Chapter 11

The slippery column of flesh rubbed against her navel and the inside of her thighs. Bodily fluids spread, staining her skin.

“You didn’t c*m—just as you wished,”

the spitefully slow words dripped sticky into her ears. Taeheon moved his hand as he glared at Yaein; the sound he made was even louder than when he had been touching her before.

“Haah, ugh…”

Her breathing came out rough and uneven. s*men was splattered onto her lower abdomen. Yaein trembled as if she had been *jaculated inside.

Taeheon gathered the s*men flowing over her pristine white stomach. His fingers, wet with milky fluid, slid between her legs.

Her underwear was yanked down. As Yaein startled and flailed, Taeheon pinned her upper body down. With her weight pressed against his heavy, muscular chest, her breath gradually became restricted.

“Is this… s*x too?”

His now even lower, rasping voice sounded as vulgar as the earlier sound of splashing water.

His thick fingers filled her v*ginal walls. The motion—as if he were spreading out the s*men inside her—made her waist tremble.

“Damn it.” When she glared at him with maddened eyes, Taeheon moved even more persistently. He gently rolled her exposed cl*toris with his tongue, a sign of his *rousal.

She felt a w*tness building from within. When he moved inside her, the sound of splashing became nearly audible. His fingers plunged in forcefully, and her secretions splattered onto her thighs.

“Stop, ah, no… ah!”

The climax that had been gradually building suddenly hit hard; in an instant, her vision went blank.

Gasping to replenish her lack of oxygen and pushing his heavy upper body away, Taeheon finally thrust his body.

With her skirt pulled down and her head bowed, trembling, Taeheon stared at Yaein with deep, dark eyes. It seemed as if everything was being revealed once again.

“You said you didn’t want it, yet your underwear is soaking wet.”

At the sight of him crumpling the silk underwear he had just removed and drawing in a breath to show it off, Yaein unconsciously tried to cling to Taeheon.

“Let me use it a bit.”

Watching his hand—failing to reach her and dropping weakly—Taeheon then wiped his c*ck, now slick with s*men, off Yaein’s underwear.

The light-blue silk was smeared with clotted s*men. Her c*ck, still not completely flaccid, remained enveloped in her underwear, revealing patches of its dark red surface. A piece of fabric no larger than her palm couldn’t possibly cover it all.

As she watched him slowly massage and squeeze his c*ck, Yaein rose with a resentful look. Although water continued to drip through the narrow gap with a shrill sound, thankfully her skirt provided some cover.

Even as she forced herself to walk as if nothing were wrong, her heart pounded wildly, fearing that Taeheon might grab her again. She wasn’t sure she could push him away if he touched her once more.

She sensed a piercing gaze—Taeheon, seated on the sofa, was staring at her with a relentless intensity.

She longed to confirm if that was truly what he was doing, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back.

When she finally reached the bathroom, her legs trembled. After locking the door and huddling in the shower stall, Yaein splashed her face repeatedly with cold water.

Her s*xual desire had heated her skin to an almost numbing level. Her entire body ached as if stricken by a severe flu.

Yaein crossed her arms and hugged her shoulders tightly.

She trembled, realizing once again that she was still irresistibly drawn to Kwon Taeheon.

While waiting for the heat in her body to subside, Yaein hesitantly let her hand slip between her legs. Though she muttered “No” over and over, Taeheon’s touch kept coming back—the very touch that made her cry, that drove her mad.

Yaein’s eyes closed. Her long eyelashes trembled, casting shifting shadows across her cheeks.

***

Hospitals always reminded Yaein of her grandmother.  

As she crossed the pristine white corridor and stepped into the elevator, a strange illusion washed over her—like she was on her way to see her grandmother again.  

‘But she was gone.’ 

Her grandmother had passed away just months before Yaein’s secret was exposed. Was it a blessing that she had been spared the humiliation her granddaughter endured?  

Still, if she had passed after the truth had come out, at least Yaein could have given her a proper funeral.  

She wouldn’t have had to hide in the crowd, unable to stand beside her grandmother’s coffin like a real mourner.  

That regret still cuts deep.  

Her grandmother had never attended her wedding. She had spent her final days worrying about the granddaughter she left behind.  

The elevator finally came to a stop at the top floor—where only the most luxurious private rooms were.  

Thanks to Taeheon, her grandmother had spent her last moments in one of these suites. Yaein had practically lived at the hospital back then.  

By day, she smiled through social events as if there was nothing wrong in her life. By night, she would drive out to the hospital, sit by her grandmother’s bedside, and hold her hand.  

When her grandmother, fingers adorned with a simple wedding ring, had stroked Yein’s hand and said, ‘I’m relieved you married a good man,’ 

—for a fleeting moment, Yaein had almost believed it.  

Ironically, the only times she ever felt good about her marriage were when she was away  from her husband.  

With Taeheon, there was always thirst. Always loneliness.  

And now, there was no one left to convince her that this marriage had been a good idea.  

For a brief second, she imagined opening the door and seeing her grandmother’s warm, wrinkled smile waiting for her.  

But the solid-colored door remained firmly shut, rejecting her entry.  

A gatekeeper stood before it, someone who could turn her away at a moment’s notice.  

Yaein bowed slightly in greeting.  

“Good afternoon.”

“Ah, Lady Yaein, good afternoon.” 

The man, startled, glanced toward the door. He knew her.  

Kim, the chief of security. He had been her father-in-law’s personal guard for years. His rough appearance belied his polite demeanor.  

“Did you schedule a visit in advance?”

“I let them know I’d be coming. May I go in?”

