JIAH POV
I'm sitting on a cold metal bench outside the café with my elbows on my knees, trying to breathe normally like I didn't just embarrass myself two minutes ago.
The night air feels colder now that the adrenaline is gone, and I can still feel the faint warmth of Jeonhwa's coat where my face had been pressed like some emotional idiot who lost control in public.
God, that was humiliating.
I pulled away from him before even a full minute passed, wiping my face quickly like nothing happened while he just stood there watching me with that calm expression of his that always feels a little too observant.
Now he's sitting beside me.
Anyway, forget about what happened.
The words leave my mouth fast as I stare straight ahead at the quiet street, pretending the pavement in front of us is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
Jeonhwa lets out a low chuckle beside me.
"You didn't even tell me why you cried," he says casually, leaning back against the bench like he has all the time in the world.
"It's nothing," I reply immediately.
He studies my face for a moment, then simply nods like he already expected that answer and isn't planning to push it tonight.
The silence between us settles into something oddly comfortable.
"So," I say after a moment, turning slightly toward him. "How's your Seoryeon Empire going these days?"
He immediately makes the most dramatic, tragic face I've ever seen.
"Not as impressive as Daeyeon," he says with exaggerated sorrow, one hand pressed to his chest like a defeated nobleman in a historical drama.
I snort.
"Poor you," I say dryly. "When is your coronation as CEO, Mr. Heir?"
His lips curl into a slow smirk.
"Soon."
I lean back on the bench and cross my arms, tilting my head toward him.
"Did the market explode already?" I ask. "Or are investors still waiting to see if the heir of Seoryeon can survive one full week without burning the company down?"
He laughs.
"When Enhyeok became CEO a few days ago the market broke a record," he says, shaking his head slightly. "I doubt I can beat that."
My gaze shifts to him.
"Why weren't you even surprised when Enhyeok was revealed as the Daeyeon heir?" I ask, watching his face carefully.
Jeonhwa doesn't answer immediately.
Instead he stretches his arms behind his head like he's relaxing after a long day and glances at me from the corner of his eye.
Then he smirks.
"Are you hungry?"
I stare at him.
"Yes," I say after a second.
He stands up immediately.
"Good," he says casually, offering his hand to pull me up from the bench.
I take it.
Ten minutes later we're walking down a quiet street lined with small restaurants, the warm glow of lights spilling onto the sidewalk while people talk and laugh inside.
The familiar red sign of my favorite late-night restaurant appears at the corner, and Jeonhwa pushes the door open like he already knew exactly where he was bringing me.
The smell of food hits instantly.
I glance at him.
He only smiles.
And suddenly I have a very strange feeling this night is nowhere near finished.
______________
ENHYEOK POV
The car moves through the city without stopping, the steady hum of the engine filling the quiet space while the streetlights slide across the dark interior like slow moving shadows.
I sit in the back seat with one arm resting against the door, my gaze fixed on the passing buildings while the image from ten minutes ago lingers in the back of my mind.
Ms. Seo wrapped in another man's arms beneath a streetlight.
The corner of my mouth shifts slightly as the thought settles, because the truth is painfully simple and not worth pretending otherwise.
She can hug whoever she wants and cry on whoever's shoulder she chooses, because none of that has anything to do with me.
It's not my problem.
Mr. Lim keeps driving for another block before he speaks again, his voice calm and respectful the way it always is. "The Seoryeon heir's coronation should happen soon."
My eyes shift toward the window again.
A slow smirk appears.
"I'm waiting for that day," I reply.
Mr. Lim glances at me briefly through the rearview mirror before returning his attention to the road. "The market will react strongly when Seoryeon officially changes leadership."
"They will," I say calmly, watching the lights flicker past the glass. "Seoryeon has always relied on stability more than ambition, so investors will be curious to see whether Kim Jeonhwa plans to maintain that or dismantle it."
Mr. Lim nods slightly.
"Do you think he will challenge Daeyeon directly?"
A quiet laugh escapes me.
"If he's smart, he will," I say evenly. "Otherwise there would be no point in becoming CEO at all."
The car slows as we enter the private road leading toward my building, the towering glass structure rising into the night like a silent monument to wealth and power.
The security gates open automatically when the sensors recognize the vehicle, allowing us to drive straight into the underground entrance without interruption.
A few minutes later the car stops.
Mr. Lim steps out first and opens the rear door, waiting quietly as I exit the vehicle and straighten the cuffs of my coat.
"I'll see you tomorrow, sir," he says.
"Drive safely."
He nods once before returning to the car and disappearing back into the night while I walk toward the elevator alone.
The penthouse door unlocks with a soft mechanical click.
Inside, the apartment is silent.
I loosen my tie as I walk across the polished floor, the city skyline stretching across the massive windows while the lights of Seoul glow like a living organism beneath the glass.
