Shaoyen said nothing, but her glare spoke volumes. Stupid boy stupid boy stupid boy!

As if reading her mind, Carlton responded, “We can trust her, Mother. Whether you like it or not, Rachel is going to be part of our lives. She’s visiting Hangzhou now with a friend from Singapore, but once she returns to Shanghai, I really think you need to invite her over. This freeze-out has gone on for far too long. Once you meet her, I know you’ll come to like her as well.”

Shaoyen stared down at the uneaten crisp of golden pork skin on her plate, saying nothing, so Carlton tried another tactic. “If you don’t believe me, ask Colette. All your friends were charmed by Rachel in Paris, weren’t they? Stephanie Shi, Adele Deng, Tiffany Yap.”

Colette nodded diplomatically. “Yes, she was a big hit with all my friends. Mrs. Bao, Rachel’s nothing like what you’re expecting—she’s American, but in the best possible way. I think that in time, Shanghai and Beijing society would come to accept her, especially if she carries a different handbag. You should give her one of your Hermès bags, Mrs. Bao. She will be like the daughter you never had.”

Shaoyen sat stone-faced, while Gaoliang addressed his son. “I’m glad Rachel was able to help you, but it still doesn’t excuse your behavior. The profligate spending in Paris, the public fights, the drag racing, it’s all an indication to me that you are not ready to—”

Carlton got up abruptly from his chair. “Look, I apologized. I’m very sorry for disappointing you. For always disappointing you. I’m not going to sit here any longer and continue this inquisition. Especially when the two of you can’t even sort out your own problems! Colette, let’s get out of here.”

“But the bird’s nest? The bird’s nest dessert isn’t even here yet,” Colette protested.

Rolling his eyes, Carlton left the dining room without another word.

Colette pursed her lips awkwardly. “Um, I think I better follow him. But first, allow me to treat tonight.”

“That’s a very nice gesture, Colette, but we’ll take care of dinner,” Gaoliang responded.

“I did all the ordering—I really should pay,” Colette said matter-of-factly, gesturing to Roxanne, who ceremoniously handed the head waiter a credit card.

“No, no, we insist,” Shaoyen said, getting up from her chair and attempting to thrust her credit card in the waiter’s hand.

“Absolutely not, Mrs. Bao!” Colette shrieked, leaping up and snatching Shaoyen’s card away from the hapless waiter.

“Aiyah, it’s no use fighting you,” Gaoliang said.

“You’re right, it’s no use,” Colette said with a triumphant smile.

A few moments later, the waiter returned. Glancing sheepishly at Colette, he whispered something in Roxanne’s ear.

“That’s not possible. Try again,” Roxanne said dismissively.

“We tried several times, ma’am,” he said in a low voice. “Perhaps it has exceeded its limit?”

Roxanne stepped outside of the private dining room with the waiter and barked, “Do you know what this is? It’s a P. J. Whitney Titanium card, and it’s only available to ultra-high-net-worth individuals. There is no limit. I could buy an airplane with this card if I wanted to. Run it one more time.”