The resort.
The completely built structure of the main resort had been torn down as demanded by the Department of Housing and Urban Development. Six months of time and money were down the drain. What more was that the deadline to complete first phrase of the resort was fast approaching and they have yet to gather enough funds to begin construction again.
But there was still hope. Her husband was diligently bringing in new investors.
Once built, the resort would be able to accommodate more than five thousand guests. The facilities would range from spa and sauna to paintball, tennis, golf, and swimming. Within the plans were also an enormous high-end shopping center, a multi-cultural museum, and a rare exhibit zoo. Tourism would never look at Hong Kong the same again. Neither would the rest of the world. And most of all, the survival of Chung Enterprises depended on it.
The beep of the intercom brought Gillian to her desk. The dark gray knee-length dress and black pumps emphasized her slender figure while the sleep ponytail drew attention to her beautiful facial structure. On the outside, she looked confident and impassive. But the telltale sign of her arms tightly wrapped around her rib cage told otherwise.
"Yes?" She spoke into the intercom.
"Mrs. Chen, Mr. Law of Hsuan Corp. is on the phone for you," her assistant replied.
"Send his call through."
When the light on her office phone blinked, she pushed the button for speakerphone and took her seat. "Uncle Law?"
A smooth masculine voice greeted her.
Her memories of the tall savvy Gallen Law had always been fond. Having been her father's right-hand man for over fifteen years, he spoiled her brother and herself as much as any blood relation. And gave as much to Chung Enterprises as her father. It was only ten years ago that the conformed bachelor finally looked out from his forest of female companions and found the woman that captured his heart, Jessica Hsuan of Hsuan Corp, a rival company. After their marriage, Gallen at the insistence of his new in-laws resigned from Chung Enterprises and joined Hsuan Corp. But despite the change, the friendship between Gallen Law and her family continued.
Her heart felt an anxious tug while the words left her lips. "Uncle Law I thought you were still on vacation. Has there been a problem?"
"Actually there is. And I've been trying to reach your father all last night but only got his voicemail."
"Father hasn't been entirely himself lately," she said unworried of speaking honestly. Her mother's confession that afternoon weeks ago had wounded her father. Rather than slaving over the company as he always had, his new obsession was alcohol. Just last night, she found him drunk in the den. "What is the problem?"
"I kind of had a feeling something was wrong. What happened?"
Unable to avoid the subject, Gillian gave him a brief overview deliberately keeping her emotions distant.
"I don't know what to say. I can only imagine how hard your father is taking this. Let me know if there's anything I can do."
"I will. But Uncle Law, back to the reason you called."
"Yes. We've run into a problem. Hsuan Corp.'s board of directors wants to re-evaluate the investment."
"But Mr. Hsuan gave us his word," she gasped, referring to Hsuan Corp.'s chairman and Gallen Law's father-in-law.
"Yes, but rumors of Chung Enterprises' instability have been flooding the grapevines. The board's concerned. I just wanted to call to let you know to be prepared."
And because she already knew he would do his best to help them, she didn't ask. "I understand."
"I also heard that many members on the Chung Enterprises' board is grumbling a lot outside. They might very well take this opportunity to attack your father."
"Ken Tong and Ray Liu have always wanted to overtake father's position as the chairman," she recalled the two men bitterly. "But we won't give them the opportunity."
It was a promise she hoped she would be able to keep.
Hours later, the sun was already well on its way to retirement for the day but in front of her desk, Gillian continued to shift from page to page through large black metal spiral folder, drinking in the finer details of the resort that her brother had called to ask her to check on. Her eyes burned from tiredness but her will and determination fueled by countless cups of coffee pushed forward.
With her brother stationed at the resort site, her husband out meeting with potential investors, and her father more drunk than sober, she alone was left to hold down the fort. Her responsibilities ranged from paper pushing to fending off the press whom were more than ready to tear the company apart with their pens to gain market share.
When familiar melodious ring suddenly sounded off, her hand automatically reached for her cell phone and muttered a greeting while her eyes remained unmoved on the third page of the expense report.
"Vice President of the Chung Enterprises and all I get is an absentminded hello?"
The teasing voice of her husband automatically brought a smile to her lips. For the time being that he was on the other end of the phone, she would forget about the exhaustion eating away at her body and the problems already knocking on their front door. "I would be more tempted to be personable if someone offered to buy me dinner."
She heard his deep chuckle. "You sure know how wheel and deal. Maybe you should be the one out here trying to fish investors instead of me."
