“Absolutely not,” Juliette snapped, before any of the Scarlets could decide that Tyler’s interruption meant their opinion should be heard by the whole table too. “This is not a show ticket. This is a vaccine that decides between life and death.”
“And what about it?” Tyler asked. “You wish for us to protect the White Flowers? Protect the foreigners who do not even see us as people? The last time the madness went around, Juliette, they did not care until it was them who were dying, because a Chinese collapsing on the streets may as well be an animal—”
“I know!”
Juliette inhaled sharply, regaining her poise. She had to get her points in quick. Her mother’s jaw was tight, watching the argument spiral, and if it deteriorated any further, Lady Cai was going to shut this down.
Juliette breathed out. Let the brief silence ebb around her, so that she was in control of the conversation and not desperately chasing the end of it.
“It is not about extending our kindness to those in the city who don’t deserve it,” she said. “It is about mass protection.”
Tyler pushed off from the table and plopped back onto his seat. He hung an arm along the back of his chair while Juliette remained standing.
“Why do we need mass protection?” Tyler asked, scoffing. “Let us make money. Let us rise so impenetrably to the top that we are untouchable, and then, as we have always done, we extend protection to our people. To the Scarlets. Everyone else falling away matters not. Everyone else dying out is to our advantage.”
“You would be risking Scarlet lives in the process. You cannot guarantee their safety like that.”
Despite her unflinching insistence, Juliette could feel her credibility slipping away. She was trying to stake her logic on the sanctity of one life saved as something worthy of all sacrifice, but this was the Scarlet Gang, and the Scarlet Gang did not care for such sentimental notions.
One of the Scarlets seated beside Lord Cai cleared his throat. Seeing that it was Mr. Ping, who Juliette usually liked, she looked to him and nodded, prompting him to go on.
“Where is the funding going to come from?” Mr. Ping asked. He winced. “Surely not us?”
Juliette threw her arms up. Why else would she bother to stand here, bleating the advantages of a free vaccine, if not for the funds of the Scarlet Gang’s inner circle? “We can afford it.”
Mr. Ping’s eyes darted about the table. He mopped his damp forehead. “We are not a charity for the weak and poor.”
“This is a city built on labor,” Juliette said coldly. “If madness tears through the streets once again, we are only as safe as the weakest and poorest. They fall, and we fall too. Do you forget who runs your factories? Do you forget how your shops open every morning?”
The table fell silent, but nobody jumped to put in their acknowledgment of her point. They merely shifted their gazes away and remained mum, until the silence extended for long enough that Lady Cai was forced to tap her fingers on the spinning glass and say, “Juliette, take a seat, would you? Perhaps this would be a better discussion once we actually make a vaccine.”
A beat later, Lord Cai nodded his agreement. “Yes. We shall decide if this research proves useful. Run it to the lab in Chenghuangmiao tomorrow and see what we can find.”
Begrudgingly, Juliette nodded her acceptance of the decision and eased back into her seat. Her mother was quick to change the topic and put the Scarlets at ease again. As Juliette reached for the teapot, her eyes met Tyler’s across the table, and he grinned.
“Allez, souris!” he said. His fast switch into French was to prevent the other Scarlets from understanding him, save for Rosalind and Kathleen, but even without knowing what he was saying, anyone could tell by his manner, his expression, his tone that he was goading Juliette and announcing his victory in a tug-of-war for favor. The simple fact that he had not been shot down on an idea that went starkly against Juliette’s, that her parents seemed to consider it on equal basis—indeed, Tyler had won.
“Je t’avertis . . . ,” Juliette snapped.
“What?” Tyler shot back, still in French. “You’re warning me of what, dearest cousin?”
It took everything in Juliette not to pick up her teacup and throw it right at him. “Stop playing god upon my plans. Stop intruding upon matters that have naught to do with you—”
“Your plans are always flawed. I am trying to help you out,” Tyler interrupted. His smile fell, and Juliette tensed, reading immediately what was coming next. “Look at how your last one turned out. In your whole time tricking the White Flower heir, what information did you gather from him?”