The warm afternoon light that filtered through the wide, modern glass windows of the living room, lay in slow-moving, geometric patterns across the polished tile floor. The house was quiet, filled only with the faint, persistent hum of the air conditioning. Mina sat cross-legged on the plush sectional couch, her brand-new iPhone resting in her hands, still gleaming with that cool, unmistakable sheen of a new premium gadget.
Wes had stepped out shortly after lunch, mentioning that he had a few "errands to run." He offered no details, and Mina, following the unstated rule of their nascent life together, hadn't pressed for any.
With the house hers and the long afternoon stretching ahead, it felt like the perfect, quiet moment for a connection. She navigated the slick interface, found the contact for Lily, her best friend back in Los Angeles, and initiated a video call.
After a few moments of buffering, Lily's familiar, grinning face filled the screen. Her hair was pulled into a haphazard, messy bun, and the background behind her was a colorful riot of college dorm life. Textbooks, half-eaten snacks, and bright string lights.
"Mina! Finally! You're alive!" Lily exclaimed, her voice thick with exaggerated relief. "I thought you got kidnapped or something. It's like ten p.m. here, and you're calling now?"
Mina laughed, the sound warm and easy. "Sorry! It's only one in the afternoon here. I'm still figuring out the new phone, which, by the way, is amazing."
"Never mind the phone," Lily cut in. "Updates! What's Manila like? More importantly, how are you with the mysterious fifth cousin-slash-uncle you're cohabitating with?"
Mina smiled, automatically smoothing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Wes? Honestly, he's been incredibly kind. Super patient and surprisingly thoughtful. I completely lucked out, to be honest. He's been cooking me breakfast every morning, and he's actually quite good at it. As in, like, pro chef level good."
Lily's smirk was instantaneous and knowing. "That's the successful one, right? The one who has his own business?"
"Yeah, that's him."
"And…?" Lily leaned closer to the camera, her eyes narrowing in mock-suspicion, as if conducting an interrogation.
"And what?" Mina said, trying to contain her amusement.
"And what's he like? You mentioned before he was handsome when you met him as a kid. Did time ruin him?"
Mina hesitated only for a second, her cheeks beginning to feel a tell-tale warmth. "Actually, I think he's more handsome now than I remembered. I swear he doesn't look forty at all. More like early thirties, maybe younger. He's in genuinely amazing shape. Like, one of those ridiculously fit K-drama CEOs who jogs shirtless every morning just for the aesthetics of the show."
Lily's jaw dropped in theatrical disbelief. "Wait, wait, wait. You're telling me you have a super-fit, ridiculously handsome uncle that cooks you breakfast every single day? Girl, I think you've been watching way too many K-dramas since you landed."
Mina burst into genuine laughter. "Stop it! It's not like that. He's just a nice, kind person who happens to like to cook, that's all."
"Uh-huh," Lily teased, dragging the vowel. "Pro chef level skills, has K-drama visuals, and owns a company? That is literally the setup to a Netflix series. Mina, you're living in a Wattpad novel."
Mina rolled her eyes, but the smile remained fixed on her face.
Lily's expression turned serious, demanding. "Show me. I want proof. I refuse to imagine your life without visual evidence."
"What? I can't just—"
Mina bit her lip, but the temptation was too strong. She quickly scrolled through the gallery and found a photo she'd taken the day before: Wes laughing at something she'd said while they were sitting at the coffee shop. A perfect, candid shot. Plain navy polo, simple khaki pants, the only visible extravagance the subtle, elegant weight of the Panerai on his wrist. Understated, charismatic, and effortlessly magnetic.
She sent the photo.
A few seconds later, Lily's expression froze, her scrolling finger hovering motionless over the screen.
"…Whoa."
"Told you," Mina said, a shy, proud smile playing on her lips.
"Uh, Mina? He doesn't just look like a K-drama actor. He looks like a professional model. I'm serious, he's crazy photogenic. And wait a second—" Lily squinted intently at the image, a vertical furrow forming between her brows. "Why does he look familiar?"
Mina blinked. "You probably just saw someone who looks like him. He lives here in Manila, not L.A., remember?"
Lily shook her head, tilting the phone. "No, no. I swear I've seen that face before. Hold on."
Before Mina could ask, Lily scrambled off her bed, the laptop camera wobbling wildly as she rummaged noisily through a large plastic drawer near her desk. "Don't you dare hang up!" Lily's muffled voice called out.
"What are you doing?" Mina asked, half-laughing at the chaotic sounds.
"Looking for something!" came the reply.
There was a final thud and a rustle of paper before Lily's face reappeared, slightly flushed, holding up an old, dog-eared issue of Men's Fitness magazine.
"My dad's old collection," Lily said, slightly breathless from the exertion. "I suddenly remembered this one issue that had a ridiculously good-looking Asian guy doing an intense functional workout spread. I swear that is your uncle."
She flipped through the pages rapidly, the paper crackling. Then she froze, triumphant.
"Found it."
Mina leaned closer to her new phone screen as Lily held the magazine up to the camera. Even through the grainy dorm lighting, the image was unmistakable: a shirtless man, shoulders powerfully broad, waist narrowly defined, mid-set with a pair of heavy dumbbells. His expression was calm, laser-focused, his physique lean and muscled, with subtle veins tracing the lines of his forearms.
The headline was bold: WES CHAI: FUNCTIONAL FITNESS FOR THE MODERN PROFESSIONAL.
Mina's mouth went instantly dry. "That's… Wes."
Lily grinned like she'd just cracked a major case. "I knew it! Mina, this issue isn't even that old. It's from like, two years ago!"
