JIAH POV
"Jiah."
The voice stops me mid-step.
Deep. Familiar. Calm in a way that instantly pulls me back ten years whether I want it or not.
I turn slowly.
He's standing near the concrete pillar beside the entrance lights, one shoulder leaning against it like he's been there long enough to get comfortable. The shadow cuts across half his face, but I'd recognize that posture anywhere.
Jeonhwa.
The moment I see him, everything inside me snaps.
The tears I've been holding back all day rush out so fast my vision blurs instantly, and before I even realize what I'm doing my knees bend and I crouch down right there on the pavement.
My hands cover my face while the sobs tear out of my chest like something breaking loose after being trapped too long.
Footsteps hit the ground fast.
Jeonhwa is in front of me within seconds, crouching down so quickly his coat brushes the concrete as his hands grip my shoulders.
"Hey, hey," he says sharply, leaning closer to look at my face. "What the hell happened to you?"
I try to answer but the words refuse to form, my chest shaking while another wave of tears spills out.
"Why are you crying like this?" he presses, his voice rougher now. "Talk to me."
I shake my head because I can't even get a proper sentence out without choking on it.
His jaw tightens.
"Fucking talk to me, Jiah."
The frustration in his voice cuts through the noise in my head enough for the words to finally spill out.
"Enhyeok is a jerk."
Jeonhwa's eyebrows shoot up immediately.
"What did he do?"
I wipe my face roughly with the sleeve of my coat, breathing hard while I try to get control of myself.
The story pours out in pieces while I sit there on the pavement like an idiot, explaining the resignation letter, the contract clause, the three billion won sitting inside it like a loaded gun.
Jeonhwa listens without interrupting, his expression getting darker with every sentence.
"That jerk," he mutters when I finish, his teeth grinding slightly. "How the hell can he act like this?"
I let out a hollow laugh that sounds ugly even to my own ears.
"Because he can."
Jeonhwa grabs my wrist suddenly and pulls me to my feet with a firm grip, his face set in a way I've only seen a few times before.
"Just give the money and leave that company."
The words hit me so hard I almost laugh again.
"I don't have that much money."
"I know," he says immediately. "But I do."
I stare at him.
"It's just pocket money for me."
My mouth opens in disbelief.
"Are you joking right now?"
"Of course not," he replies without hesitation. "Why the hell would I joke about something like that?"
He shrugs like we're talking about buying coffee instead of billions.
"I'll give it to you. You don't have to pay me back."
I shake my head instantly.
"I can't do that."
His brows pull together.
"Why not?"
"If he can control me like this he will know where that money came from," I say, my voice turning sharp again. "And he won't accept it if it's from you."
Jeonhwa stares at me for a long moment.
"Then what should we do?"
I take a slow breath.
"I'll do the job."
His eyes narrow slightly.
"And break that fucker."
Jeonhwa lets out a short breath that almost sounds like a laugh.
"You are unbelievably stubborn."
I don't answer him.
Headlights suddenly sweep across the street as a car pulls up near the entrance, the engine cutting off while the familiar black sedan settles into the parking spot.
Jeonhwa glances over his shoulder and immediately recognizes the vehicle.
"I'll call you later," he says quickly.
Before I can respond he steps back into the shadows beside the pillar, slipping away toward the side path just as the car doors open.
Bora and Haerin climb out.
"Jiah?" Bora calls immediately, spotting me standing there.
She walks over fast, Haerin right behind her, both of them scanning my face like they already know something went wrong.
"What happened?" Bora demands.
I exhale slowly and explain everything again.
Bora's reaction is instant.
"The hell?" she explodes, her voice echoing across the quiet street. "How can he be that cruel?"
Haerin's expression tightens.
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I have to do the job," I say flatly.
Bora's head snaps toward me.
"The hell were you looking at when you read the contract?"
I glare at her.
"Trust me, I didn't see any of those clauses in that contract," I snap. "Do you fucking believe I would sign legal shit without reading it?"
My chest rises sharply while I stare at her.
"Am I stupid to you?"
Haerin folds her arms.
"Then what is this clause?"
Bora exhales slowly, anger still burning in her eyes.
"That fucker knows exactly what he's doing," she mutters. "He's playing something strategic."
Haerin nods.
"He's clever."
I let out a bitter laugh.
"He knew where I was going to work," I say quietly. "I told him a hundred times in school that I wanted to join Daeyeon Holdings one day."
My jaw tightens.
"It was my fucking dream."
Bora's expression darkens.
"And you were saying that to the actual heir without even knowing it."
The realization sits heavy in the air.
"He manipulated you," Bora says flatly.
The anger inside me spikes again so fast I have to clench my fists.
"Let me talk to that bastard tomorrow," Bora suddenly declares.
I look at her.
"For what?"
"He was my friend too," she says firmly. "And I believe that fucker will listen to me."
Haerin nods beside her in agreement.
