Chapter 6: The Real Address
The Old Apartment — Night
Rain set the fried rice noodles on the table, and Emily immediately leaned in with an exaggerated sniff.
“This smells incredible! Oh my God!”
Before Rain could hand her chopsticks, Emily had already grabbed a fork from the side and begun twirling noodles around it.
“Don’t give me chopsticks. This isn’t a Chinese restaurant; I don’t have to pretend I’m a nimble foreigner.”
She ate in a rush, winding a huge bundle of noodles around her fork and stuffing it into her mouth. Quick and agile, with no concern at all for appearances.
Rain sat across from Emily, watched her make short work of the meal, and pushed the juice toward her with a smile.
“How many days has it been since you last ate?”
“None of your business.” Emily swallowed the last mouthful of noodles, took a long gulp of orange juice, and looked at Rain. “Don’t forget to message me when you go to her house tomorrow. By the way, do you know her address?”
Rain froze. “I... think so? I’ve been to her house before.”
“Are you sure? The one in the Bronx? It hardly looks like the natural habitat of an Alpha with serious social standing.”
Emily curled her lip, got up, and opened the refrigerator without ceremony. As she searched through it, she continued, “And she’s already lied to you. Are you really sure the home she took you to wasn’t some kind of cover?”
“All right, all right.”
Rain raised both hands in surrender. “Then in your esteemed opinion, where do Alphas with serious social standing choose to make their habitats?”
“I couldn’t tell you for sure.” Emily took out a cup of yogurt and shut the refrigerator with a grin. “New York has plenty of wealthy neighborhoods. The Upper East Side is mostly old money. Tribeca has a concentration of finance and tech nouveaux riches. West Village people look understated, but their backgrounds are anything but. Hudson Yards is for the kind of people who...”
She paused.
“...are terrified someone might not notice they’re rich.”
Rain blinked at her.
“There are that many places? You really know your stuff!”
“Poor people can study rich people too.” Emily peeled back the yogurt lid. “Especially academic losers like me, who spend every day doom-scrolling job sites.”
After a bite, she added, “If she works in tech, Tribeca is likely. But if she’s truly that high-status an Alpha, she might live on the Upper East Side. The richer people are, the less they like displaying their money—but everything around them displays it for them.”
“Then maybe I really don’t know where she lives. What should I do?”
Rain frowned at Emily. Emily peeled the lid all the way off and rolled her eyes with theatrical emphasis.
“Ask her, obviously!”
The Old Apartment — Late Night
“Your address?”
Rain stared at her phone, her fingertip hovering over Send for a long time.
“The real one.”
After the message went through, the chat stayed quiet for about ten seconds.
Then the words appeared at the top: Celia is typing.
They stopped, then vanished.
Then they appeared again: Celia is typing.
Rain watched the words and suddenly felt uneasy too. She had the vague sense that she had crossed some sort of boundary, though she could not say what it was.
After a while, a message arrived.
Celia: Valdieri House, 18 East 63rd Street.
Celia: I’ll be waiting for you at two tomorrow afternoon.
Rain stared at the screen. Once she understood, she immediately copied the address into navigation. The instant the map came up, even her breathing softened.
Not Tribeca. It really was on the Upper East Side.
The map photograph showed only a small part of the façade: restrained stonework, tall narrow windows, no ostentatious decoration around the entrance. Yet an air of mystery, nobility, and unmistakable extraordinariness seemed to seep straight through the screen.
Rain stared at it for half a minute, then sent the address to Emily.
Rain: I’m picking up the cat here tomorrow.
Emily replied almost instantly.
Emily: ...
Emily: Rainnnn.
Emily: This isn’t a “rich friend”!
Emily: This is the kind of address that appears in a BBC documentary!!
Emily: Are you sure you’re just picking up a cat and not attending some heiress’s engagement banquet?!!!
Rain: [wiping sweat] Don’t be ridiculous.
