Angela's mind had been too muddled the whole day while waiting for the afternoon to roll by. Because Gael was busy during the day doing…mafia stuff in his office, she was left to her thoughts, and she couldn't help but mull over all the entries she read in her little diary yesterday. He did, however, offer to talk about the things she read, but she told him she was fine, knowing that he already had too much on his plate.

But she wasn't actually fine…not quite. There wasn't much about her mother's infidelity in her diary except for the last entry. However, it brought back so many memories about her family when they were still complete—before her mother just up and left like she was only visiting their mansion and had to go back to where she came from.

Angela was also reminded of how upset she was while writing that last entry about seeing her mother kiss another man. Mr. IV. Who was he anyway? She remembered his face, but all she knew was that he was her mother's editor, strangely reminded that he had a thick accent. And then the other night, she also dreamt about the past when she heard and saw her parents fighting. And on that very same day, her mother left.

The dark clouds loomed over her, threatening to pour a big and cold rain—the same heavy drops that hit her head that day she chased her mother under the thunderstorm. Painful, heavy knocking of rain on her head.

She wrung her hands together as she sat in the backseat of the Escalade, nervous about the destination they were headed. Gael placed a hand over her shaking ones, reminding her that she had nothing to be scared about and that he would stay with her the entire time.

He managed to calm her down, and she smiled at him, but she couldn't stop feeling that something ominous was about to happen.

As they approached the restaurant, Gael's guards were the first ones who got out and made a quick sweep around the restaurant. Whispering Bamboo was located somewhere in Manhattan's upper east side, a posh neighborhood in the borough. The backseat's door opened, and Gael came out before he turned around to help her.

Just as her feet landed, one of the guards strode towards him and whispered in his ear, "Boss, the place is crawling with Russian guards. The same ones from the library the other day."

Gael's brows furrowed in shock, gears turning in his head as he turned to look at Angela. He believed in fate, but coincidences like this? That's a different thing—and one he didn't like. There were Russian guards back at the library and in this restaurant too. He had a bad feeling that they had something to do with Angela's mother.

Feeling protective, his grip on her waist tightened, causing her to look up at him. She must have seen the expression on his face because now, hers changed into worry when she asked, "What is it?"

Gael contemplated telling her, especially since he had no solid evidence yet. And as though to answer his doubts, a man in a black suit with sunglasses on—not one of his men—stepped out of the restaurant and headed towards them. Gael's guards—one of them being Trigger—immediately slid to block the stranger's path, not allowing the man to come near their boss's space. There was a good two meters gap between them and the stranger when he respectfully stopped and addressed Gael.

"Good afternoon, Mr. De Luca."

Gael merely glared at the man, sensing that he had seen the stranger's face before but not quite remembering where. Then the man turned to Angela.

"Miss Su. Your mother is waiting for you," said the man, his Rs rolling beneath his accent.

Angela couldn't mask the surprised look on her face when the stranger addressed her. She looked up at Gael again, her eyes laced with questions that she couldn't seem to voice out.

Before they could respond, the stranger with the thick accent turned around and headed back inside the restaurant. Gael didn't like where this was headed at all. He had the urge to call everything off and guide Angela back into the car and drive far away from this restaurant. Being around the danger of his family's underworld business was already too much for Angela. Even if his family worked with the Russians, he never wanted to bring her anywhere near these people.

"Gael…" she called hesitantly.

Letting out a sigh, Gael decided to push through today's meeting with her mother. But on the first sign of danger, he would toss Angela over his shoulder and leave the fuck out of here. It didn't matter that his family had ties with the Russians. Angela was his priority. Consequences be damned.

He waved off his guards, and they made way for him and Angela as he walked her towards the restaurant, his arm still circling on her waist in a tight hold.

"What's going on? How do they know you? Something is happening, isn't it?" she asked. Despite her worries, her tone was calm.

His Angel. His sweet, innocent Angel. If anything happens later, he was ready to kill for her.

The doors opened, and they stepped inside the Asian fine-dining restaurant, the clinking of glasses and utensils filling the background. Gael lowered his voice so that only she could hear as they followed the Russian guard down the hall.

"I think your mother has ties with the Bratva."

Gael's jaw ticked as his gaze stilled at the Russian guard who stopped at the end of the hall where two more guards stood outside of a private dining room. Who knows what traps were behind that door?

No. Even if Angela's mother were with the Russians, she wouldn't do anything to hurt her daughter. Would she? The woman might have left her family years ago, but the look of longing in her eyes back at the library told him that she still cared about her daughter.

Angela's brows drew together. "The w-what?"

"Bratva." Gael looked her in the eye. "The Russian mafia."

Her eyes nearly bugged out as her mouth hung open. She scanned around and saw the Russian guards ahead of them, and she shuddered as she realized the situation they were in.

Gael's men stood guard outside of the door as well, opposite the Russians, while keeping their distance. The Russian guard who greeted them outside the restaurant pushed the door open and stepped aside for them.

Inside the private room was a long white table that could seat ten people. It was filled with purple centerpieces and candles. Gael was slightly relieved to see the room nearly empty except for one person at the head of the table. There sat a woman whom they saw from the library—Angela's mother. She rose up from her seat, and a smile graced her lips as she walked over to them.

"Kylie…"

They had just entered the private room, and Angela stiffened in place upon laying her eyes at her mother. She lightly stepped back and pressed into Gael's side as if not wanting to get close to the woman. The latter paused, noticing her daughter's recoil.

The older woman's expression morphed from being briefly hurt into a neutral one as if she put a mask on her face. Then she turned to face Gael and greeted, "Good day to you, Mr. De Luca."

Gael grew tense at the fact that they knew him, but he had no idea who this woman was—aside from being Angela's mother. Fuck. He hadn't seen her with the Russians before. And not knowing made his muscles coil.

And then…a sudden thought flashed in his head, some latches clicking into place the more he stared at the woman.

Before realizing it, Gael had already muttered in a cold, hard voice, "Mrs. Volkov."