After everyone had departed, Astrid remained at the cemetery. She sat in her car with the air-conditioning on full blast for a few minutes, preparing to leave, but then she turned off the engine and got out. She needed to walk a bit. Her head was spinning, and she desperately needed to make sense of the startling news she had just learned. Why in the world had Charlie bought her husband’s company? And why had he never told her? Did Charlie and Michael have some secret agreement all along? Or was there a darker scheme that she couldn’t even begin to fathom? She didn’t know what to think, but she couldn’t help feeling strangely betrayed by Charlie. She had poured out her heart and soul to him, and he had deceived her. Could she ever trust him again?

Astrid wandered down an overgrown path into a deeper part of the woods, passing long creepers dangling from the limbs of towering rain trees and old graves covered in moss. Birds cackled loudly in the trees overhead, and small butterflies darted in and out of gigantic ferns. Finally she could breathe again. She felt totally at ease in these woods—they were almost the same as the woods she had spent her childhood playing in at Tyersall Park. At a clearing where rays of sunlight filtered through the verdant foliage, Astrid came upon a small gravestone nestled by the sprawling roots of a large banyan tree. There was a distinctive sculpture of a cherubic angel crouched on top of the tomb, its huge wings unfurled and arching all the way over its head. A tiny oval sepiatoned portrait of an earnest-looking little boy dressed in a white suit was centered behind glass on the headstone. He would have been around Cassian’s age when he died. There was something so tragic and yet beautiful about that gravestone, and Astrid was reminded of the graves at Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.

On one of their frequent trips back when they were living in London during their university days, Charlie had shown her the tomb of Abelard and Hélo?se. When they finally arrived at the grand tomb, they found it strewn with love letters, and Charlie explained: “Abelard was a great philosopher in the twelfth century who was hired to teach Hélo?se, a young noble woman who was the niece of Notre Dame’s Canon Fulbert. They fell in love and had an affair, which led to Hélo?se becoming pregnant and the two of them getting married in secret. When Hélo?se’s uncle discovered the affair, he had Abelard castrated and Hélo?se sent to a nunnery. They could never see each other again, but they sent each other passionate letters for the rest of their lives, letters that have become among the most famous in history. The bones of the lovers were finally reunited here in 1817, and ever since, lovers from all over the world have been leaving letters on this tomb.”

“Ohh—how romantic!” Astrid sighed. “Will you promise you’ll never stop sending me love letters?”

Charlie kissed her hands and declared, “I promise I will never stop sending you letters of love, Astrid. Until my dying day.”

As Astrid stood alone in the middle of the forest recalling his words, it was as if she could suddenly hear the trees speaking to her. In the deepest hollows of bark, in the rustling of leaves, she could hear them whisper, He did it out of love, he did it out of love. And suddenly it all became so clear. Charlie had bought Michael’s company to help save her marriage. He had overpaid by hundreds of millions because he wanted Michael to have a fortune of his own, to give him a chance to overcome his feelings of inadequacy. It was an act of pure, unselfish love. Everything Charlie had done three years ago began to make sense now—advising her to wait at least a year before agreeing to a divorce, telling her, I have a feeling Michael could have a change of heart. Michael did have a change of heart, but not in the way that anyone could have anticipated. He had transformed into a completely unrecognizable man. The modest, unassuming soldier had become a brash, maniacal billionaire. And he wanted her to become a different type of wife to match him. Astrid realized how much she had struggled to change for Michael, and how much she no longer wanted to. What she truly wanted, what she had always wanted but failed to realize until this moment, was someone who loved her just the way she was. Someone like Charlie. Oh, Charlie. In another lifetime they could have been happy together. If only she hadn’t broken his heart the first time. If only she had been stronger and stood up to her parents the first time. If only he wasn’t married with two beautiful kids of his own. If only.

* * *

* Henry Leong Jr.’s personal net worth is conservatively estimated at $420 million, since his father is still very much alive and he has yet to inherit any of his real fortune. For that reason, and because he commutes daily to the Woodlands for his job, Harry drives a very fuel-economical car. His wife, the attorney Cathleen Kah (herself an heiress to the Kah Chin Kee fortune), walks from their consulate-like house on Nassim Road to the bus stop and takes Bus 75 to her office at Raffles Place every day.