Emily: Remember: comfortable shoes. Fully charged phone. Share your location with me.
Emily: And don’t drink anything she offers you.
Rain: ...You watch too many TV dramas.
Emily: ...I honestly hope this is just a soap opera.
Rain gave a quiet laugh. Emily’s words relaxed her a little, but the thought of seeing Celestina tomorrow still left her conflicted. She looked at the Manhattan pin on the map, at that ancient residence whose mystery made her feel even more pressured, and closed her eyes in despair.
Valdieri House — Late Night
At the same time, Celestina had just finished an international video conference at Valdieri House. She closed her laptop, and the room dimmed with it. A tall figure approached and gathered the scattered documents from her desk. He moved quickly; paper shifted through his hands without making the slightest sound. By the time Celestina rose, he had placed the sorted files on the corner of the desk and silently retreated to the door.
Celestina did not look at him. She walked past him, and he moved as well, following behind his mistress as silently as a shadow. She left the study and turned into the pet room beside it. When she emerged, she carried a cat carrier in one hand and a heavy file folder in the other, descending the stairs. The man followed behind her in silence, carrying a pet medical kit.
The butler came forward just then. He glanced at the man behind Celestina, then looked away without a flicker of response, as though he had noticed a newly acquired vase.
“I have a guest at two tomorrow afternoon,” Celestina said lightly as she continued downstairs.
The butler paused, then inclined his head.
“Understood, Miss.”
Celestina looked toward the hall below.
A soaring dome. Cool white marble columns. Oil paintings from centuries past hanging on the walls. Delicate black wrought-iron scrollwork and dark wood combined along the banister, quietly declaring their cost. This was not the residence she had arranged in the Bronx. This did not resemble a home at all, but the emblem of a family.
Rain probably won’t like it.
She thought it in silence.
Rongrong came racing out of the small sitting room, tiny paws pattering over the plush carpet. The moment it saw Celestina, it jumped onto the stair and rubbed against her ankle, letting out a thin little meow.
Celestina looked down. A smile curved her lips as she handed what she carried to the butler behind her.
“Don’t run around tomorrow.”
Rongrong tilted its head.
She bent to pick it up, her fingertips gliding through the soft fur along its back. The kitten purred comfortably in her arms, completely unaware that it was the most important bargaining chip being weighed in two people’s hearts.
Celestina stroked it gently, but something deeper lay in her gaze.
“She’s coming to take you home tomorrow.”
She paused, holding the cat as she slowly descended the stairs.
“You’d better let her see that you’re doing very well here.”
But after saying that, she fell silent.
No. That was not the outcome she wanted.
If Rongrong seemed too happy here, Rain would feel more at ease taking it away. And even if Rongrong acted reluctant to leave her, would Rain soften her heart?
At the thought, Celestina closed her eyes and laughed softly.
Since when had she needed a cat to help her keep someone?
Ridiculous.
Valdieri House — The Next Afternoon
Rain stepped out of the security car and checked her watch. It was 1:47. She had taken a taxi from downtown to the Upper East Side, but as soon as it entered the quiet residential district, it had been stopped outside the gate. She had been asked to get out and politely escorted into a security vehicle instead.
Now she stood outside Valdieri House. Her phone was fully charged. Location sharing with Emily was on. Rain looked at the historic building behind its white walls. Inside the black iron gates, hedges had been clipped with exacting care; the stone exterior had a cool gray-white cast in the sunlight. At first glance, it did not look different from the surrounding houses.
As Rain stood outside studying it, a man in a black suit approached and asked politely, “Miss Rain?”
Rain jumped and turned toward the solidly built man. He had made no sound when he walked; somehow, he had appeared at her side without a trace.
Rain swallowed, tightened her grip on her phone, and nodded.
“That’s me.”
The man bowed slightly, led her around the stone wall, and opened a side entrance.
“Miss Valdieri is waiting for you.”