WIFEY. | EPISODE EIGHT (8.5)
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Lena had done Max a solid by offering to skip the dining portion of the gala. It meant the pair could easily blend into the crowd. Still, anxiety thrummed in Max’s veins. They’d done their best to ignore it, distracting themself with the necessary primping and preening rituals, but as they fiddled with the last few hair pins of their updo, frustrations mounted. They’d tried so hard to keep realistic expectations, but the possibilities were endless. What if this was all a mistake? It was all based on a hunch after all. A wild idea, stolen from a harshly whispered conversation between lovers when the children were thought to be asleep.
Of course they could be right. But then what? Going to the authorities was out of the question. It was an open secret that almost every member of the police force in San My was in the pocket of a criminal enterprise. And even if Max swallowed enough pride to ask Lena for help again, surely this was a step too far? She’d made it clear that The Fengs were near-untouchable. Going after them directly was out of the question. Plus this time, Max had nothing to offer in return. A pit grew in their stomach. Were they delivering themself directly to the lion’s den?
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