Chapter 28

A strangled gasp tore from her throat as she jolted upright.

The seatbelt held her in place.  

Yaein’s trembling fingers brushed over the strap, grounding herself.  

“Whoa, you scared me.”

The taxi driver exaggerated his surprise from the front seat.  

Yaein pressed her palm against her chest, trying to steady her erratic heartbeat.  

She had left the hospital. She had gotten into the taxi. 

As the memories resurfaced, the stiffness in her body gradually loosened.  

“Had a bad dream? We’re almost at Busan Station.”

Sure enough, through the windshield, she spotted the station sign.  

She rolled down the window, hoping the cold air would wake her up.  

A sharp chill rushed in, seeping through her thin hospital gown.  

Yaein handed over the fare displayed on the meter and stepped out of the taxi.  

The station entrance was bustling with people.  

Noticing the occasional glances cast her way, she slipped into a nearby clothing store.  

She picked out the cheapest outfit she could find.  

After changing into a sweater and a skirt, she blended into the crowd without drawing attention.  

Before leaving the store, she paused in front of a full-length mirror.  

Running her fingers through her messy hair, she managed to make herself look more presentable.  

She still had a long drive ahead, but she was close now—close to him.  

She wanted to look decent.  

Yaein balled up the hospital gown, shoving it into a trash bin.  

She hailed another taxi in front of the station.  

This driver greeted her indifferently.  

“Where to?”

“I haven’t been there before. Can I give you the address for the GPS? One moment.”

This time, there was no suspicious questioning. The taxi set off.  

Once she got out of this car, she would see him.  

The drive was slow, yet her stomach felt weightless, as if she were on a rollercoaster.  

At last, the taxi pulled up in front of an old, multi-unit building.  

Its exterior was stained and cracked, its age impossible to determine.  

There was no elevator.  

The stairs looked as if they hadn’t been cleaned in years.  

A faint breeze lifted her hair, carrying the scent of dust.  

Dead leaves and insect carcasses littered the landings.  

Yaein climbed one flight of stairs and stopped in front of a door plastered with layers of tattered flyers.  

Behind this door was the person she had been longing to see.  

Her index finger trembled as she pressed the doorbell.  

A shrill ringing echoed inside.  

A brief pause—then the sound of commotion.  

The sticker-covered door swung open.  

“What the hell?”

A middle-aged man with messy, unkempt hair stuck his head out.  

The strong stench of alcohol hit her instantly.  

His face was flushed red, and he wore a stretched-out tank top.  

His gaze swept over Yaein from head to toe before his eyes widened.  

Footsteps approached from inside.  

Yaein clenched her bag tightly.  

“Who is it?”

The rustling inside grew louder before a woman appeared behind the man.  

She looked just as disheveled.  

Her hair was frizzy and damaged from excessive bleaching and perms.  

Her faded eyebrow tattoos had taken on a bluish tint, and remnants of smudged makeup lingered on her face, her hangover evident.  

The moment she saw Yaein, her lips curled.  

“Mom.”

Yaein called out to her.

***

“I’m not even her mother, and I knew she’d make a fuss. Why would I meddle if I didn’t have to? I told you—I don’t know anything.”

Gyeongju crossed her arms, the multiple bracelets on her wrist clinking together.  

Taeheon sat across from her, absently tracing the rim of his cooling coffee cup. The raw, scraped skin on his hand caught her eye.  

‘He must’ve beaten someone with his bare hands.’

Gyeongju clicked her tongue.  

After Yaein disappeared, Taeheon had come straight to interrogate her.  

Considering he’d stormed into the house he usually avoided and was now pressuring her, she could only imagine the chaos that had erupted the moment Yaein went missing.  

“You called the hospital. You even said you were coming.”

“I asked what was going on because she called me, making a huge scene. She told me you were forcing her to get rid of the baby.”

Even as she threw him a sharp glare, Taeheon showed no reaction.  

“It’s a matter between husband and wife.”

“Is that so?”

Even as she sneered, he didn’t bother explaining himself.  

She wanted to press him—to ask what the hell he was thinking, deciding to erase the child.  

But from the way he carried himself, it was clear she wouldn’t get an answer.  

“Running away… Jeez. You two make a scene every damn day.”

Taeheon remained silent.  

“Are you looking for her? How’s that going?”

She probed, but Taeheon didn’t bite.  

“Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

“And why would I know that?”

“Because you were the closest to her.”

“Shouldn’t a husband be the one to hear that?”

Taeheon’s gaze locked onto her, but Gyeongju feigned indifference.  

There *were* places that came to mind.  

As much as she played up her own background, Yaein was terrible at lying.  

Most of the memories she had casually mentioned in conversation were likely real.  

“And what will you do once you find her?”

“Bring her back.”

His answer came so quickly and mechanically that it was almost unsettling.  

What the hell is going on in that head of his?

“Once she’s too far along, you won’t be able to get rid of the baby. Are you planning to raise it?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

Once again, Taeheon shut her down.  

Even though she *knew* exactly why he had planned to go through with the procedure, he didn’t offer a single justification.

If she had been his real mother, she would’ve demanded to know why he had let things escalate this far and what the hell he intended to do about the child.  

But just as he said—it wasn’t her place to interfere.  

The real person who should be meddling in all of this was someone else.  

Despite Taeheon pulling *half the company’s manpower* to search for his runaway wife, Chairman Kwon Sungwhan remained eerily silent.  

Whatever had happened between them, the old man had somehow managed to rein in his bullheaded son.  

From what Gyeongju had heard, Taeheon had been the one to approach the chairman first.  

That, in itself, was baffling.  

