"Yes, your son killed my fiancé—my betrothed,"
said Mawu Ugan with a calm smile, her voice carrying the rich cadence of Nigeria. She lifted her chin slightly, her poise commanding yet composed, and continued.
"But don't worry. I found out the reason why your son killed him during that attempted assassination. We, the Ugan family, separate business and personal matters very carefully."
Hana Tucker let out a quiet sigh of relief, her shoulders softening, though her eyes remained watchful.
But as Mawu stepped closer, the gentle click of her heels against the marble floor filled the pause. She leaned in toward Hana's ear, her perfume brushing past like a whisper itself.
"Though I am intrigued," Mawu murmured, her tone dropping low, "that such a fine man like Shen Goddem is being wasted on a Monroe Southern Belle who has nothing to offer except a cheap apartment and commoner meals."
Hana stiffened immediately, her breath catching. She knew exactly who Mawu was referring to. Ryona Monroe.
Mawu leaned back gracefully, her smile returning as if nothing venomous had been said.
Her hand came up lightly, squeezing Hana's shoulder with a deliberate firmness that lingered.
"I hope this collaboration goes well," she added smoothly, her eyes glinting.
Then, without waiting for a reply, she turned and drifted away into the crowd. Her gown swept lightly against the polished floor as she moved toward another cluster of guests, her laughter chiming effortlessly as she engaged them in conversation.
Left unsettled, Hana quickly reached for her phone, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she dialed Shen Goddem.
"Shen, where are you?" she whispered anxiously into the receiver.
But instead of Shen's voice, another answered.
"Evening, Ms. Tucker," came the calm, professional tone of Xin Yin Jin, Shen's Chinese secretary.
In the background, the soft clink of porcelain could be heard—Shen drinking his tea while seated in the back of his personnal vehicle.
"Boss is apparently on the way," Xin Yin continued. "In about ten minutes, he should arrive at the gala."
"But… but the Queen is—!" Hana stammered, just as she was about to say something more.
Suddenly, the blaring sound of royal horns filled the gala hall, silencing all chatter. The announcer's voice rose over the music and murmurs, carrying through the grandeur of the ballroom.
"All rise for the Queen of London, Queen Diana, successor of the late Queen Elizabeth II!"
A wave of movement rippled through the hall as everyone stood. Heads turned toward the grand entrance where the Queen had arrived.
She had come—Queen Diana, once the ex-wife of King Charles III. Descending gracefully from her royal carriage, she carried herself with a regal poise that drew every eye.
Outside, the night sky erupted in fireworks. A marching band played triumphantly as a chorus joined in harmony, their voices rising high. Spectators, media, and reporters crowded around, eager to capture every glimpse of the Queen's visit to Malaysia.
Queen Diana walked forward with elegance, her royal gown sweeping across the steps. By her side, her children—no longer young heirs but grown adults—moved with dignity, their presence adding to the gravity of the moment.
As they approached the marble stairs leading to the main hall, Queen Diana slowed her pace. Then, quite suddenly, she stopped.
The crowd murmured in confusion. Whispers spread like wildfire. Who was she searching for?
Her personal butler, dressed in immaculate black and gold, stepped forward with a bow.
"Your Grace, why have you stopped in your tracks?" he asked in a low, respectful tone.
The Queen's eyes scanned the gathered nobility, her gaze sharp yet unreadable. Then she answered softly, her voice carrying enough weight to silence the crowd once more.
"It would not be a gala without him," said Queen Diana.
The words sent a ripple of tension through the hall. Hela Tucker froze where she stood. She had heard the Queen's reply clearly—and so had the Ugans, the Monroes, the Devas, the Rolions, the Qins, the Fas, and the Hons.
All the great families, each household of power and influence, exchanged uneasy glances. Everyone wondered the same thing.
Who was the Queen waiting for?
"Your Grace," said the butler carefully, his voice low and respectful. "Is this individual truly that important?"
"Important?" Queen Diana snapped, her eyes flaring with a ferocity that made the man lower his gaze. Her glare was sharp enough to silence even the murmuring crowd.
"That man—that boy—helped me in my lowest hour," she declared, her voice echoing with memory. "A close acquaintance of mine extended her hand by sending him, her disciple, to my aid."
Her expression softened briefly, touched with remembrance.