12

MAR VISTA

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

“When was the last time you saw them?” Corinna asked Kitty when they were comfortably seated in the Tesla that had come to fetch them from the airport.

“Three weeks ago. I try to spend a week every month here, but honestly, it’s become a huge challenge lately because of my daughter’s regimen.”

“So it is true. Bernard and your daughter are here in LA for medical treatment?”

Kitty let out a weary laugh. “I have no idea how that rumor got started. Bernard was here for treatments, but not the kind you’re thinking of.”

“What kind of rare disorder is it?” Corinna asked, her eyes widening.

Taking a deep breath, Kitty began her story: “It all started right after we got married in Las Vegas. We stayed there for a few days, and one night we went to see the latest Batman film. I didn’t realize then how obsessed Bernard was with Batman, how he saw himself as an Asian version of Bruce Wayne. With his obsession for exotic cars and creepy interior design, I should have guessed. So when we got back to Hong Kong, Bernard was fixated on wanting to look like that actor from Batman. He found this top plastic surgeon who supposedly specialized in making people look like celebrities, this doctor in Seoul. We had long talks about it, and hey, I didn’t mind if my husband wanted to look like some handsome actor. I thought it was quite exciting, actually. But then…”

“My God, they botched the surgery, didn’t they?” Corinna said, on the edge of her bucket seat.

“No, the surgery actually turned out perfect. But a colossal mistake was made by the prep team before the surgery took place. It was a computer mistake—the most advanced plastic surgery in Korea is all computer-aided these days, and the AutoCAD 3D imaging program that was ‘designing’ Bernard’s new face received the wrong information. It was a language issue—the nurse heard the name wrongly from the doctor before the surgery and she typed the wrong actor’s name into the computer. So all the anatomical impressions they made were a mistake, and all implants were fabricated for the wrong face. Bernard came out of the surgery looking nothing like what he intended to.”

“I have to ask, who was the actor the nurse confused him with?”

Kitty sighed. “It was supposed to be Christian Bale, but instead the nurse heard Kristen Bell.”

Corinna’s jaw dropped. “That perky blond actress?”

“Yes. Turns out they had another patient from Hong Kong that was transitioning from male to female. It was an honest mistake.”

“Is this why Bernard has been hiding from everyone in Asia?”

“No. I mean, at first, yes, but that’s not really the reason anymore. Bernard and I came to Los Angeles so he could get corrective plastic surgery. He found a great doctor who has been slowly transforming his face back to normal. But now the problem goes far beyond his surgery.”

“What do you mean?”

“This experience has completely changed Bernard. Not just physically but psychologically. You’ll understand when you see him.”

At this point, they arrived at a small two-story English cottage–style house in Mar Vista where a little girl and a man were doing yoga in the front yard with a tall blond instructor.

“Oh my goodness—is that cute little girl your daughter?” Corinna asked, staring at the girl with the long braided hair executing a perfect downward-facing dog.

“Yes, that’s Gisele. Here, put on some of this organic hand sanitizer before you meet her.”

As soon as the car came to a stop, Gisele broke from her yoga pose and came running toward them.

“Did you put on the Dr. Bronner’s?” Bernard yelled urgently at Kitty.

“Of course,” Kitty yelled back, as she hugged her daughter tightly. “My darling! I’ve missed you so much!”

“You’re not supposed to say that! We don’t want to implant attachment issues,” Bernard chastised. “And you’re supposed to speak to her in Mandarin only. I get English and Cantonese, remember?”

“Hoy es el día de espa?ol, no?”*1 the little Chinese girl said, furrowing her brow.

“My goodness, she can speak Spanish so well already! How many languages is she learning?” Corinna inquired.

“Just five right now—she has a part-time Colombian nanny who only speaks to her in Spanish, and our live-in chef is French,” Kitty replied. “Gisele, this is Auntie Corinna. Can you say hello to Auntie Corinna?”

“Buenos días, Tía Corinna,” Gisele said sweetly.