Kim hesitated.  

“Well… The chairman’s condition is…”

He trailed off, then quickly added, “I should go inside and ask him first.”

Yaein called out to him softly before he could move.  

“Mr. Kim.” 

He stopped.  

Yaein met his gaze.  

“I’ll take responsibility for this. It’s the last time he’ll ever have to see me. Please… just this once.”

Kim hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

The people closest to Chairman Kwon Sung-hwan, Taeheon’s father, were fiercely loyal—perhaps excessively so. The same could be said for Taeheon’s subordinates. 

Maybe it was because they weren’t just *employees* in the traditional sense. No one had ever explained it to Yaein outright, but after years of living with her husband, she could sense it. The way they conducted themselves, the way they responded to commands—it was clear that their hierarchy was stricter, more rigid than a simple corporate structure.  

She had grown accustomed to their presence. Over time, she understood that displeasing their superiors wasn’t just a matter of losing a paycheck—it was something far more dangerous.  

But today, Yaein wasn’t willing to back down.  

“If I get turned away at the door today, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.”

Kim’s expression darkened.  

As the chairman’s closest aide, he had witnessed everything Yaein had endured over the past year.  

After a long pause, he let out a quiet sigh and stepped aside.  

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

Kim hesitated before adding in a cautious tone,  

“Madam Yaein… does the young master know you’re here?”

Yaein shook her head.  

“No. He doesn’t know yet.”

“The chairman will scold me, and that’s fine. But if the young master finds out… Please put in a good word for me.”

There was an unmistakable wariness in his voice.  

She had seen it before.  

Grown men—men old enough to be Taeheon’s seniors—seemed to tread carefully around him, *afraid* of him.  

It was a strange feeling.  

They feared him just as much as they treated Yaein with careful respect.  

At least, back when everyone still believed she was the wealthy daughter of an esteemed family.  

Even her mother-in-law had once treated her with deference.  

That was before everything fell apart.  

***

“Hello, Mother.”*

Yaein stepped into the hospital room and bowed politely.  

The moment she appeared, the older woman’s face hardened.  

“Oh, look who it is.”

Her lips, painted a bold shade of red, curled slightly.  

She was in her fifties, but her heavy makeup and perfectly styled hair made her appear much younger.  

Despite the expensive clothing, something about her presence felt *off*. Perhaps it was the way her flashy appearance clashed with the setting.  

This was Park Gyeong-ju—Yaein’s mother-in-law.  

Once a well-known singer in the provinces, Gyeong-ju still carried herself with the flair of someone used to being on stage.  

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” 

Her voice was sharp, cutting through the sterile air of the hospital room.  

She immediately turned toward Kim.  

“How are you even letting her in? Kim!”

Yein stepped in before he could answer.  

“Don’t blame Mr. Kim. He told me I wasn’t allowed, but I insisted.”

“Oh, you insisted?”

Gyeong-ju let out a short, humorless laugh.  

“So what? You know *no one* here wants to see you, and yet you still forced your way in?”

Her neatly drawn brows arched in irritation.  

Yaein stood firm. She didn’t flinch.

The VIP hospital room Chairman Kwon Seong-hwan occupied came with a private lounge. Since Yaein had deliberately chosen to visit around noon, she had anticipated running into her mother-in-law. In fact, part of the reason for her visit today was to see her.  

“What, did you come here to brag about playing the dutiful daughter-in-law? You think the chairman’s going to be thrilled to see you? Did you come just to ruin my day?”

“I just thought it was right to check on him and pay my respects. It’s been a while.”

To be precise, the last time she saw him was during Chuseok. That had been the first holiday after her secret was exposed. The chairman hadn’t even let her finish a proper greeting before attempting to throw her out barefoot. That was also the first time she had ever seen Taeheon raise his voice and argue with his father.  

“I heard about his hospitalization, but knowing he wouldn’t want to see me, I stayed away. They said he needed absolute rest… I didn’t want to disturb him.”

They both knew this already, but she said it aloud anyway.  

Even after hearing of Seong-hwan’s hospitalization, Yaein hadn’t visited. Gyeong-ju never mentioned it to her either. Likely, she never expected or wanted Yaein to come. This scolding now was nothing but an excuse to pick a fight.  

“Your excuses are so smooth. If you were really that considerate, why are you suddenly showing up now?”

“I heard he’s doing a little better. And I have something I need to say.”

“What’s so important that you have to say it now? Don’t go raising his blood pressure—if you must talk, wait until he’s discharged.”

“I’m divorcing him.”

Yaein’s voice was calm, yet the words landed like a stone in the middle of a still pond.  

“Divorce?”

Gyeong-ju, who had been glaring at her with a sneer, momentarily stiffened.  

For someone who had constantly drilled *Divorce him. Let Taeheon go.* into Yein’s ears like a curse, her reaction was oddly subdued.  

“He’ll be glad to hear it. I just need to say a few words and then I’ll leave, Mother.”

“……”

“This will be the last time I see you too.”

“Oh, so you really came prepared.”

Gyeong-ju’s voice took on a mocking edge.  

“I always thought you were just some naive girl, but now I see—you’re shameless.”

Yaein remained silent.  

“Do you even know that your husband gave me an earful? He thinks I beat you every time I see you.”

She had suspected as much when Taeheon told her she didn’t need to see his mother anymore. But even knowing that, she had still worried.  

People might scoff, saying she was pathetic for caring about someone who had mistreated her, but Yaein couldn’t bring herself to hate Gyeong-ju.  

Maybe because, for a time, she had been the closest thing to family Yaein had.