Chapter 1

July 21st, 1992

Beijing, China

11:23am

A taxi cab made its way through the busy streets of Beijing, heading deeper and deeper into the massive city. After many streets and intersections, and the many pauses in traffic it made, it stopped in front of a towering skyscraper. The passenger exited the cab, a thin, young woman of 19 years with shoulder length raven black hair tied loosely in a ponytail. She paid the driver her fare from a skimpy wallet, then cinched a small backpack up on her shoulders.

She stood before the building at the edge of the busy sidewalk, butterflies flitting about in her stomach as she looked up with tired, jet lagged eyes. It had been so long since she had seen him last...and here she was, coming out of the blue, asking for help no less. What was he going to say? It was going to be awkward...very awkward, that was for sure. She almost didn't want to be there, but it was her very last hope. And besides, there was no going back now. What little she had left was with her at the moment: jeans, red tank top, a small, second hand backpack with some spare accessories, and barely 300 yuan. Most of her cash went with the cab and the flight.

She hooked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stepped forward with the intent of leaving her nerves behind, promptly bumping into a pedestrian passing by her. Her face flushed red, and she let out a string of apologies in nervous Mandarin with a heavy Western accent. The older man assured her that it was no problem, and smiled at the pretty young woman before going on his way.

The woman made her way through the people, being careful not to collide with anyone else, and entered the doors to the skyscraper. The lobby was sprawling, well lit, and full of people going about their business. It was one of the largest financial businesses in China, and one of the biggest in the world. It almost rivaled Umbrella, which had dominated just about everything for as long as she could remember. Just being inside of it and what it represented made her nervous.

She navigated her way through the lobby and past the first floor bank until she found the reception area. Swallowing her nerves deeper inside of her, she approached the first open receptionist, and middle aged woman who was just hanging up the phone.

"Um, hello," she said in Mandarin, "I'm here to see someone."

The receptionist at the desk smiled politely enough, but the woman saw that she looked at her young, average self amidst the professionals with an air of contempt. "Very well. Who is it you would like to see, and when is your appointment?"

"Um..." she replied, hooking another strand behind her ear nervously. "I don't exactly have an appointment."

The woman's smile turned into an irritated frown. "But all meetings must be planned in advance. I cannot let you see anyone unless you are scheduled." The receptionist's frown remained, but nonetheless, she continued to do her job. "Perhaps I could arrange an appointment for you now?"

"I...it's sort of important. I need to see Lei Wong."

The receptionist consulted a computer after a few seconds of typing. "Mr. Wong is very busy. I'm afraid his next available time for a meeting is two weeks from now, on Tuesday the-"

"Look," the woman interrupted. "Can you...can you call him, or his secretary....and tell him something for me?"

The receptionist sighed tiredly at the woman and the line forming behind her. "What shall I tell him?"

The woman leaned forward, then almost whispered to her. "Tell him his daughter needs his help. His daughter Ada."

15 minutes later, escorted by a single security guard, the woman, Ada, found herself on the 61st floor, one of the executive levels, and the floor of her father's office. The guard escorted her to the big double doors with the name Lei Wong printed on it in gold letters. She barely had enough time to gather herself before he opened the door and ushered her in.

He stood behind his desk in a spacious office, overlooking the city through a wall of glass. She almost didn't recognize his powerful figure, but instantly remembered that air of dominance around him. He was tall for a man of his race, with hair and eyes the exact same color as hers. Even more intimidating was the flawless linen suit that he wore, completely black in color.

Behind her, the guard closed the door. It was just the two of them, alone. For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence between. They seemed to stretch to minutes in her mind. But she worked up the strength and cleared her throat.

"Hi, Dad," she said softly.

"Hello, Ada," he replied formally, as if she had just introduced herself. It had been so long, they may as well have introduced each other.

There was another uneasy gap between them. Ada thought she had developed a plan to present herself, but it had all vanished upon seeing her father again. He seemed equally taken aback, though he didn't appear to be as nervous as her. Quite the opposite, in fact. She wished she could be the same way, to hide her uncertainty. Better yet, to do away with it, to always be in control of herself.

"I was unaware that you spoke Mandarin," her father said casually, almost conversationally. "I didn't know that you learned it."

"Mom wanted me to," she replied, with a sudden twitch of her brow. "For when I talked to you."

Silence.

"Would you care to explain why you suddenly appear in my building today with no warning whatsoever?"

Ada shifted her head down to look at the toes of her worn sneakers. The reason had been haunting her for 2 weeks, ever since she left America. It was why she'd gotten less and less sleep, and the little she did get often ended with her crying herself to sleep. She prayed to God that she wouldn't break down in front of him.

"Mom...passed away...about two weeks ago."

Pause. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said in a tone that clearly meant the opposite.

At that moment, Ada's face screwed up. The memory of the sudden death of her mother almost drove her to tears. But she held herself, and her features relaxed. It was going to be hard, but she could overcome it. The only thing that manifested was a hard sniff from her nose as she looked back to her father with determination.

"She never hated you. She...understood how you felt, which is why she never asked for anything after the divorce. She just wanted everyone to be happy."

Wong looked away briefly, but his expression stayed neutral. "I don't suppose you are here to make amends. You still haven't answered my question, Ada. Why are you here?"

