China Rich Girlfriend

by Kevin Kwan

  I met Isabel at a party on a yacht that was thrown, coincidentally, by your cousin Eddie Cheng and his best friend Leo Ming. Eddie was one of the few people who actually took pity on me. I have to confess—I initially stayed far away from Isabel because she reminded me of you. Like you, she was constantly being underestimated because of her looks. Turns out she was an intensely smart lawyer, University of Birmingham Law School grad, and fast becoming one of Hong Kong’s top litigators. And she had a sense of style and breeding that set her apart. Her father was Jeremy Lai, the distinguished barrister. The Lais are an old-money family from Kowloon Tong, and her mother is from a rich Indonesian Chinese family. I did not want to fall for another unattainable princess who was chained to the rules of her family.

  But then as I got to know her, I found that she was nothing like you. No offense, but she was your polar opposite—wild and uninhibited, completely carefree. I found it exhilarating. She didn’t give a damn what her family thought, and as it turns out, they thought the sun and moon orbited around her and she could do no wrong. And to top it off, her parents liked me. (I think it was partly because her last three boyfriends had been Scottish, Aussie, and African American, respectively, and they were just so relieved when she brought home a Chinese boy.) They welcomed me into the family even during the early days of our dating, and it was such a refreshing change to be accepted and even liked by my girlfriend’s family. After six months of our whirlwind romance, we got married, and you know the rest.

  But actually, you don’t.

  Everyone thinks that we got married so fast because I got her pregnant. Yes, she was pregnant, but it wasn’t with my child. The thing I initially loved about Isabel—her unpredictability—was also her curse. Three months after we started dating, she suddenly disappeared. Things had been going so well, I was actually beginning to heal from our breakup. Then one day Isabel was gone. Turns out she had met up with one of her Indonesian cousins for a drink at Florida (you remember that ghastly bar in Lan Kwai Fong), and he had another friend tagging along. Some Indonesian chap who was a model. Before her cousin even knew what was happening, Isabel had disappeared with the guy. After a few days, I found out they had gone to Maui and were holed up in some private villa having a torrid romance. She wouldn’t come back to Hong Kong, and she broke off contact with all of us. I couldn’t understand what was happening. I was distraught, as were her parents.

  Then it came out that something like this had happened before. Not once, but several times. The year before, she had met this African American guy on a plane on the way to London, and suddenly she quit her job and moved to New Orleans with him. Two years before that, it was the Aussie surfer and a condo on the Gold Coast. I soon realized that the problem was bigger than any of us could have fathomed—my sister was studying psychopharmacology at the time, and she thought Isabel might have borderline personality disorder. I tried to talk to her parents about it, but they seemed to be in denial. They could not face up to the fact that their darling daughter might have any sort of mental illness—albeit one that can be managed with proper treatment. Through all her episodes, they never made her see a psychologist or get a proper evaluation. They just put up with her “dragon phases,” as they called it. She was born in the year of the dragon, and that was always the excuse they had for her behavior. They implored me to go to Hawaii and “rescue her.”

  So I went. I flew to Maui, and it turns out the male model was long gone but Isabel was now living in some sort of commune with a bunch of Radical Faeries. And she was pregnant. Four months pregnant, no longer manic, but too embarrassed to come home. It was too late to have an abortion, she didn’t want to give up her child, but she couldn’t go back to Hong Kong like that. She told me no one ever loved her like I did, and she begged me to marry her. Her parents begged me to marry her quickly in Hawaii. And so I did. We had one of those “intimate weddings with only close family” at the Halekulani in Waikiki.

  I want you to know that I went into this marriage with my eyes wide open. I saw the good in Isabel underneath her illness, and I desperately wanted to help her. When things were great, and when the full sunlight of her being shined on you, there was nothing like it. She was a magnetic, beautiful soul, and I was in love with that part of her. Or at least that’s what I told myself. I thought that if she had a stable husband by her side, a husband who could help her properly manage her mental health issues, everything would be okay.