My jacket lands over the back of a chair.
My shirt follows.
The shower water runs hot against my skin, steam filling the bathroom while the tension of the day slowly washes away beneath the steady stream.
But the image refuses to leave.
Her arms around him.
Her face pressed against his chest.
My jaw tightens slightly as I shut the water off and step out, grabbing a towel before walking back into the bedroom while droplets slide slowly down my spine.
She looked comfortable there.
Too comfortable.
The phone on the nightstand lights up when I pick it up, the contact list opening automatically while the quiet room waits in silence.
My thumb taps her name.
The call rings once.
Twice.
Three times.
She answers on the last ring.
"Hello?"
Her voice sounds cautious.
"Bring me the Daeyeon Global audit file," I say calmly.
There's a pause on the other side of the line.
"Mr. Director," she replies slowly, "it's past ten."
I lean back against the couch, one arm resting across the backrest while the city lights flicker through the window behind me.
"According to the contract you signed," I say evenly, "the employee must remain available to the employer twenty-four hours a day."
Silence fills the call.
Even without seeing her face I can practically feel the anger rising through the phone line.
"Aren't you crossing a line?" she asks coldly.
My smile widens slightly.
"In half an hour, Ms. Seo."
The call ends.
I toss the phone onto the couch beside me and lean back slowly, staring out at the city while the quiet stretches through the penthouse like a waiting game.
There is no way I'm letting her walk freely through the night with him.
Not tonight.
Not anymore.
There's no way I'm giving you peace, Ms. Seo.
_________________
JIAH POV
The elevator climbs toward the top floor while the quiet hum of the machinery fills the narrow space around me.
My reflection stares back from the mirrored walls, hair slightly messy from the cold wind outside and eyes still a little red from earlier.
Jeonhwa insisted on dropping me here the moment I stood up in the middle of dinner and said I had to leave.
He didn't ask many questions.
He only watched me for a moment before grabbing his coat and walking me to the car like it was the most normal thing in the world for someone to abandon dinner halfway through.
The elevator doors slide open.
The executive penthouse hallway is silent and brightly lit, polished marble stretching across the floor while the large glass windows reveal the city lights glowing far below.
I walk toward his door and press the bell.
No answer.
I wait a few seconds before pressing it again, my patience already thin after the entire ridiculous night.
Still nothing.
My eyes drop to the keypad beside the door.
The password.
My fingers hover there for a second before instinct moves faster than logic, punching in the numbers I memorized .
The door unlocks with a soft beep.
I push it open.
He's sitting on the couch.
Black shirt. Black pajama pants. One arm resting lazily across the backrest while the city lights spill through the massive windows behind him, casting long shadows across the room.
I scoff quietly under my breath.
Walking inside, I place the tablet on the table in front of him.
"This is the file you asked for, Mr. Director," I say evenly before giving a brief professional bow.
I turn around.
"Did I tell you to leave?"
His voice stops me mid-step.
I slowly turn back toward him.
"As far as I know," I reply calmly, "Korean law suggests women should not be wandering around the city close to midnight unnecessarily. It's almost eleven-thirty, so I believe it would be reasonable for me to go home."
His eyes remain fixed on me.
"You will leave when I tell you to leave," he says quietly. "And I will decide when that happens."
A sharp laugh escapes my mouth.
"Aren't you bullying me in the name of a fucking contract?"
His gaze darkens slightly.
"Language."
I laugh again.
"Language?" I repeat with disbelief. "That's what you're worried about right now?"
He slowly stands up.
The shift in height alone changes the atmosphere of the room as he walks toward me with slow, deliberate steps that stop just a few feet away.
"You seem to have developed quite the audacity lately," he says coldly. "Insulting your employer in his own home."
I cross my arms.
"Yes, I do," I say bluntly. "What are you going to do about it, Mr. Director? Fire me?"
His lips curve slightly.
"Fire you?" he repeats slowly. "That's never going to happen."
I raise an eyebrow.
"Not even in your dreams," he continues calmly. "You will stay exactly where you are, Ms. Seo, and you will continue doing everything I tell you to do."
My jaw tightens.
"Why are you doing this?"
His head tilts slightly.
"Why?" he repeats. "You don't like it?"
"Is this your form of revenge for the breakup?" I shoot back.
The word hangs in the air between us.
His expression doesn't change.
"Breakup?" he says slowly.
My patience finally snaps.
"Oh, stop pretending like you don't know what I'm talking about," I say sharply. "I'm so sick and tired of that act."
Something dark flashes across his eyes.
"You've been dragging this 'past' nonsense into every conversation since the moment we met again," he says coldly.
"Yes," I snap. "The fucking past between you and me."
His gaze turns sharp.
"Even if there was a past," he says slowly, "you do not belong in my life."