Take My Breath Away

As soon as Debbie left the cab, the smoke filled her nostrils. She could taste the acrid vapors, stale, with a hint of bitterness. "Ugh...Carlos... ugh..." She coughed violently, tears threatening to come out. She hated the smell, hated the taste, and most of all hated not being able to breathe. Carlos did this deliberately. He knew she hated the habit, yet he exacerbated the problem. He couldn't stop playing pranks on her, and she walked into them all the time.

Carlos smiled mischievously.

The cab didn't leave immediately. The driver rolled down the window and stared at Carlos. After a while, he asked, "You look familiar. Are you Mr. Huo?"

Carlos nodded indifferently, at which the driver pushed the door open excitedly and rushed over to Carlos. He stammered out a request, nervous at finally meeting the man. "I...my daughter... my daughter worships you very much. Can I get an autograph for her? Her birthday's coming up. It would make an awesome present."

It was a request from a loving father. Hard to refuse. Carlos wanted kids, and his heart softened around them, indeed, at the very mention.

Carlos held Debbie tight in his arms and said, "Okay."

The driver ran back to the cab and rooted around in there for a long while, but he found nothing that Carlos could write with or on.

He turned back and looked at Carlos, eyes full of disappointment. "Never mind. I don't have a pen or paper. Thank you, Mr. Huo."

Carlos raised his eyebrows and released Debbie. He motioned the security guard to bring him some paper and a pen.

Then Carlos wrote, "Happy birthday! —Carlos Huo."

The driver was moved. While Carlos was writing, he took out his old phone and snapped a pic.

Carlos saw that, but he decided not to take it seriously. He was a fan, after all. What was the harm?

After handing the paper to the driver, he put his arm around Debbie's waist and walked back to the Emperor with her.

"Thank you, Mr. Huo! Bye, Mr. Huo!" the driver said. He watched the car drive into the manor. When the car couldn't be seen anymore, he spent a few minutes standing there to admire the grand house. There was a lot of square footage to be impressed with. He drank it all in with his eyes.

Inside the manor

Debbie complained in the car, "You blew the smoke in my face as soon as I got out of the cab. What were you thinking? If you hate me, just tell me. I can handle it."

Carlos leaned against the seat and looked at he

but she didn't say anything.

Eventually, without a word, he let go of Debbie and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Quiet spread across the room. Debbie sat back on the bed.

Blankly, she looked out the window. But she really didn't see anything. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than sleep. Slowly, she lay down and drifted off.

To her surprise, for the next three days, she didn't even see Carlos once. The sun rose and set, just like it always did. But she endured. She prepared her meals robotically, not having much of an appetite.

She would have thought he had gone missing if Emmett hadn't re-posted a news article saying that Carlos had negotiated a contract with an overseas-funded enterprise.

This was the longest game of the silent treatment they had ever played.

In New York

Carlos' car sped into the Huos' residence. He got out of the car gloomily and went straight to the study on the second floor.

On his way, he saw Tabitha, but he only greeted her flatly. The grimness on his face told her that something was wrong. Her heart tightened. She followed him all the way up the stairs. She knew something was going to happen. Everyone could feel it—a tension in the air.

Sure enough, as soon as he saw James in the study, Carlos dashed over and greeted him with his fist.

Covering the side of his face that Carlos had struck, James glared at him and shouted, "Have you lost your mind? I'm your father!"

Carlos grabbed James' collar and stared at him fiercely. "How are you a father? Did you earn respect from your family? What kind of father would hurt his own daughter-in-law?"