Chapter 15

“Is there anyone who can stop your father when he says no?”

So, of course, she brought up his father. And she wasn’t wrong. Kwon Seonghwan was a man who, once he made up his mind, would see it through to the end—removing any obstacles if necessary.  

“She’s lucky she was able to walk away on her own two feet. The fact that there’s no child involved is a miracle. If he weren’t sick, he would’ve torn her apart himself. If there had been a child, he would’ve just taken the baby and thrown her out.”*  

If things had escalated to that point, even Gyeongju would have found it hard to watch. 

After all, who was Kwon Seonghwan?  

A man who started as a back-alley loan shark in a small southern town and clawed his way to Seoul’s prime real estate through sheer ruthlessness and calculation.  

Now, even the wealthy wives who used to look down on him were subtly trying to get on his good side. Unlike those who cared about appearances, Chairman Kwon had no sense of morality when it came to getting what he wanted.  

Taeheon, who had grown up enduring his father’s cruelty, would know this better than anyone.  

He sat leaning against the desk, half his face shrouded in shadow. Looking at his vacant, emotionless expression, Gyeongju felt a familiar chill creep up her spine.  

“What the hell are you thinking?”

She wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him. Just like that day, when she had wanted to snap at the young Taeheon, who had been staring at a carcass crawling with maggots as if he were mesmerized.  

“Let her go.”

The words slipped out, driven by a mounting sense of unease.  

The image of Yaein’s pale face flashed through her mind—the way she had stubbornly insisted on seeing them one last time to say goodbye, only to be driven away with harsh words, looking as though she might collapse at any moment. 

That was the terrifying thing about attachment. 

*Divorce her.”

Taeheon didn’t even glance at her.

“You’re doing this because you pity her, aren’t you? Divorce is the best option for Yaein too.”

Gyeongju softened her tone. Taeheon finally turned his gaze toward her, his lips parting slightly.  

“Why should I do what’s best for her?”

His voice was cold, devoid of any warmth.

Gyeongju rubbed her forehead as she stood. She still couldn’t figure out what was broken inside him.  

“My warning still stands.”

Just as she was about to leave, Taeheon spoke quietly.  

“Considering Father’s condition, shouldn’t you start being more careful? You should spend your remaining years in peace.”

“You—”

No matter what, she was still his legal mother. How dare he speak to her like that?  

She opened her mouth to rebuke him but fell silent the moment she met his gaze.

Taeheon was watching her.

It was as if he had been waiting for this exact reaction—as if he were a hunter watching a trapped rat panic.

Even if she were to collapse on the spot, foaming at the mouth, he would still wear that same expression.  

Once Seonghwan’s illness finally consumed him, Taeheon would become the sole ruler of everything.  

Perhaps he already was.  

Now was the time for caution.  

Gyeongju pressed her lips together and left the office without another word.

Taeheon watched the door close.  

He reached for the blinds and pulled them down completely, plunging the room into total darkness.  

Only thin slivers of light flickered through in places.  

In the shadows, Taeheon sat comfortably, as if this was exactly where he belonged.

***

The inside of her closed eyelids was a hazy shade of gray. Sitting at the dining table, Yaein’s head drooped to the side as she dozed off.  

She startled awake when her body tilted so much that she almost toppled over.  

“I fell asleep again…”

She murmured to herself, rubbing her eyes, but the drowsiness refused to fade.  

Lately, she had been feeling overwhelmingly sleepy throughout the day. Was this another pregnancy symptom? According to her online searches, symptoms varied from person to person. 

She had visited a bookstore to browse books in the maternity section, but she hadn’t had enough time to read them thoroughly.  

She wanted to go to a hospital. More precisely, she wanted to visit an obstetrician and receive a proper examination.  

She wanted to look up pregnancy symptoms without anxiety, read books, and seek advice from people around her.

The symptoms would only intensify as time passed, and Yein knew shockingly little about pregnancy and childbirth.  

She had never had the opportunity to discuss such things with her grandmother, and there was no one else to teach her. 

It had been the same the last time she was pregnant. She hadn’t even realized she was expecting until she had a miscarriage.  

She had assumed she had missed her period due to poor health. Since she had been careful with contraception, pregnancy had never even crossed her mind.

The memory of warm blood trickling down her legs resurfaced. Yaein reached under her skirt and rubbed her thigh.  

The chilling recollection finally shook off her drowsiness.

As she imagined disguising herself to receive medical care, she let out a short laugh. How?  

She had no one to help her.  

How had she ended up living like this?  

She picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts. A few people from her university days, some acquaintances she had kept in touch with after marriage.  

Her contact list was quite long, yet there wasn’t a single person she felt comfortable calling.

Not just for discussing such an intimate issue—but for confiding in, in general.  

Her hand, still gripping the phone, dropped to her lap, and she buried her head in her arms.  

If only she could just fall asleep like this.  

The phone rang, rousing her. Her fingers trembled as she checked the screen.  

Seeing the caller ID, her expression darkened.  

“…Father.”

The reluctant title barely escaped her lips.  

“What the hell is all this nonsense?!”

No greeting—just immediate shouting, just as she expected.  

Her heavy head began to throb.  