Since his marriage, Taeheon had never once bent to his father.  

And Kwon Sungwhan had done everything in his power to ensure his son never had control—whether in his personal life or within the company.  

He used Taeheon as much as he pleased but fought tooth and nail to keep him from gaining any real power.  

Rumors even spread that Taeheon wasn’t his biological son.  

Gyeongju, having watched their relationship from the sidelines for years, knew better than anyone—father and son were nothing short of enemies.  

Sometimes, she wondered.  

If Taeheon had been born to a different father, one who wasn’t Kwon Sungwhan…  

Would he still have become the terrifying child she once met?  

She let out a small sigh before asking,  

“Are you at least eating properly?”

Despite the sudden question, Taeheon only gave a slight tilt of his head.  

A vague gesture, but Gyeongju hadn’t really needed an answer.  

His gaunt face told her everything.  

He was barely eating, barely functioning—just moving forward on autopilot.  

He had been like that before the marriage, too. After returning from the U.S., he buried himself in work so relentlessly that Gyeongju often wondered if he ever even rested.

‘Maybe it’s because he had somewhere to go back to.’

After getting married, he seemed to loosen up.  

Whenever she told Yaein, *Your husband has changed a lot since meeting you*, the girl always dismissed it as empty flattery.  

But Gyeongju had meant it.  

Taeheon *had* changed.  

And now… he was different again.  

“Since you’re here, at least have a meal before you go.”

“No need. I’m busy.”

“Busy searching for your runaway wife?”

A crack formed between Taeheon’s brows.  

It wasn’t that her question particularly offended him.  

Rather, the eerie, impenetrable curtain that had been masking his thoughts suddenly lifted—just enough for her to get a glimpse inside.  

She would have bet on it.  

Right now, Taeheon was thinking about Yaein.  

All his senses were fixated on her, rendering him incapable of focusing on anything else.  

Had he not been so preoccupied, he would have snapped at her much more viciously by now.  

A part of Gyeongju still found him unsettling.  

And yet, there was something oddly amusing about it, too.  

*So, even he is just like everyone else.*  

A person who wavers. Who grows restless.  

A *normal* person.  

Each time she saw him like this, the image of the emotionless boy she had first met peeled away little by little.  

“It’s already gotten this late.”

Glancing at his watch, Taeheon got to his feet.  

“If Yaein contacts you, let me know immediately.”

“She’s not an idiot. Why would she call me? You’d grab her the second she did.”

Even Gyeongju had to admit—if Yein were desperate enough to reach out  to someone, it would be her.  

That much was obvious.  

For once, that thick skin of hers—the same one that had earned her plenty of insults—had actually served a purpose.  

“There’s no need for you to see me out.”

Taeheon turned away, cutting off her attempt to walk him to the door.  

Before stepping out, however, he stared at her intently.  

His gaze was sharp, as if seeing through everything.  

Even though she kept a composed expression while sending him off, goosebumps prickled her skin.  

After he left, she found herself pacing near the chair she had been sitting in.  

Truthfully, she had a *pretty good* idea where Yein might be.  

There had been hints.  

Whenever Yaein talked about growing up with her grandmother, she would smile so brightly.  

She had once mentioned that she had lived by the ocean as a child.  

The *real* Yaein—the one Gyeongju had come to know—was a girl with nowhere to lean on.  

Just like her.  

Just like someone who had grown up alone in a cold, unforgiving world.  

She could imagine exactly what Yein was feeling right now.  

And just how lost she must be.

“Seriously, why do I even bother meddling in this?”

‘What’s so endearing about her, anyway?’

Gyeongju let out a sigh, shaking her head.  

Through the window, she saw Taeheon getting into the car parked outside.  

Half-hidden behind the curtain, she crossed her arms.  

Would it really be wise to interfere?  

Even Chairman Kwon had washed his hands of his son’s marriage issues.  

Provoking Kwon Taeheon’s temper was nothing short of stupidity.  

Her instinct, as always, was to weigh the risks—calculate what was to gain, what was to lose.  

But then she thought of Yaein.  

Yaein, who had once said she was happy when Gyeongju called her *like a daughter*. 

Yaein, who had apologized.  

Who had admitted she was scared.  

If someone had once reached out a hand to her—Gyeongju, who had spent her life enduring contempt, always fighting to survive—maybe things would have been different.  

Yaein was *too much* like her.  

She picked up her phone.  

Flipping through her long list of contacts, she swiftly found the number she needed.  

If you wanted to survive next to a man like Kwon Sungwhan, who spent his days cheating and throwing tantrums, you needed allies.  

“It’s me.”

Gyeongju drummed her polished nails against the back of her phone as she greeted the person on the other end.  

“I need you to do something for me.”

***

“Did your conversation go well, sir?”

A subordinate greeted him politely as Taeheon stepped into the car.  

The man got into the driver’s seat, waiting for instructions.  

“As expected, she played dumb. Completely predictable.”

His voice was detached, his posture slouched against the backseat.  

His face was half-shadowed, his expression unreadable.  

“Keep watching her. If she makes any big moves, I want to know immediately.”

The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror before nodding.  

“I’ve already informed our people on the ground.”

“Tell them to check anyone who even remotely resembles her.”

“Understood.”

At Taeheon’s command, a quiet manhunt had already been set in motion.  

Some of the men had initially cracked jokes about *fetching a runaway woman*—until they realized she was *Director Kwon’s wife*.  

Then, all laughter had ceased.  

For Yaein, there was now no safe place left to hide within the country.  

The subordinate thought back to her—*the small madam*, who had always treated them kindly.  

He almost felt sorry for her.