"I..."she started, then faltered. She gave her head a brief shake. "I need your help," she finished shakily.

Wong smirked and gave a small, airy chuckle. "I see what this is about," he said, almost triumphantly as he made his way around his desk, then leaned on the front of it. "You want money."

"No!" she exclaimed, taking a few steps forward, "It's not like that!"

But sugarcoat it as she might try, that's what it boiled down to: money. Life had very cruelly backed her into a corner. Her father already suspected that, and he didn't seem to care. In fact, he almost seemed anxious.

"Then what is it about?" he asked.

"It's...well, you're right," she admitted in defeat. "I need money. But I'm not asking you for a free ride! It's just that...things came up and-"

"Has it occurred to you to get a job, rather than asking me for a handout?" her father interrupted. "I haven't seen you in over a decade, let alone talked to you over the phone."

"I tried!" Once again, she was on the verge of tears, though now it was fear, building on the previous sorrow. "I'm almost destitute. I was evicted three days ago. The last of my college fund went into the bills and the apartment. No one will hire someone without an education. I barely had enough to get a cheap flight here!" Her eyes widen, shimmering around the corners. "Dad, I don't even have a place to sleep anymore!"

"And so to dig yourself out of the hole you and your mother had been so happily making for yourselves, you come to me as a last resort," her father said coldly. "Not before, when the signs were all around. Rather than do something productive with what you had, you wasted it all to come here in person. You know, I'm not surprised. Elena never really was the one to think ahead. I should have thought about that before I married her."

"How can you say that about her?!" Ada cried, aghast. "Was she just an inconvenience to you? Didn't you love her at all?"

"Tell me," he said dryly, almost as if he was acting interested to humor her. "How did she die? Did she get the heroic death she wanted as a police officer, doing what she thought was right?"

Ada sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "No. I don't know how she died. No one does. One morning, I just woke up and...and...she was gone."

She never did learn what killed Elena Wong. It baffled the doctors how a seemingly healthy woman suddenly died in her sleep. Some suspected a sudden heart attack, while others theorized some illness that was hidden from the daughter. Ada, already being low on cash, had to settle for never knowing, unable to afford the tests. All that was left to do was to give her mother a quiet, inexpensive funeral.

"Dad..." Ada said softly, pressing her hands over her eyes, trying to regain her composure from the world as it spiraled out of her control. When she lowered them, they still sparkled with water. "Please...I'm coming to as your daughter, as your own flesh and blood. I've never hated you, I've never held anything against you. You made Mom happy, and for that, I love you." She took a few steps forward, closer to him. "Please...I'm scared, and I don't know what to do..."

Wong pushed himself off of his desk, then closed the distance between them. His face had finally broken neutrality, though it hadn't softened, as she had hoped. It almost grew colder. He leaned in slightly, looking his daughter in the eye, who apprehensively leaned back.

"Do you think that you are the only one with problems, Ada? Do you think it would be easy for me to just hand you money, as if I came by it easily?" He suddenly gripped her wrist in an iron hold. She gasped, then quivering, shook her head. "Do you think that you are alone in your struggle for life, and that I have no problems myself? Every day, Umbrella threatens to consume my company. But I don't run crying for pity from others!" He almost snapped the last words in her face, jerking her wrist a little harder. He leaned in even closer. "Did I ever tell you, Ada, that I never wanted children?"

A strangled gasp cut short in her throat. Ada felt as if she had stopped breathing, yet her heart still pounded hard from her emotions. Not even he could say something like that, no one could be that cruel! No, he couldn't say it...if he did, she wouldn't be able to hold it in anymore.

"I never wanted a little girl. I never wanted a daughter. And I certainly never wanted that daughter to haul her pathetic self halfway around the world to beg me to bail her out when life dealt her a bad hand. You, my dear daughter, were a mistake."

With that, he released her wrist with a fling of his hand. The tears started to flow, bursting free from the dam that had been holding them back for so long. Like rivers, they fell down her cheeks and collected on her chin, where they fell, only to be replaced by more. Ada let out a choking sob, then another before breaking down entirely.

"You were just a mistake in my life, one small mistake," her father continued. "But unlike my real life problems, you're not one that I have to deal with."

The next thing she knew, her palm struck him across his face in an ear ringing slap that turned his head. In that one instant, rage broke through her features, her lip curled into a snarl. He jerked, putting a hand to the offended spot, then turned and struck her in retaliation with the back of his hand. Ada cried out and tumbled to the expensive carpet as the side of her face blossomed in pain. She know she should feel anger, but all of it was drowning in the sea of her hopelessness. She'd been abandoned by everyone.

She heard her father's voice, further away, from behind his desk speaking sternly into an intercom. "Call security. Have them escort this woman out."

Feeling beaten and worthless, she lay sobbing, huddled at the foot of her father's desk until hands gripped her arms and hauled her to her feet. Two guards had entered, and now began to literally drag her towards the door. She wanted to fight, to break free and attack her father, but nothing could free her from the grip of incapacitating sorrow. To the guards, she was nothing more than a limp rag doll that hung its head and cried, dragging her feet behind them.

"Make sure she is removed from the building," her father said as he sat down behind his desk to resume work, "and make extra sure she does not return."