I stare at them for a second before letting out a quiet breath.
Deep down I already know the truth.
That bastard Isn't going to hear her .
________________
ENHYEOK POV
The punching bag swings back toward me.
I drive my fist into it again.
Leather snaps under the impact, the chain above it rattling against the steel hook while the bag jerks sideways and comes back for another hit.
Sweat runs down my spine, tracing the muscles across my back before disappearing into the waistband of my training pants.
The city spreads out beyond the glass wall of the penthouse gym. Seoul at night is nothing but lights and moving shadows.
I barely look at it.
My focus stays on the bag.
Another punch lands. Harder this time.
The door behind me opens quietly, the sound almost swallowed by the music humming through the speakers. Only one person in this building walks in without announcing himself.
Mr. Lim.
I throw one last strike before stepping back, rolling my shoulders while the bag continues swinging in slow circles.
"What is it."
Mr. Lim stops a few steps behind me, tablet held against his chest like always. His voice remains perfectly neutral.
"The heir of Seoryeon Group was spotted near Ms. Seo's apartment building tonight."
I grab the towel from the bench and drag it across my face, wiping the sweat away before tossing it aside.
"What did he say to her."
Mr. Lim glances at the tablet.
"The reports say he offered her money."
A quiet laugh slips out of my throat.
The sound surprises even me.
"Did she accept."
"No, sir."
For a moment the room goes still.
Then the laugh comes again, deeper this time, something colder underneath it.
"She knows that's the better thing to do."
I walk toward the glass wall and pick up the bottle of water waiting on the counter, taking a slow drink while the city flickers beneath my feet thirty floors down.
Three billion won.
Kim Jeonhwa really came prepared.
Mr. Lim remains silent behind me, the man smart enough not to fill empty space with useless words.
I set the bottle down and rest my hands on the counter, staring out at the lights for a few seconds.
"Make sure no one knows we're watching her."
"Of course not, sir. The surveillance is fully secured."
Good.
Because the last thing I need is Seo Jiah realizing how many eyes follow her steps.
I turn slightly, leaning back against the counter.
Jeonhwa offering her money is not surprising. That bastard always had a habit of inserting himself where he doesn't belong. The part that matters is that she refused it.
A corner of my mouth lifts.
Predictable.
If she had taken his money, the game would have ended tonight.
But Seo Jiah has always had that stupid pride carved into her bones.
The same pride that made her walk away ten years ago like she was doing me a favor.
The same pride that walked into my office yesterday wearing those heels like she was marching into a battlefield.
I tilt my head slightly, remembering the way her hand trembled when she dropped the resignation letter on my desk.
Interesting.
Mr. Lim speaks again carefully.
"Should we intervene if the Seoryeon heir approaches her again."
"No."
The answer comes immediately.
"That would ruin the entertainment."
Mr. Lim says nothing.
I push away from the counter and walk back toward the punching bag, grabbing the wraps from the bench and tightening them around my knuckles.
Jeonhwa thinks throwing money into the situation will solve it.
That man still believes problems can be bought.
A mistake.
Because money is not the hook in this situation.
The hook is already buried where it needs to be.
Deep.
Legal.
Impossible to pull out without tearing everything apart.
Three billion won is nothing to men like us.
But a contract is something else entirely.
I tighten the wrap around my wrist and flex my hand once before looking at my reflection in the dark glass.
Jeonhwa might have offered her three billion.
He might even have ten times that ready if he feels like playing hero.
It doesn't matter.
Because the hook is in my hand.
And I decide who bleeds next.
----------
Morning settles over the executive floor in its usual silence.
Sunlight cuts through the floor-to-ceiling glass behind my desk, spilling across polished marble and the dark surface of the conference table while the city slowly wakes thirty floors below.
The office is already running when I step in, assistants moving quietly outside the glass walls like shadows trained not to disturb the air.
I loosen the cuffs of my shirt and sit down, opening the first report of the day.
Numbers, acquisitions, projections.
The kind of things that actually matter.
The door remains closed, the space around me perfectly controlled, and for a while the only sound in the room is the quiet turning of paper and the occasional buzz of my phone against the desk.
Then the screen lights up.
A notification from Ms. Seo appears at the top of the display.
She has sent a message through the internal system informing me that someone is waiting to see me and requesting permission to send them in.
The wording is professional, precise, and just polite enough to pass as corporate etiquette.
I stare at the message for a second.
Yesterday she could barely look at me without shaking.
Today she is back to work.
Good.
I tap the notification and the visitor profile opens on the screen, the company security system automatically pulling up the registered information submitted at the lobby desk.
A photograph loads first.
Then the details slide into place beneath it.
Han Bora.
The file lists her position and company affiliation with the clean formatting of the corporate database, the name sitting there in black text like it belongs in my building.
My eyes pause on it for half a second.
Then the corner of my mouth shifts slightly.
Han Bora.?
Intresting.