yet doing nothing while the man expanded his power.
Of course, it wasn’t the Pavard Family’s problem. But Ye Wumen kept meddling in their affairs, now even eyeing their own territories, and rampaged without distinguishing between personal grudges and business. In the end, the cleanup fell to the Pavard Family.
After Tezman had destroyed one of Ye Wumen’s factories in the Golden Triangle, the man was already frothing with venom. Now that Duhan had gone and turned the brand-new Hong Kong factory—built with Ye Wumen’s blood and sweat—into a smoking ruin, there was no telling how much worse his rampage would become.
Before the bastard could even think about striking at the Pavard Family, Duhan had launched a full-scale purge of the Chenpu remnants. He cut them out by the roots. He refused to let these vermin burden Tezman with any more worries. That was how deep Duhan’s loyalty ran.
Having eradicated even the last of Ye Wumen’s informants in Hong Kong, Duhan wiped the blood from his cheek. He looked down at the corpses littering the floor of the derelict factory and let out a low, meaningful laugh.
This should keep Ye Wumen quiet for a while. Or rather, it would force him to tread carefully. If he didn’t, the next neck Duhan severed wouldn’t belong to some underling—it would be Ye Wumen’s own.
After a proper fight for the first time in ages, Duhan dialed Tezman to report in. He wanted to brag about how cleanly he had finished the job, but the phone rang and rang without answer. It didn’t matter. The work was done; he simply needed to head home.
And so the day came when Duhan returned to Italy and arrived back at the estate.
Humming to himself as he entered the mansion, Duhan’s eyes narrowed. The garden had been completely transformed. A new path of strange flagstones now branched out from the small fountain at its center.
Under normal circumstances, Duhan would have shrugged it off and kept walking. But an odd instinct rooted him in place. He followed the stone path and found the old greenhouse where they had once cultivated poppies. The problem was that the ancient structure now looked as pristine as if it had been built yesterday. He was still staring at the riot of blooming flowers around it, thinking how strange it all was, when—
His phone vibrated. The name glowing on the screen made him spin on his heel, abandoning his path toward the greenhouse.
“Tezman-nim. I was just about to head up. I’ll meet you in the study.”
After ending the call, Duhan continued on, still humming under his breath.
“Duhan.”
The moment he stepped inside the mansion, Cact spotted him and called out. The genuine warmth in the older man’s voice made Duhan brighten as well.
“Cact!”
“Just back from Hong Kong? You must be exhausted.”
“Nah, it was nothing. Finally got to stretch my muscles properly after so long. I feel great.”
Grinning from ear to ear, Duhan added, “I need to see Tezman-nim. Time to collect some well-deserved praise.”
“Go on, then.”
Duhan strode past Cact, but his steps halted outside the study door. Though Duhan bowed to neither age nor gender, there was one man he revered above all others: Tezman.
And the only place where Duhan ever knocked politely was outside this very door.
“Come in.”
At the sound of Tezman’s voice, Duhan’s face lit up. He flung the door open wide.
“Tezman-nim!”
Seeing Duhan’s exuberant greeting, Tezman pressed a finger to his lips in a clear signal for silence. Duhan’s brows shot up in confusion for a brief second before sharpening with suspicion.
“Is someone here? Or is Mateo-nim tapping the line again…”
“No.”
Tezman’s low voice filled the quiet study.
“She’s still asleep.”
Asleep? Who? In that instant, Duhan saw it—the gentle curve of Tezman’s eyes, the tender gaze directed toward the bedroom.
Duhan’s own eyes narrowed as he studied his master. Just who was in that bedroom? It was a space even he had never entered. A forbidden sanctuary no one was allowed to trespass upon. If someone now occupied that room, then—
No way.
“Is someone in the bedroom?”
Tezman gave a small nod.
“Sua is sleeping.”
“Sua… You mean that Asian nun?”
Instead of answering, Tezman kept his gaze fixed on the bedroom door. Duhan’s jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached.
Sua. Ha. Sua. He remembered that cursed name. While he had been in Hong Kong cleaning up garbage, that Asian nun had wormed her way into this mansion.
What the hell had Cact and Leroy been doing? Rage boiled up inside him.
“Duhan.”
The steel in Tezman’s voice snapped him out of it. Apparently his master had called his name more than once.
“My apologies.”
“So. The situation in Hong Kong?”
“Everything’s been handled. Spotless.”
“Good work.”
Tezman jerked his chin toward the door. Duhan bowed and turned to leave. He couldn’t ask why Sua was here—not right now. As he stepped out of the study, his expression was murderous. The next boss of the Pavard Family had to be Tezman, the man he served. Wasn’t he out there rolling in the dirt like a dog precisely to make that happen?
A boss had no need for love. To surpass Mateo, Tezman needed a woman who could lend him real power. Not some worthless Asian nun.
“Duhan.”
Duhan’s eyes slid sideways, locking onto Leroy as the man approached. His glare was sharp enough to cut.
“Some of us just got back from working our asses off.”
With long, aggressive strides, Duhan closed the distance and seized Leroy by the throat.
“Urk!”
“I come home to this kind of dogshit situation?”
Staring coldly at Leroy’s rapidly reddening face, Duhan snarled, “That damn nun is living here now? Why the hell didn’t you stop her, Leroy?”
Leroy twisted free of the iron grip on his neck.
“Ha—what the hell do you think you’re doing, Duhan?”
“That’s my question. Are you trying to sabotage Tezman-nim’s path to becoming the next boss?”
Leroy’s face went icy. “What are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said. If that’s not it, then why is a nun living in this mansion?”
Only then did Leroy seem to understand the reason for the outburst. He let out a heavy sigh.
“Her presence here has nothing to do with the succession.”
“Nothing to do with it? You really think you can say that with a straight face?”
“Lower your voice, Duhan.”
Duhan clenched his fists until the knuckles cracked. “Does it look like I can lower it? What about the Godmother? Have you forgotten how much she despises Asian women?”
The Godmother—Michele’s wife and Mateo’s mother. Her revulsion was only natural. After all, she had been the one who, after witnessing the atrocities of Tezman’s biological mother, ultimately ordered the woman killed.
Now he understood why Duhan was so worked up. His loyalty to Tezman ran just as deep as Leroy’s own. He would lay down his life without hesitation if Tezman asked it of him.
That was precisely why he wanted Tezman to become the boss of the Pavard Family. He wanted to place him on the throne everyone looked up to. No one was more suited for it than Tezman.
Leroy’s lips pressed into a thin line. As Duhan stared at his silence, the corner of his mouth twisted into a sneer.
“Think carefully, Leroy. For now, you say Mateo-nim and Tezman-nim have joined hands for mutual benefit, but—”
Duhan clapped a hand on Leroy’s shoulder, then leaned in close enough to whisper.
“If Mateo becomes boss, do you really think he’ll leave Tezman-nim alone?”
Watching Leroy’s face harden like ice, Duhan gave a derisive snort.
“Think it over. Carefully.”
With that, Duhan turned and walked away. Left standing alone, Leroy’s expression grew strangely complex.
Mateo and Tezman were in a relationship where it would surprise no one if they eventually killed each other. The only reason they could remain strict business partners was because they both stood beneath Michele, each compensating for the other’s weaknesses as they worked to restore the Pavard Family’s glory.
But if one of them actually became boss?
Leroy shook his head, as if to dispel the thought. Telling himself not to be swayed by Duhan’s needless provocation, he started walking again. Yet in a quiet corner of his heart, a small seed of unease had already taken root.