"He helped me without ever asking for anything in return. He uncovered Charles' infidelity with Camilla, dismantled rivals, established a fortress in the shadows, and wielded knowledge beyond what Einstein or any so-called genius could ever achieve."
"Hell, he even go to the extend to help me sit on the throne and persuaded late mother-in-law, Queen Elizabeth II into sealing the hieracy decree."
Her words carried weight, each syllable laced with reverence. The butler straightened, his face unreadable, but the crowd leaned in, captivated by her revelation.
"That boy has every right to stand above all. Even if he asked me for immunity, I would grant him lifetime immunity!"
Diana's voice rose with passion, her hand lifting slightly as if sealing a royal decree.
"And his name is—"
Before the Queen could finish, the thunderous chop of rotor blades cut across the night sky.
A helicopter descended slowly, the gusts of wind whipping through gowns and tuxedos, rattling champagne glasses on silver trays.
It landed with precision at the glowing H symbol just outside the gala entrance.
"Ah! That's him!" Diana's eyes lit up with rare excitement as she stepped forward, her gown trailing like a flowing banner.
"Who is it, Your Grace?" asked the butler, shielding his face from the whipping wind.
"Shen Goddem!" she declared, her voice carrying above the roar.
At once, every camera, every lens, every reporter's eye locked onto the helicopter. Lights flashed, microphones tilted, the media surging to capture the first glimpse.
Inside the hall, the great families held their breath. The Tuckers, especially Hela Tucker—the matriarch herself—narrowed her eyes, waiting to see the man the Queen of London had exalted so highly.
The Monroes, the Devas, the Rolions, the Qins, the Fas, the Hons—each household turned their attention, the weight of curiosity thickening the air.
At the far side of the hall, Hela noticed Hana Tucker lingering by the condiment section, casually sampling a piece of golden fried butter tiger prawns while the others were distracted.
"Hana!" Hela hissed sharply, making sure her voice didn't carry over the roar of the crowd. "Come here, quickly!"
Hana set down her teacup and plate with care and rolled her eyes in annoyance, she know full well who is in that helicopter.
She smoothed the front of her gown and walked gracefully across the room. Approaching Ryona and Belle, she dipped her head politely.
"Greetings, you two," she said in a measured tone. "Aren't you going to see him?"
Ryona shook her head, her earrings glinting under the chandeliers, and Belle mirrored the gesture.
"No,"
Ryona replied firmly, her voice steady.
"We're waiting for my husband—the one you, Aunt Hana, arranged for me in marriage. Besides,"
her lips curved into the faintest smile,
"between Zac Tucker and Shen, I'd choose Shen any day, any time, in any life."
Hana's lips curled into a knowing smile, her eyes softening as she studied Ryona's expression. She could see it clearly now—how deeply Ryona's heart was tied to Shen Goddem.
"Well then," Hana said gently, her voice carrying both challenge and encouragement. "Go ahead and see for yourself, Ryona."
The helicopter doors slid open with a metallic hiss, and from the cabin leapt two ferocious white lions.
Their roars thundered across the gala grounds, making the crowd reel back in awe and fear.
Mawu Ugan's eyes widened in shock. She recognized them instantly—her former pets, the very same beasts that had betrayed her only two months earlier. Her lips tightened, a mixture of anger and disbelief flashing across her face.
Beyond the gates, the mass of citizens surged wildly. Some screamed, others fainted, and many shouted his name, desperate for even the briefest glimpse of the man they revered.
"ABANG!!!"
"TA GE!!!"
"THALAPATHY!!!"
The frenzy intensified when the polished edge of a shoe appeared in the doorway. The crowd erupted as though the world itself had shifted.
The very ground trembled with his presence—his single step alone shaking the air like a silent drumbeat.
The rumble of excitement grew unbearable. Even the police and security forces struggled desperately, forming human barricades, trying their very best to contain the roaring tide of bodies pressing against the gates.
Far away, in a prison cell in Sabah, the sound carried through television screens and radios. The inmates erupted into cheers, banging against the bars, their voices rising as one.
Zac Tucker sat slouched in the corner, his face dark. "The fuck are you retards even cheering for?!" he barked, his voice dripping with bitterness.
"Shut up, pussy!" one of the inmates snapped back, his grin wild.
