She wasn’t a model or actress like the wives of so many Chinese mafia bosses. His father had met her on a visit to his hometown in Macau. She’d been a freshly hired cigarette girl and twenty to her future husband’s forty-six. Before that, Raymond Zhang had no desire to settle down. Didn’t want kids or any of that, he’d told his son. But one look at the new cigarette girl had been all it took to change his mind.

Sadly, she had died less than four years after having Victor. But clearly, Victor still had a talent for handling mothers.

After we were settled in, the surgeon himself came down to visit. This wasn’t the same guy who had been listed on the paperwork my mother had given me. That guy had a long last name of Indian origin. This one’s last name was only three letters, Kim.

“You’re Korean!” my mother said, switching to her native language as soon as she saw his name tag. Luckily, she was still signing, or I might not have understood.

I surreptitiously looked him up online as they shared small talk about his parents, who had immigrated here back in the 80s. According to the internet, this guy was the best oncology surgeon in Texas. Not Dallas—the whole state of Texas. In fact, from what I could tell, he worked out of a hospital in Houston.

There were a bunch of sentimental stories online about how he’d saved one person or another from certain death by cutting out malicious tumors and cancerous tissues. Many of these grateful people had driven and flown in to Houston from other states and countries to have him perform their surgeries.

But here he was in Dallas. I wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten privileges at this hospital.

Actually, I was sure.

I looked over to where Victor stood on the other side of the bed, impassively watching my mother’s hands as she spoke with the doctor. With the view of Dallas framing him from behind, he looked like an all-powerful titan of the industry. Untouchable and cold.

Yet, here he was, going above and beyond to help someone I loved…again. Confused thoughts swirled around my head, trying to settle on how I should feel about all of this. And Victor.

Dr. Kim had a warm bedside manner, and my mother visibly calmed down as he went through the procedure with her. After he finished his explanation, he asked in English, “Do you have any questions?”

“Yes,” my mother answered, also in English. Her voice was gravely serious. “I noticed the rainbow flag pin on your lapel. Does that mean you’re gay? If so, I have a son. Very handsome police officer. And he dates men sometimes.”