She hadn’t even eaten properly, yet she felt like she was about to be sick.  

“Divorce? What kind of bullshit is this?! Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m perfectly sane.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.  

“I made this decision with a clear mind. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Are you talking back to me?!”

“I told you from the start that I couldn’t go through with this marriage. Do you remember?”

“Why do I have to endure an ill-fitting marriage and live under scrutiny? Who put me in this situation?”

She was done lying.  

She had never wanted to marry a man like Taeheon.  

Rubbing her forehead with her fist, Yaein let out a shallow, unsteady breath.  

“Have you ever truly thought of me as your daughter?”

“I’m really struggling right now.”

The plea crawled up her throat.  

But before she could even voice her resentment, an enraged roar erupted from the other end of the line.

─ “Even if they kick you out of that house with nothing, don’t expect us to take you back. If you want to go from being a rich man’s wife to begging on the streets, go ahead and do whatever you want.”

The angry voice lashed out before the call abruptly ended.  

Still holding the silent phone to her ear, Yaein let out a breathy, deflated laugh.  

She had never expected them to help. But hearing it out loud still stung.  

She truly had nowhere to go. No one to rely on. Nothing at all.  

Would it have been better if she had stashed away some money? Should she sell off a few pieces of jewelry now to scrape together whatever little she could?  

Her faint chuckles soon faded into silence

If it were just her, it wouldn’t matter what happened. But the thought of the child terrified her.  

‘What if I’m forced to stay here, unable to do anything?’

‘What if I have to watch my child suffer the same way I did, growing up in pain?’

She swore she wouldn’t let that happen, but a nameless fear crept up behind her.  

That fear felt eerily familiar—it looked just like the little girl she used to be.  

“That old woman is struggling so much because of you. Your mother brought home some bastard child, making everyone’s life miserable.”

“No wonder your mother ran away and left you.”

She was an adult now. Soon, she would be a mother.

And yet, the scars from the past still refused to let her go.  

Why couldn’t she forget? The people who had said those things had long since moved on, probably without a second thought. But the ones who suffered never did.

Closing her eyes, she tried to steady her mind. Then, she moved.

She went to her dressing room and opened a neatly arranged handbag from her wardrobe. Inside, she retrieved a small, old-fashioned phone and powered it on.  

With shaking hands, she pressed the call button.  

As she paced unsteadily through the kitchen, her footsteps wavered as if she might collapse at any moment. 

But the call never connected.  

Yaein slowly lowered the phone from her cheek and sank to the floor.  

With her forehead resting against the screen, she looked as though she were praying.  

After a long pause, her fingers moved again.  

A message was typed into the empty screen.  

[*Can you help me just this once?*]  

Her trembling fingers hovered over the send button. 

But just before pressing it, she hesitated. Her hand curled into a fist as she took a deep breath.  

Then, instead of sending, she deleted the message.  

Her fingers trembled.  

She rewrote the message.  

[*I have something to tell you.*]  

This time, without allowing herself any more hesitation, she pressed send.  

Curling up on the floor, she waited for a reply.  

For someone to ask if she was okay.  

For someone to recognize this small, desperate cry for help.

***

A day in Taeheon’s office was the same as usual, except for one additional report he had to review.  

“This is the record you asked me to look into, Director.”  

Taeheon accepted the file his subordinate handed him. It was a record of Yaein’s phone activity.  

Not from the phone she used regularly, but from the secret second phone she had registered.  

When he first discovered its existence, Taeheon had briefly considered the possibility that this was all a simple misunderstanding. *Lee Yaein, having an affair?* The same woman who would go out of her way to release even a bug that had wandered into the house? 

But now, undeniable evidence was before him. As he scanned the records, an old saying crossed his mind: *Humans are all the same in the end.*  

“When was this phone registered?”  

“Less than a year ago.”  

That meant it had been obtained after her secret was exposed—when their marriage had begun to fall apart.  

Everything aligned far too neatly, leaving a bitter taste in Taeheon’s mouth. He twisted his lips into a smirk. 

“But the recipient is a bit… well…”  

“A bit what?”  

“We traced the number, but it turned out to be a burner phone. It was obtained through a broker.”

Taeheon’s hand, which had been flipping through the pages, stilled.  

“We identified the supplier—well, you know how these things go. The guy primarily provides phones to credit defaulters, undocumented immigrants, and people involved in shady deals who need alternate identities.”  

A hollow laugh escaped him.  

That overly principled *Lee Yaein* had gotten involved with someone who couldn’t even use their real name.  

She once claimed she would sell him everything except her heart, and yet here she was, throwing it away for some lowlife.

There was no greater joke than this.  

“Keep tracking it.”  

“Yes, sir. And… one more thing.”  

His subordinate hesitated before adding, “Chairman Kwon asked you to call him.”  

Taeheon tapped the toe of his shoe against the floor.  

If his father truly wanted to talk, he would have called directly. Instead, he had chosen to pass the message through someone else. That, in itself, was a statement—typical of a man who loved playing the role of the boss.  

“Understood. You can leave.”  

With a brief bow, the subordinate quickly exited.  

Taeheon remained, flipping through the pages in his hands.  

The records of his wife’s secret conversations lay spread before him.