  But things were not okay. After Chloe was born, the hormones really messed with Isabel, and she struggled with horrendous postpartum depression. She started hating me and blaming me for all her problems, and we stopped sleeping together. (I mean in the same bedroom, because we hadn’t been physically intimate since before she took off for Maui.) She only wanted the baby in the bedroom with her. And the nanny. It was an unusual arrangement, to say the least.

  One day she woke up and it was as if nothing had happened. I moved back into the bedroom, the nanny and Chloe went into their own room. Isabel was a loving wife for the first time in over a year. She went back to work, and we went back to being the social couple about town. I could focus a little more on my work again, and Wu Microsystems went through another terrific growth phase. Isabel became pregnant with Delphine, and I thought the worst was behind us.

  Then suddenly, things turned on a dime again. This time it was less dramatic—there was no sudden whirlwind romance with a mysterious stranger, no fleeing to Istanbul or the Isle of Skye. Instead, Isabel’s new behavior turned out to be more insidious and destructive. She claimed she was having secret affairs with married men. Three of them at her law firm—as you can imagine it made for insane office politics. She was also involved with a high-profile judge, whose wife found out about the affair and threatened to go public with everything. I will spare you the rest of this story, but by this point, Isabel and I were for all intents and purposes living totally separate lives. I was at the flat in the Mid-Levels, and she was at the house on The Peak with our daughters.

  When you came back into my life, I realized two things: First, that I never stopped loving you. You were my first love, and I have loved you since the day I met you at Fort Canning Church when we were fifteen. And second, I also realized that, unlike me, you had moved on. I saw how much you loved Michael, and how you wouldn’t give up on your marriage. I knew that I had been unfair to Isabel from the start—since I wasn’t truly over you, I had never given all of myself to her. But I was determined to change things. I was ready to let go of you at last, and that would be the key to saving my marriage, to saving Isabel. I wanted to be able to love her free and clear, and to love my daughters as much as you love Cassian.

  And so I redoubled my efforts, and you became my de facto marriage counselor. All those e-mails we’ve exchanged over the past two years were a beacon in the night for me as I tried to rebuild my marriage. But as you can clearly see, nothing has worked. The mistakes are all mine. Isabel and I might finally be heading to the bottom of the ocean once and for all, but it has been a long time coming.

  This is my rambling way of trying to explain to you that you should not feel a single ounce of regret about what happened between you and Isabel in Venice. And more important, I want you to know the real story, because I can no longer live with any dishonesty between us. I hope that you’ll be able to forgive me for not being truthful with you from the start. You are one of the few bright spots in my otherwise fucked-up life, and now more than ever, I count on our friendship.

  With all my heart,

  Charlie

  Charlie sat in front of his computer, reading over his e-mail again and again. It was almost 7:00 p.m. in Hong Kong. It would be high noon in Venice. Astrid would probably be having lunch poolside at the Cipriani. He took a deep breath, and then he hit the delete button.

  6

  CARLTON AND COLETTE

  SHANGHAI, CHINA

  “You have broken my heart. And I don’t know how it will ever heal,” she said in a pained voice.r />
  “I don’t understand why you are being like this,” Carlton groaned in Mandarin.

  “You don’t understand? You don’t realize how much you have hurt me? How can you be so cruel?”

  “Explain exactly how I am being cruel. Because I really don’t get it. I’m just trying to do the right thing.”

  “You have betrayed me. You have taken his side. And by doing this you have destroyed me.”

  “Oh Mother, don’t be so dramatic!” Carlton huffed into his phone.

  “I took you to Hong Kong to protect you. Don’t you see that? And you did the worst thing ever—you defied me and went back to Shanghai to meet that girl! That bastard girl!”