It was her turn to chuckle. "Oh, I would be except that would leave you with no purpose. God knows you're more likely to strangle the reporters than pacify them."
Another smile touched her lips as she recalled the infuriated expression on a reporter's face when her husband knocked him down in her defense back when the news broke out that her brother was having marital problems.
The tension in her shoulders was beginning to ease away.
She was about to ask about the results of his meetings when a wave of nausea hit fiercely. Out of instinct her free hand covered her mouth while the hand holding the cell phone let go to reach for the box of tissues across from the desk. It was only after the knot in her throat settled that she noticed the spilled coffee.
A muffle curse escaped while she put the phone back to her ear and heard her husband calling her name.
"I'm sorry. I'm was feeling a bit nauseous before and accidentally dropped the phone," she explained at the same time carefully moving the files on her desk out of harm's way and began patting down the spill.
"How are you feeling now? Any better? Actually, stay put -- I'll be right there."
"No. No. I'm much better now. I probably just drank too much coffee. I'll be alright," then said, changing the topic, "Don't you have a meeting with Adam Cheng soon? He detests tardiness."
"But --"
"No buts. I'll be fine. I'll see you at home tonight."
After exchanging goodbyes, Gillian continued to pat down the coffee. When the last of the coffee had been soaked away she released a slow breath and discovered the silver picture frame in her hand that had been unconsciously picked up during her cleaning.
The eight by six color photograph had been taken on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. In formal satin gowns, her mother and herself stood in a close embrace while her father and brother stood on either side in similar tuxedos.
Her slender finger reached out to the smooth glass surface and traced along soft and elegant features of the woman that gave her life.
Days had stretched into weeks since that afternoon in her father's den. But like the aftermath of a sudden violent storm over a peaceful tropical island, causing trees to fall and landscape to shift. Paradise would never be the same again. Her mother had moved from the Chung home to the Church. While her father drank excessively. The smiles and laughter that once filled the small household and spacious hallways would never be again. The warmth had changed to shock and mourning.
Her mother may not have been behind the wheels that night that Margie Tsang had died, but the woman's blood would forever be on her hands because she had made the choice to drive away leaving the woman to die.
It was a debt.
A debt that could never be erase.
Later than night her car came through the dark metal gates. With the exception of her father's limousine the entire garage was empty, which meant neither her husband nor brother were home yet. As was the routine last few weeks.
"Miss," the jovial housekeeper welcomed her into the house. "Have you eaten yet? Should I prepare dinner?"
The thought of food had brought some tension to her throat and made her quickly dismiss the idea. "No thanks, Mrs. Lo. I'm not hungry."
The housekeeper having taken care of her since birth must have seen through lie. "Are you alright, Miss? You've been looking a bit pale. If you're not hungry how about just some congee?"
Gillian nodded and produced a small smile, unable to reject the concern of the older woman. "Let me take a shower first. I'll be down afterwards."
It was the same type of love and concern that brought her to the den instead of her own room. After two light knocks, she entered the dark room and found her father sprawled behind the large desk where a bottle of liquor laid virtually empty with his eyes opened, looking toward the balcony doors.
"Daddy," she walked closer.
The man in front of her resembled nothing like the father she had always known. Instead of projecting a dignified and immaculate presence, his hair was uncombed; his shirt was half buttoned and not properly tucked.
She kneeled until their heads were leveled. "Daddy."
Words could not describe the helplessness that ate through her at that moment.
"Gillian." He did not look at her.
"Daddy," tears sprang from her eyes and blurred her vision.
"All my life, I've been proud. Proud that I have always been able to think one step ahead of others. Proud that I have been able to keep Chung Enterprises afloat despite all the financial difficulties. But the truth is...I am nothing but a failure. I can't even protect the women by my side. Margie, your mother, even you." His words came out slightly slurred.
"It's not true--"
"It is true. Whether I want to believe it or not, Margie had left me in order to protect me. Even with child, she didn't want to put me in a difficult situation. She loved me so much but never -- never was I able to do anything for her. And your mother, I haven't been a good husband to her. I wanted to hate her for what happened to Margie but in the end, I hate only myself. And you," he finally looked at her for the first time, "I had even sacrifice the happiness of my own daughter to save the company. What kind of father am I?"
The self-accusations torn her heart. "It's not that at all. None of it was your fault. It's fate that should be blamed."
"Fate? Or my own incompetence?"
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