Mother, would you like some help standing up? The floor might still be a bit damp, Ethan’s voice broke the frozen silence of the kitchen. Martha Thorne did not immediately reach for the outstretched hand. She stared at Ethan’s palm—the same hand that held the fate of every businessman in this city—with a gaze that was nearly vacant. The terror of the previous night had not yet fully faded, and Ethan’s words about cleaning up the Wang family’s trash made her feel like a mouse being watched by an eagle. No—don’t... I can do it myself, Martha stammered. She crawled upward with the last of her strength, her hands gripping the edge of the dining table to keep from falling back down. She looked at Ethan with trembling lips. Why, Ethan? Why don’t you just leave? You could have everything, yet her