  Lying on his king-size bed in Shanghai, Carlton could practically feel the volcanic seething of his mother at the other end of the line in Hong Kong. He tried shifting to a calmer tone. “Her name is Rachel, and you are really overreacting. I actually think you’d like her a lot. And I’m not just saying that. She’s intelligent—far more intelligent than me—but she doesn’t put on any airs. She’s one hundred percent authentic.”

  Shaoyen snorted in derision. “You stupid, stupid boy. How did I ever raise a son who is that stupid? Don’t you see that the more you accept her, the more you stand to lose?”

  “Just what am I losing, Mother?”

  “Do I really have to spell it out for you? The very existence of this girl brings shame to our family. It tarnishes our name. Your name. Don’t you realize how people will see us when they discover that your father had an illegitimate daughter with some country girl who kidnapped her own baby and took it to America? Bao Gaoliang, the new hope of the party? All his enemies are just waiting to tear him down. Don’t you know how hard I have worked all my life to get our family to this position? Aiyah, God must be punishing me. I should never have sent you to England, where you got into so much trouble. That car accident knocked out every bit of sense from your brain!”

  Colette, who until this moment had been lying quietly beside Carlton, started giggling when she saw his look of exasperation. Carlton quickly put a pillow over her face.

  “I promise you, Mother, Rachel is not going to bring any shame to our…ouch…family.” He coughed, as Colette began jabbing him playfully in the ribs.

  “She already is! You are destroying your reputation by parading around Shanghai with that girl!”

  “I assure you, Mother, I haven’t done any parading,” Carlton said as he tickled Colette.

  “Fang Ai Lan’s son saw you at the Kee Club last night. How foolish of you to be seen with her at such a visible place!”

  “All types of people go to the Kee Club! That’s why we went there—she could be anyone there. Don’t worry, I’m telling everyone she’s the wife of my friend Nick. Nick went to Stowe too, so it’s a very convenient story.”

  Shaoyen wouldn’t let it go. “Fang Ai Lan told me she heard from her son that you were making a fool of yourself with a woman on each arm—Colette Bing and some girl he didn’t recognize. I didn’t dare say a thing!”

  “Ryan Fang is jealous because I was in the company of two beautiful women. He’s just bitter because his parents forced him to marry Bonnie Hui, who on a good day resembles a naked mole rat.”

  “Ryan Fang is a good son. He listened to his parents and did what was best for his family. And now he’s going to become the youngest party secretary in—”

  “I don’t really care if he’s the youngest man to rule Westeros and sit on the Iron Throne,”*1 Carlton said, cutting her off.

  “That Colette put you up to this, didn’t she? She’s the instigator! Colette knew I didn’t want you anywhere near Shanghai this week.”

  “Please leave Colette out of this. This has nothing to do with her.”

  Hearing her name, Colette climbed onto Carlton, straddled him, and peeled her top off. Carlton eyed her hungrily. God, he never tired of her miraculously sculpted breasts.

  “Ride ’em, cowboy!” she whispered. Carlton put his hand over her mouth, and she began biting into the flesh of his palm.

  “I know Colette has been influencing you. Ever since she became your girlfriend, you’ve been nothing but heartache to me.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you: She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends,” Carlton droned as Colette began grinding herself slowly against him.

  “That’s what you say. So where did you spend the night last night? Ai-Mei told me you haven’t been home in days.”

  “I have been spending time with my sister, and since you will not allow her to set foot in your house, I’ve had no choice but to stay with them at their hotel.” Carlton was actually holed up in the enormous Presidential suite at the Portman Ritz-Carlton, where he knew his mother’s spies would never look for him.

  “Oh my God, you are calling her your sister now!”

  “Mother, whether you like it or not, she is my sister.”

  “You are killing me slowly, son. You are killing me from the inside out.”

  “Yes, Mother, I know. I’ve heard it many times before: I’m such a disappointment, I have betrayed all my ancestors, you don’t know why you ever bore the pain of giving birth to me,” Carlton said, hanging up the phone.

