"That Chinese is extremely dangerous. The fall of the Capone group, the collapse of the Mafia Committee, Luciano's defeat, and even the disappearance of Father Johnny—I believe all these events are connected to him," warned the Secretary of State in Washington, advising Purvis to tread carefully.
"Don't provoke him until there's sufficient evidence," he added sternly.
This advice weighed heavily on Purvis, who found himself entangled in a web of power struggles and hidden agendas. Meanwhile, Charlie Lee, a man with an enigmatic smile but eyes as cold as ice, was preparing for his next move.
"Boss, why hand them over to the police?" Lao Huang, for the first time, questioned Charlie Lee's decision.
Lao Huang found the idea absurd. To him, the so-called judicial system was far too lenient. A mere apology and some monetary compensation could erase even the gravest of sins. Moreover, they lacked concrete evidence tying the culprits to the crime.
"Don't worry, Lao Huang. My anger burns no less fiercely than yours," Charlie replied with a cryptic smile, his tone calm yet menacing. He sat by the hospital bed, his gaze fixed on Eric, who lay unconscious. In that moment, a sinister light flickered in Charlie's eyes.
The next day, the FBI intercepted a train bound for Florida, capturing the Thomas family. By afternoon, the family found themselves "protected" in the Chicago branch of the FBI.
For Charlie and Purvis, this so-called protection was simply a way to keep the family contained. Charlie knew that if they were released, his simmering rage might drive him to act in ways he couldn't undo.
Inside the FBI office, Charlie confronted the patriarch, Mr. Thomas, an elderly gentleman with a round belly, a top hat, and a cane.
"Mr. Thomas, what could drive a man to be so cruel to a child under seven?" Charlie's voice carried a deceptive warmth, but his piercing gaze betrayed his true emotions.
Thomas remained composed, responding calmly, "I don't understand what you're implying."
"Believe me, you will soon," Charlie replied, his eyes shifting to young Thomas, who clung to his mother for protection. With a mocking bow, Charlie tipped his hat.
"Welcome back, little Mr. Thomas," he said, before retreating from the room.
Outside, Purvis intercepted Charlie, his tone firm. "Charlie, you can't take matters into your own hands."
Charlie smirked. "Purvis, I simply welcomed the boy back. Surely, that's not a crime?"
Charlie left without further argument, while Purvis turned to an experienced agent, Papo.
"Papo, I need you to keep an eye on them 24/7. Can you do that?"
"Of course," Papo replied confidently.
"Good. Let me know immediately if anything changes," Purvis instructed before departing.
However, Papo had his own plans. Shortly after, he made a discreet phone call. "A taco for three, please."
The cryptic message set things in motion. A delivery boy arrived at the FBI branch with a package, which Papo accepted without a word. The boy left without payment, vanishing into the nearby alley, where a black Buick awaited.
Inside the car sat Paul, now noticeably plumper than before, enjoying a life of unchecked indulgence.
"Is it done?" Paul asked, puffing on a cigar.
"Done," the delivery boy confirmed with a grin. "Tortillas for three, the dose is perfect."
Paul chuckled, the satisfaction of his scheming evident. "Good. Now, let's get out of here."
Later that day, Purvis returned to the FBI office, only to be met with devastating news. The Thomas family had been hospitalized for food poisoning, and Papo had vanished two hours earlier.
Bang!
Purvis slammed his fist against his desk in frustration. "Why? Why do people like Papo betray us?"
The answer lay in a $200,000 check and a promise of safe passage out of the country—enough to buy loyalty from even the most trusted of agents.
Meanwhile, at the hospital, Charlie Lee received a brief note: "Done." The simplicity of the message belied its weight.
"No one ignores the rules," Charlie muttered to himself, confident that Thomas had been adequately punished.
Though the food poisoning wasn't lethal, it left Thomas weakened and unsure of the long-term consequences.
"I hope you live a long, regretful life," Charlie murmured, crossing himself mockingly as he concealed his dark intentions.
Just then, Norma's voice broke through his thoughts. "Charlie, he moved! Eric moved!"
Charlie rushed to Eric's bedside, where the boy's fingers twitched faintly.
"Eric, can you hear me?" Andy, the family doctor, asked gently.
With great effort, Eric opened his eyes. His voice was hoarse as he whispered, "What happened?"
Memories of the brutal attack flooded back, but Eric managed a weak smile upon hearing of Thomas's misfortune. "Serves him right," he muttered.
Charlie frowned, concerned by the boy's intense reaction. Could Eric's traumatic experience have planted a seed of darkness within him?
"You need to focus on recovery," Charlie said, masking his unease with a reassuring tone.
With Eric on the mend, Charlie shifted his attention to other matters.
"Molly arrives tomorrow," he informed Huang Yanyan. "We'll finalize the school arrangements with Mr. Dewey."
Excited, Yanyan sprang into action, organizing plans for buses and other necessities. Meanwhile, Charlie visited Dewey College, persuading the headmaster to begin classes early.
Double salaries for the teachers sealed the deal.
Returning to the Shendun Club, Charlie studied a map of Chicago, envisioning the future expansion of Gold Coast College. He dreamed of transforming it into a prestigious Ivy League institution, a symbol of both power and excellence.