Mina stared at the image. Wes looked the same, completely untouched by time, just as impossibly fit and contained as he was now, in real life.
"I can't believe he never mentioned this," Mina said softly, a thread of confusion weaving into her surprise.
"Oh, it gets better," Lily replied, already multitasking, typing furiously on her laptop keyboard. "Give me a sec…"
Mina watched silently as Lily scrolled through her search results, her eyes darting back and forth across the screen.
"Okay, so apparently, he's done more than one feature. I'm seeing Men's Fitness, Health & Strength, and even a few dedicated interviews for high-end wellness blogs. And, uh—" Lily paused, eyes widening as she scrolled again. "Mina, there are photos of him dated just three months ago."
Mina froze, the sleek phone suddenly feeling heavy in her hand. "What?"
"Yeah. It says he did an online feature earlier this year, talking about maintaining peak physical fitness while running a global company. There's even a brand-new photo of him in a gym environment." Lily swiftly turned the laptop toward the camera, positioning it perfectly. "Look."
On the screen was Wes again, wearing a simple black workout shirt, arms crossed as he stood beside a row of imposing free weights. Calm. Professional. Unquestionably confident.
Mina stared at the image, her chest tightening with an unfamiliar pressure. He never told me any of this.
Lily, oblivious to the silence, cheered. "Your uncle's a total badass, Mina! Businessman, model, pro chef. What even is his life?"
Mina didn't answer. Her gaze remained fixed on the screen long after Lily stopped talking.
She thought about Wes's quiet mornings, his calm, unassuming smile, the plain, expensive fabric of his shirts, his low-profile SUV, the way he subtly deflected questions about his "errands." He hadn't lied to her, not exactly. But he also hadn't told her the full truth.
And for the first time since she'd arrived, Mina began to wonder just how little she truly knew about her uncle, Wes Chai.
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The Manila branch of TLG barely rose above the concrete sprawl of the port, consisting only of two modest floors, weathered by salt air and freight dust. Wes stepped inside the sound-proofed conference room and sealed the door behind him, letting the world outside fall away. Only the low hum of the secured communication console remained.
He keyed in the authorization string. Lines of encrypted prompts rippled across the screen before resolving into a satellite uplink handshake. A moment later, Richard's face blinked into view from his office in Singapore, hair askew, shirt wrinkled, eyes sharp despite the fatigue etched around them.
"Hey, Richard," Wes said. "I've got Dana here with me at the Manila branch."
Dana Hardridge, leaned over his shoulder, close enough that her blonde hair brushed his arm. She gave the camera a playful wave. "Richard, have you even gone home in the last twenty-four hours?"
Richard snorted. "I would have, but we're in crisis mode. My office is the only one wired to handle simultaneous secure connections for all branches." He paused, studying Wes with a dry lift of his brow. "Not unless our dear CEO wants to come off the bench and fire up the Data Analysis branch again."
Wes opened his mouth, but Dana cut in first.
"Non-starter," she said firmly. "We need Wes glowing in the spotlight as our charming, lovable CEO and human lightning rod. That way the rest of us gets to move around unnoticed."
"Well, it was just a thought." Richard's fingers danced across his keyboard. "Bringing everyone in now."
One by one, the other UMBRA Department Chiefs appeared.
Willis came online first, framed by the sharp modern lines of his Dubai office.
Then William Lee, officially TLG's VP for Operations, unofficially UMBRA's Chief of Administration, joined from Shanghai, sleeves rolled up as usual.
Last was Peter Harding, senior partner at Harding-Myers, UMBRA's Chief of Geopolitics, sitting in what appeared to be a richly paneled study lit by a single brass lamp.
"Good to see everyone," Wes said. "Let's get started. Willis, you have the floor."
Willis nodded, his expression hardening. He reached for a slim report on his desk. "We'll begin with the recent assassination attempt on Wes. Our tech team cracked the assassin's burner phone. The guy got complacent and didn't fully wipe his chat and call logs." He flipped open the folder. "We traced repeated calls to an unlisted Moscow number."
A quiet tension shifted across the screens.
Wes turned toward William. "We're suspecting a business rival. Nothing about this feels like a state-level hit, at least not aimed at me as TLG's CEO."
William tapped a pen absently against his chin. "Two possibilities come to mind. Baltic Transports, the one competing with us for the Eastern European routes and Ocean Star, the ones we're in a bidding war against for more Panama Canal transit rights." His brow furrowed. "Given the assassin's Russian ties, I'm leaning toward Baltic. Ocean Star's backers are Chinese, with CCP connections. This doesn't fit their playbook."
Richard leaned back in his chair. "If it is Baltic, odds are high that Andrei Sokolov's involved. He's a silent partner."
Peter let out a low whistle. "Sokolov, the oligarch? That would track. Man solves problems with a hammer, usually a very loud one. Killing Wes to disrupt TLG's operations… that's precisely his level of subtlety."
Wes's voice cooled. "We need confirmation. Richard, can your people dig for any link between Sokolov and the assassin?"
"I'll re-task a team," Richard said. "But it'll take time. Everyone's already stretched thin."
"Do what you can." Wes shifted the discussion. "Next: Bifrost. Nome's getting crowded. Too many unfamiliar faces, and I'd bet good money a decent chunk of them are covert state assets sniffing around."
A ripple of grim acknowledgement moved through the conference.
"Then we dig in," Peter said. "This won't untangle itself."
Screens adjusted, notes appeared, and voices settled into the cadence of deep strategy. As the hours ahead stretched long and heavy, Wes leaned back slightly in his chair, the Manila room dim around him, the faces of UMBRA's leadership floating in its cold blue light.
The real work was only beginning.