  “My God, your mother really laid it on thick this time, didn’t she?” Colette said in English. (Of all her boyfriends, Carlton was the only one with a perfect posh British accent, and she found it so alluring to hear him use it.)

  Carlton groaned. “She had a huge row with my father last night and kicked him out of the flat—he ended up checking in to the Upper House at two in the morning. I guess she wanted to make me feel just as bad.”

  “Why should you feel bad? It’s not like you’re responsible for any of this.”

  “Precisely—my mother’s completely lost the plot! She’s so worried that Rachel is somehow going to ruin our family’s reputation, but her strange behavior is ruining her own reputation.”

  “She has been acting rather strange lately, hasn’t she? She used to like me.”

  “She still likes you,” Carlton said rather unconvincingly.

  “Uh-huh. I’m really buying that.”

  “Trust me, the only person she’s mad at right now is my father. She refused to leave Hong Kong, so when he said he was going back to Shanghai on his own, she told him that she would divorce him if he tried to see Rachel. She’s afraid they’ll be seen together in public and some scandal will erupt.”

  “Wow. It’s gotten that bad?”

  “It’s an empty threat. She’s just caught up in her anger.”

  “Why don’t I arrange a dinner for Rachel to secretly meet your father at my house? That’s not a public place.”

  “You just like causing trouble, don’t you?”

  “Am I the one causing trouble? I’m just being hospitable to your sister. It’s rather ridiculous that she’s been in Shanghai for over a week now and your father still hasn’t seen her. He was the one who invited her in the first place!”

  Carlton considered it for a moment. “We could try to arrange something. I’m not sure my father will come, though. He kicks and screams but he always ends up obeying every command of my mother’s.”

  “Leave it to me. I’ll call your father and tell him it’s an invitation from my dad. That way he won’t refuse, and he won’t be expecting Rachel to be there.”

  “You’re being awfully nice to Rachel and Nick.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? She’s your sister, and I’m enjoying them very much. They are such a different species. Rachel is cool, there’s no bullshit with her. And she’s a total banana,*2 isn’t she? Just look at how she dresses in those no-name brands, her painful lack of jewelry—she’s not like any Chinese girl I’ve ever met. Nick I’m still trying to figure out. Didn’t you say his parents were rich?”

  “I think they do okay, but I don’t get the impression they are that rich. The father used to be an engineer, and now he’s a sports fisherman. And Mrs. Young does day-trading, I think.�
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  “Well, he’s been very well brought up. He has this very particular sort of relaxed charisma, and his manners are impeccable. Have you noticed that whenever we’ve been in an elevator, he always lets all the women exit first?”

  “So?”

  “That’s the mark of a true gentleman. And I know he didn’t get that from Stowe, since your manners are barbaric!”

  “Fuck you! You just like him because you think he looks like that Korean heartthrob you like.”

  “How cute—are you jealous? Don’t worry, I have no interest in stealing Nick from your sister. What is he, a university professor?”

  “He teaches history.”

  Colette giggled. “A history professor and an economics professor. Can you imagine what their children will be like? I don’t know why your mother would ever feel threatened by these people.”

  Carlton sighed. Deep down, he knew exactly why his mother was behaving the way she was. It really had nothing to do with Rachel and everything to do with his accident. She had never spoken to him about what he had done, but he knew that the stress of that tragedy had changed his mother irretrievably. She had always been short-tempered, but ever since London, she had become more irrational than he had ever known her to be. If he could just turn back the clock on that night. That fucking night that had ruined his life. He rolled over onto his side, facing away from Colette.

  Colette could see that the black cloud had descended over Carlton again. It was happening so quickly these days. One minute they would be having the most brilliant time, and then suddenly he would just disappear into a pit of despair. Trying to snap him out of his funk, she unbuttoned the last few buttons of his shirt and began to trace circles around his navel. “I love it when you get all pouty and smoldering on me,” she whispered in his ear.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”