"Shen Goddem has made his appearance in public—finally, after so long!"
Another prisoner leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Shen Goddem? As in the founder of the Black Dragon Group? The MNC trading empire?!"
Zac froze mid-breath, his anger slipping into disbelief. He pushed forward to the bars, catching a glimpse of the figure stepping into the lights. His eyes widened in stunned recognition.
Back at the gala, the man himself emerged.
Shen Goddem.
He descended from the helicopter in a suit as black as midnight, the fabric finely detailed, tailored to perfection.
Draped over his shoulders was a trench coat adorned with gold buttons, each one gleaming under the flash of cameras.
Pinned to his chest was a black diamond dragon—its twin eyes glittering with rare blood diamonds, etched into his suit as the unmistakable emblem of his empire: the Black Dragon Group.
The flashing bulbs of countless cameras assaulted him, an endless storm of light. Infinite flickers captured the way he walked, the way he carried himself—swaggering like a mobstar, exuding untouchable dominance with every step.
An Indian-Malaysian man, and yet the talk of the planet itself.
He strode confidently forward, the lions padding at his side like silent sentinels. The crowd split for him as though commanded by some unseen force, until at last he stood before Queen Diana.
"Boy," the Queen greeted with a smile touched by familiarity.
"Your Grace," Shen replied, bowing his head as he extended her hand and pressed a kiss to it with gentlemanly precision.
"Oh, Shen, there's no need for such formality," Diana said warmly, her regal tone softening. "Your family to us, child."
"As you see fit, milady," Shen answered with a faint smile. "But may I also invite my wife, and her mother, to your presence?"
"Of course," Diana said without hesitation, her voice ringing with approval.
With a subtle wave, Shen Goddem gestured toward Ryona Monroe—his wife—and Belle Monroe, her mother. The spotlight swung toward them, and the crowd parted once more.
Ryona stood frozen, her eyes wide, her heart hammering in disbelief. She was struck not only by Shen's commanding presence, but also by the woman who stepped elegantly beside him.
Xin Yin Jin.
His secretary.
Clad in an exquisite black gown, her divine figure in her thirties radiated grace and allure.
Her beauty was sharp, commanding yet understated, and as she moved to Shen's side, it became clear—she was more than just a shadow at his back.
Shen gestured subtly toward Xin Yin Jin. She inclined her head in understanding and stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the marble as she approached Ryona.
"Hello, Ms. Ryona,"
Xin Yin said politely, her voice calm yet carrying a teasing undertone.
"This is our first time meeting in person. But I suppose that rooftop view from your apartment gave you every right to be suspicious."
Her words carried a quiet memory—of the night, two months earlier, when Ryona had glimpsed Shen slipping into a black sedan under the shadows, secretly leaving to confront Mawu Ugan.
Xin Yin's lips curved into a faint, sly smile.
"Rest assured, I am nothing but a mere secretary. True, I too have feelings for my boss. But respectfully, I hope you don't take it as a competition."
Her playful tone lingered in the air like a spark.
Ryona chuckled softly, her eyes narrowing with amusement as she extended her hand. Their palms met in a firm shake, both women testing the other's resolve in silence.
"Likewise,"
Ryona said, her smile unwavering.
"But let's be clear. He's mine, Ms. Yin Jin."
Two striking women—both full-bosomed, both radiant in their own right—standing face to face, teasing and testing each other over Shen Goddem. One a Southern belle, the other a Chinese beauty.
Lucky bastard.
Across the gala, the reactions rippled like a storm.
Hela Tucker and the rest of the Tucker family stood frozen in shock. The Monroes exchanged uneasy glances, knowing the weight of what this revelation meant for them. Foni trembled, her voice barely above a whisper.
"How… how could Belle, my oldest sister, have a son-in-law like Shen Goddem?"
And then the truth broke through, sharp as lightning.
"Shen Tucker… was Shen Goddem…?"
Gasps spread. The weight of his identity settled heavily on the hall.
Shen Goddem scanned the crowd with a slow, deliberate gaze, his eyes lingering on each family—Tuckers, Monroes, Ugans, Devas, Rolions, Qins, Fas, Hons. His lips curled into a smirk, cold and knowing.
This time, the debt would be paid.
Payback—a trillion folds.
---
Chapter 17 — End